A Smoke Filled Bar

1965, a smoke filled bar nearest to a CIA base…

The waitress had just gotten all their drinks and been paid so it would be some time before the group in the back corner would have their privacy busted.

An old man whose face was nearly hidden by the angle of his hat and the height of his scarf began speaking, “The ideal thing would be if the protesters simply surrendered and gave us the hands over the head and more importantly the palms and open fingers pointed to our cameras.”

“Don’t be an old fool,” said the man with the hooked nose and the more modern hatless head. “If they surrendered it would be a snap to fingerprint them directly.”

“Perhaps there is a gesture that could be used by the enemy, that could also make their fingerprints photographable,” said the third man who for some reason had a baseball cap emblazoned with the LA Dodgers.

“You know,” murmured the old man almost in a reverie, “my two kids used to think that the V for victory of World War II just meant peace.”

“That’s only two prints. I’d accept it if one was the thumb.” said hooked nose.

“The index finger and middle finger are important. Try to hold something with your thumb and ring finger or your thumb and little finger. It feels a bit unnatural. Those two prints are important,” said the old man.

“So who gets to risk their own fingerprints while spreading this new hand signal?” asked the baseball hat wearer.

“You’re the youngest. You should be able to fit in with the peaceniks,” said hooked nose.

“Ahhh. I bet they don’t even like baseball. And what happens to my career when my prints are photographed?”

“You’ll be a martyr of the CIA movement. You will have our undying appreciation,” said hooked nose.

“Then steal those prints out of your files.”

“Okay. If that’s the price of doing business. Soon we will have partial prints of all the biggest agitators.”

Today even the public can have cameras to lift your peace sign fingerprints from a few feet away. Biometrics as security generally sucks.