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one. All the data from your existing Id has been transferred over, so we know all the crimes you committed in your home country. But the best part is, if you ever get your hands on a UC aReal to check out your public profile, you'll find a special treat: A fresh felony conviction stamped in big red letters beside your photo. That's right, you start off your first day in the UC with the criminal offense of illegal entry."
    "What's going to happen to us?" Alejandro said when Harold tagged him.
    "What do you think, Border Hopper? You'll be moved to a detention center. There, you'll be questioned, processed, and deported. Thank you for your freakin' cooperation."
    The other officer came forward. I hadn't noticed this before in the dim light, but now that the officer was closer, I realized he had no face beneath that stetson.
    I 'd thought his voice sounded a little too deep...
    "These three are of age," the officer said. Like the police robots south of the border, its head was a featureless slab of polycarbonate, serrated at the bottom, with a yellow bar down the middle and two glass disks stacked one atop the other where the forehead would be. The only difference was that this robot didn't have a laser sight—maybe the stetson covered it. "I'm tagging them for the EEI."
    "Yes boss." Harold gave me a smug look, then chuckled, shook his head, and walked away to staplegun the others. He muttered something about "cannon fodder."
    The robot's featureless face rotated to regard me, Alejandro, and Tahoe in turn. Then the officer said, "Rade Galaal, Tahoe Eaglehide, Alejandro Mondego. I'm proud to inform you that you are now temporary residents of the United Countries. You are granted this temporary residency for twelve years, during which time you will serve the UC in a military capacity. Your active duty commitment is ten years. After you have completed your Military Service Obligation, you may qualify for permanent residency if your record is in good standing. Do you have any questions or objections?"
    "Twelve years?" Alejandro said immediately. " Caramba . That sounds like a long time."
    "Would you prefer to be deported?" There was no emotion in that question. Just cold, machine indifference.
    Alejandro glanced at me, then lowered his gaze. "No."
    "Good. The three of you are in luck, because the weekly trip from the detection center to the Military Entrance Processing Station is scheduled for 0700 tomorrow morning, allowing you to begin your service term immediately. Welcome to the UC, and have a wonderful evening."

CHAPTER THREE
     
    We spent the night in a detection center, then at 0700 the next morning, two robots that identified themselves as PPAs, or Pacification and Protection Autonomous robots, escorted the three of us into a waiting van. The PPAs looked exactly the same as the robot border patrol officer from the night before, minus the clothing.
    The AI-operated van stopped at detention centers along the way, and other draft-age illegals were herded inside so that soon we had a full complement squeezed into the passenger area. No one really said anything. It felt like we were going to prison.
    When the vehicle finally ground to a halt and the back door opened, I was more than happy to step outside, but not so pleased with what I saw: I stood within a compound surrounded by a chain-link fence and topped by razor-wire.
    Prison, indeed.
    Three other Immigrations and Customs Enforcement vans were parked nearby. Beyond them, five buses dumped about seventy people each into the courtyard. I noticed that roughly three-fourths of the people seemed to be immigrants. East Indians, South Americans, Africans, Russians, Japanese, and so forth.
    The PPAs in the courtyard herded us toward the main building. These robots wore dark blue blazers and trousers with black shoes. The black letters 'MP' were sewn into gray patches on their right shoulders.
    As I followed the robots I looked out beyond the fence of the compound. I saw a paved