The outcasts in the radioactive wasteland were heavily tattooed, each Commandment a prisoner had disobeyed written upon his or her body in a complete accounting during the Exile Ceremony.

At first, these inky glyphs were marks of shame, but over time they came to signify pride and distinction. Thieves would hide part of their take in order to bribe government assigned tattoo artists to grant them more time and finer work. Famous insurgents would often receive extra detailing gratis.

“Make it beautiful. Make it truth.”

And so it was that each one became a shining billboard of the iniquity of their age.

This entry is part of my journal, published January 8, 2014, in New York.