It's not expensive or difficult to have someone's keycard copied; I pay a friend of a friend at the university fifteen bucks for a copy of Rémi's.

It'll give you access to his apartment building, his apartment, and his office, the student says, young and eager and freckled, the card in his outstretched hand, spotlit under a green desk lamp. The student smokes a cigarette with the other hand.

Costs extra, he says, if you want into any of the academic buildings he has access to here.

I take the card, flip it over and back.

No, thanks, I say, I have all I need for now, and I close the dormitory door behind me when I leave.