Concrete pillars block my view of the sun; sentry towers where a pair of patrolling guards look down on my vehicle suspiciously. They’ve seen me come and go four times a week for the past three years without giving me the benefit of the doubt. I suppose that’s what’s going to save us in the end. Lax security would ease my apprehension, but preventing weakened defenses is more important than my weak constitution.

I can’t tell if we make eye contact due to their dark lenses, but I nod as if we...