He fixed his vision on the uppermost light and watched it grow smaller and smaller until it was too small to be visible. Then he looked outside the pod's windshield. In front of him, humanity had sprung up: transport pods, buildings, giant billboards. He looked down through the transparent base of the pod and saw socialite humans walking with friends, chatting, eating in one of the city's many cafes, and drinking in one of its many bars. Dos felt subdued and isolated, alone. Very few pods were moving alongside him deeper into the heart of the city where the main business district was located, and an even fewer proportion of those, he knew, would arrive at the same location as him. He found a pod in his peripheral vision that seemed to be moving in the direction he was and focused on it.
As the computer system navigated him through packed streets he stared at the other pod's tinted windows and pretended its destination was his Lunarium. Who was inside? A university student, perhaps, looking for rest after a week spent cramming for their end of semester exams. A professional couple, seeking relief after a busy week. A tourist looking for dreams of home. A prostitute and their client. Dos imagined he was in the other pod, imagined someone gazing directly at where he was seated, unaware of their gaze seeking to penetrate the tinted exterior. A slight chill ran through his spine.
After a while the other pod abruptly turned away and Dos broke away from his daydream. He did not realise how far the pod had traveled without him noticing, and while he was scrambling to establish his location his Lunarium's entrance came into view. 'Entrance' being a poor term for it. Lunariums were in fact located hundreds of kilometres underground, buried deep under the earth. Because of their location, millions of them could service a single city. Gigantic tubes contained masses of water and made use of Archimedes' principle to convey patrons below and above the ground. There was only one place these lifts led to, as far as Dos knew: a large room, kind of like a lounge, where customers could converse with each other before and after their sleep. A large monitor was mounted on the wall. It displayed the rooms that were currently vacant. Dos had sat in the lounge before sleeping once, unsuccessfully trying to hit on a woman, and had looked up at the monitor during a lull in conversation to read the colour-coded floor plan. He hadn't done it for any reason other than to look busy during the awkward silence, but he felt a strange disquiet from noticing that precisely three rooms, out of the twenty-five total, were supposedly 'occupied'. If he had counted the people emerging from the water lifts he would be able to tell whether or not they contained people or whether the Lunarium was just not filled to capacity that night. As it were, though, he felt strange wondering if there were people within the rooms. Despite the expertly designed and furnished interior of the lounge, the highly personal feeling of the Lunarium was thrown off utterly by the minute detail that the software did not distinguish between empty rooms that would service no customers and rooms who already housed their customers. Dos found it hard to fall asleep that night.
In any case, the above-ground 'entrance' to his Lunarium was in sight. It was a one-storey building on the coast, located adjacent to the city's port. As you walked in, a receptionist would greet you, check for your appointment, and then you would be led into the oddly clandestine room containing the gigantic pipes and strapped into a small egg-shaped container. After what felt like forever, you would slowly begin to sink. It could be hard to tell you were falling, but there would be a subtle sensation of downwards movement and you would need to pop your ears. As far as Dos knew, there was no other room in the facility save what lay beyond the door behind the receptionist's desk. Dos was pretty sure it was a staff room. The door had a keycard reader and a keypad affixed, although he had never seen anyone go in or out.
Dos was thinking about the room when he felt the air temperature inside the pod change. He blinked and realised the door had slid open. The transparent surfaces had turned opaque. Dos's HUD displayed a brief thank-you message from the organisation that owned the pod. He could smell the sea and see the silhouettes of palm trees. A small breeze picked up. He stepped outside into the night.
He made his way to the Lunarium building, took a deep breath, and stepped inside. He kept his eyes on the glittering waters as the door shut behind him. It was a small ritual for him, having the sea be his last vision of the outside -- the building had no windows and the actual Lunarium obviously also lacked them. When he turned around, the receptionist was waiting for him. She had a pleasant expression on her face.
Things proceeded as usual. He had his appointment confirmed and was led to the room with the tubes. As the receptionist explained the function of the Lunarium, he noticed behind her shoulder another egg-pod had already begun to sink. He frowned. Ever since the day he'd seen three rooms occupied on the monitor, he had liked to be first one down. Today was, in fact, the first time it appeared he wouldn't make it.
He was no longer making eye contact, but the receptionist continued without a hitch. When she announced that he was ready to go, Dos drew his sight from the tube where the egg-pod had receded under the water and dragged it to the woman's face. She smiled and he felt himself smile back. Then he clambered into his egg-pod and waited. He selected a movie from the pod's entertainment database and watched it load onto his HUD. By the time the progress bar filled he was already moving, Dos realised with a slow shock. Then he settled back and played the film.
