In 19th-century Russia, in some of the larger cities, all sorts of people from psycho murderers to petty thieves to people who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time were arrested and sent to Work Camps in Siberia. They were transported by train. It was a long, boring ride in a dirty train car where they were eventually taken to an isolated outpost far in the coutryside. When they arrived, they were made to perform tiring, menial tasks. They ate only what was provided for them. They wore clothing suited to the job. Of course, it was freezing.
Every morning, I out on a drab office-casual outfit and take the 7:44AM Metro North train from Grand Central Station to White Plains. I then transfer to a bus which takes me 15 minutes outside of town to an ugly concrete building in the countryside. I spend the day flattening my ass in an uncomfortable chair in front of a computer churning out reports, a large percentage of which I know are not read. Since I am reliant on public transportation, I am forced to eat in the hideously overpriced cafeteria, which serves a limited selection of exceedingly fatty food of questionable nutritional value.
Bcero xopowero, comrades.
I read Crime and Punishment not too long ago. I highly recommend it. Makes those train rides seem a bit shorter. A bit.