Bernard could see where the security cameras were, where their proverbial eyes were scanning. He felt sure that that specific corner of the store was not being surveyed. It was like the space beneath a freeway overpass in which anything could happen. He could calculate the area over which the cameras had purview, and there was no way that this specific corner of this specific aisle was being recorded. He was in a blackout zone, an orphan space. The security guards, or the manager (who, in the case of a theft, of course, would send footage to the police, if he even bothered), had no visual data about what happened in that corner. It was, or Bernard was, free, unlike the queue at a border crossing, he thought . . .
Read more in TCR 3.19 (Winter 2013)—the narrative issue.