Some walked down Poydras Street; others along Canal, heading for the Mississippi. They didn’t go that far. Not one of them caught particular attention. Ordinary people often don’t. And these men and women were ordinary. Not tall or short. Their bodies average in every way and unremarkable in their dress. Their faces were the faces seen on any street in New Orleans—unless you looked into the eyes and then the difference was obvious. No expression. These people showed no happiness or sorrow, no anticipation, no disappointment. Nothing. They gradually merged with a line of people buying tickets at a movie house and went inside the building without looking at posters, or buying popcorn and soda. Among the pairs and groups who laughed and talked, the gray people were careful to pass without touching. Into the theater itself they merged, taking scattered seats. Perhaps there were fifteen of them, or twenty. It would be hard to count because they blended into the seated crowd. “Please be considerate of others and make sure your cell phones are turned off.”
