It took several seconds for Marie’s eyes to adjust to the relative darkness of the corridor, after being in the sterile brightness of the intake room. What confronted her was another line of women, like her all attached by their left ankles to a metal bar running low along the wall. At the end of the corridor was a shuttered door, and she could see this opening and shutting every 10-15 seconds. Gradually she shuffled forwards with the other women, and got close to the shutters more quickly than she had imagined she would. She soon realized that the shuttered door separated the corridor from an elevator, which only had room for one woman. The women about to enter the elevator had their wristband scanned, and were then almost pushed in by the guard, who clearly wanted them to move quicker.
Earlier in the evening, Marie would have been shocked at these women – at herself – being treated like items on a production line, but she was getting used to the mechanical process she was being pushed through. When she arrived at the front, her wristband was scanned, and shortly afterwards the shutter door opened. As she was being forced into the elevator, she saw that a bolt had shot out from the metal bar in the corridor to a metal bar in the elevator, making the transfer of her ankle cuff seamless. As soon as she was fully in the elevator, the bolt shot back, the shutters closed, and the container and its cargo shot up five levels.