Kafka stands in line to use the U-Scan self-checkout machine at the supermarket. He is apprehensive and full of self-loathing. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, and occasionally coughs tubercularly. Finally, it is his turn to use the machine. He slides his discount card over the optical scanner; it does not register. He slides his discount card over the optical scanner again; it does not register. He does this nine or 10 times without success, and begins to feel persecuted. He tries to scan his groceries, but nothing registers. He stands there, paralyzed. The line behind him begins to grow, and people mutter. His mind races; he becomes shaky. He decides to not buy the groceries, to simply leave. He goes out to his Chrysler K-car convertible and gets in. In the passenger seat sits his friend Max Brod. Brod: Did you not buy any groceries? Kafka: No, I did not buy any groceries. Brod quickly jots down Kafka’s comment in a small spiral notebook. They then drive to White Castle. Sitting in a booth, Kafka eats a little square hamburger and daydreams of his beautiful Milena.