Backlit - 4 - Processed Air

A light tap on the shoulder stirred Anja from her shallow napping. The attendant was leaning through the cabin’s doorway, curtain aside, smiling at her.

“The next stop is yours Ms. Martin.” the attendant replied to Anja’s unspoken confusion.

“Oh, thanks.” she replied, still groggy. Sipping from the complimentary glacier water she rose up, found her courier bag in the unused top sleeper bunk, tossed her reading material into it and clipped closed the flap.

A few minutes later the train slid to a stop. Anja was the 3rd to step from the cab, cigar already at her lips. A voice came over the omni that crushed her will:

This is a no smoking facility.
Please refrain until you are in the parking lot.
Thank you.

The cigar went into her coat while she followed a ramp down a subterranean passage to the station proper.

A poster caught her eye, advertising a new sex club a block away. She paused to scan the specs.

An IM spoke to her:
Hi Anja, this is Karen, your ride. I’m in the Station bagel shop.

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