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Bjorn could see the ferry as it came round the cape on the other side of the bay, slowly turning towards the wharf where he was standing. Ten more minutes, and it would arrive with its passengers, ready to pick him and a handful of others up for the return journey. He stood there with the biting wind sweeping against his face, relaxing as much as possible to prevent himself from shivering as the cold forced its way through his thick winter jacket.

He took a final drag of his cigarette before tossing the butt on the ground, and feeling refreshed by the nicotine he hurried back into the glass shelter where he once again would be protected from the wind. The shelter could probably hold as many as a hundred people without becoming overly crowded. However, the only ones there were a police officer with four miserable looking Africans, a young woman, and himself.

What a terrible shock it must be to come all the way from Africa to this place, thought Bjorn, feeling a sting of guilt at the thought that he was now a part of this new system where all asylum seekers will be sent up to the arctic until their cases are properly reviewed. But the feeling of discomfort left him almost as quickly as it struck. He was after all wholeheartedly for the new and stricter immigration laws, and the Lundby colony was in his opinion by far the best political idea to be put into practice of the last decade or so.

And the miserable faces were in many ways a confirmation of the effectiveness of the new law. Only very desperate people will be willing to endure these kind of hardships in order to get asylum in Norway. Rumours spread quickly, and it will not take long before Norway becomes a dreaded destination for asylum seekers. Making conditions as miserable as legally possible for all the gold diggers out there will surely stem the tide of unwanted immigration.

But Bjorn could not help being curious about the Africans. What strange tales were these people going to tell the authorities, and how much of it would be true and how much would be fiction. Being an immigration officer must be incredibly difficult. Always faced with people desperate to get into the country, all of them telling lies and coming up with all sorts of stories. Compared to what the immigration officers have to deal with, Bjorn´s task was a no brainer. Which was precisely what attracted him to join the regiment of border guards in the first place.

Patrolling the colony, making sure that no one escapes, would be an easy way to make a living. The colony was after all separated from Kirkenes by eight miles of impassable mountains and ice cold water, and the nearest village accessible by foot was no less than forty miles away, forty miles of hills and arctic tundra. Any escape from the colony would therefore have to be well funded and well organized. Merely finding a way out of the colony would not in itself secure a safe return to civilisation. Rather, an escape from the colony would more likely result in death due to the harsh environment than a return to liberty.