"Look, it isn't issue. I bought the hide, had it made. I can pull off the marks of insignia and it's just another jacket...."
"That is not the point, Mr. Craig. Your clothing ration is defined by law. There are no exceptions."
"These are your permanent quarters. You will occupy them immediately. Then, if you believe the location is wasteful of your time, you must petition the appropriate committee. This department cannot accept such a petition."
"Your petition to be permitted to purchase a private means of conveyance is hereby denied."
The big man leaned far back in the battered desk chair. It creaked at worn joints, but touched the wall without sliding from under its enormous load. The man was silent through Craig's long, confused speech. By turns he examined his fingernails, picked at yellowed teeth, and stared above his head at the discolored ceiling.
"... but you can get all this from ISS, maybe even from Import, if they'll release my file," Craig argued.
"Uh-huh," the big man said between closed lips.