Nicholson entered the mantrap and the double doors closed behind him. He emptied his pockets and disrobed before donning the clean suit that had been provided to him by the orderlies. The camera watching him appeared satisfied that he was properly prepared and, more to the point, that the vendor was properly protected. The doors to the inner chamber opened and he proceeded into the hallway. He passed several doors until he reached the one that was labeled with the name of the vendor. He pressed the button on the doorframe. A satisfying tactile click, a spinning light illuminating around the button, a click, and then the door opened soundlessly. A single desk with a small chair and a computer terminal awaited him. He sat down and the screen turned on automatically. Finally, he was able to set about classifying his expenses from a recent trip to Tokyo. It was inconvenient, but a small price to pay to ensure that the vendor’s unique interfaces, their intellectual property, couldn’t be copied by the replication machines. Their eyes and their ears were everywhere in the outside world. Simply by seeing your software, these machines could copy its essence. The risks of operating software in the wild required that proprietary software be protected. Hidden away from eavesdroppers. Such was the world in 2037.