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Tracy moved over to the wall.
"Full face."
She stared into the camera. Click.
"Turn your head to the right."
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"Left." Click. "Over to the table."
The table had fingerprint equipment on it. Tracy's fingers were rolled across an inky pad, then pressed onto a white card.
"Left hand. Right hand. Wipe your hands with that rag. You're finished."
She's right, Tracy thought numbly. I'm finished. I'm a number. Nameless, faceless.
A guard pointed to Tracy. "Whitney? Warden wants to see you. Follow me."