There's nothing better for peace of mind these days while traveling by air to be seated next to a jumpy, unfriendly-acting person who opens a paper packet bearing a mystery script (Arabic? Farsi?) and a portrait of a bearded man in a turban and then pours some mystery substance from it into his mouth. On the other hand, K. is rereading Agatha Christie in order and had come to "Death in the Air." At the last minute he exchanged it for "The Pickwick Papers."