One afternoon, a fly landed on Sam’s ink pad. When he swatted it, a tiny smear of ink landed on a document for a citizen named Archibald Buttle. The computer, a wheezing machine held together by duct tape and hope, misread the smear. Suddenly, Archibald Buttle was being charged for a crime committed by a man named Archibald Tuttle.

In the spirit of being helpful while capturing the essence of that specific episode and the film itself, here is a story about navigating the "bureaucracy of the soul."

That night, Sam didn't dream of giant samurai or flying through clouds like the hero in the movie Brazil. He just slept soundly, knowing that for one day, the machine had failed to grind someone down because he chose to be a person instead of a cog.