I may have to take advantage of that book recently appearing on a nearby shelf. A modern take: My door refused to open. The sign displayed on the door's hand

I may have to take advantage of that book recently appearing on a nearby shelf. A modern take: My door refused to open. The sign displayed on the door's handle in my arhud grew more prominent than it had been when I was ignoring it a few moments ago. It briefly flashed an alarming color in time with an almost painful buzzing on my wrist. A stern and feminine voice began reading the message in my airphones: "Your citizenry is too low to enter this residence. Please report to the nearest reconciliation center or schedule a relocation to a dwelling available at your citizen level." I spoke aloud: "I am loyal to the party that best serves us as citizens of this great nation. Please allow me express entry to recover my jacket for the cold walk to the nearest reconciliation center." The stern feminine voice piped back up in its usual fashion of chastising me from a position centered within my skull: "Temperatures for the next hour are expected to remain above 5 degrees Celsius. Your loyalty has been noted and is appreciated by your fellow citizens." The door remained locked to me. I went back out into the rain.