The attaché receives the cartridge (pp. 36–37)
The medical attaché, in sum, feels tightly wound and badly underappreciated and is prepared in advance to be irritated by the item inside, which is merely a standard black entertainment cartridge, but is wholly unlabelled and not in any sort of colorful or informative or inviting cartridge-case, and has only another of these vapid U.S.A.-type circular smiling heads embossed upon it where the registration- and duration-codes are supposed to be embossed.
Context
The samizdat's packaging: where the duration-code should be, there's a smiley face — a circle where the running time goes. The Entertainment announces on its own label that it has no end, and nobody can read the sign.