The Iron Curtain was a metaphor to those who lived on its soft side. To those on the hard side, it was a physical reality with an ideology, an army, and a body. Hidden by forests, the border was invisible yet everywhere, like the State. And like electricity, it provided the background hum of the days. It was built, electrified, and alarmed with the latest Soviet technology at the same time (1961) that the Berlin Wall went up. It even had a name—the Installation—and it was in the no-man’s-land around the installation, known to border soldiers as the Furrow of Death, that the young, misinformed fugitives of the Eastern bloc found themselves going round in circles until the border guards hunted them down with their dogs and trigger-happy Kalashnikovs.