“Mr. Jones. How may we help you this afternoon?” the host asked. She stood behind the hololounge’s glass encased desk in absolute stillness.
Afternoon, Mr. Jones repeated in his head. How does anyone know what afternoon is inside this prison of a city?
“I need the next booth,” Mr. Jones said. His hand shook uncontrollably on the host’s desk. He put his hand into his jacket pocket. The host’s eyes remained steady on his own. She took an extra moment to process the request.
“All booth’s are full at the moment. The wait time is approximately,” another pause, “fifteen minutes.”
Mr. Jones felt a bolt of pain shoot down his spine. “No!” he burst out, “I need it now.”
The host took an extra long pause, never blinking, keeping her eyes steady on his.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jones. You second in line, but we have been moving quickly today. It is likely your wait will be shorter than usual.”
Mr. Jones’s whole body shook and threatened to lose control. It wouldn’t be the first time he attacked a host. The city banned him from hololounges for a whole month after that fiasco.
Mr. Jones felt warmth on his side. A thin beam of powerful sunlight streamed into the room, just big enough for a person to fit through if they could just get through the four panels of glass that separated the city from the outside. He turned back to the host and offered his wrist.
“Excellent,” the host said, in a bubbly tone that Mr. Jones was send him over the edge. She scanned his wrist and returned to her statuesque posture.
“Who’s before me?” Mr. Jones asked. Before the host could answer he was already scanning the hololounge for other patrons. There was only one, an elderly lady watching herself wring her own hands.
“I am not at liberty to say,” the host responded.
“Figures,” Mr. Jones grumbled.
Mr. Jones walked over to where the old lady sat along the wall and took the seat two chairs. He did not need to look over to see that she was on the edge too. She probably did not even see him walk in.
Inside the right pocket of his jacket, Mr. Jones traced the protective casing of a syringe. He wanted to save it for later, it was his last one after all, but the headache was coming on too strong. That light! He couldn’t take it anymore.
Mr. Jones steadied himself as well as he could, took in a deep breath and exhaled like always did when he walked out of the hololounge. The old lady did not watch as he got close. He reached out his hand to greet her and dropped a bracelet on the floor at the same time.
“Whoops,” Mr. Jones feigned like he dropped the bracelet on accident. It fell just next the woman’s feet. She did not react in the slightest. It was too easy. He poked the old lady with syringe and unloaded all of the blue. It hurt him to feel how light the syringe was when he returned it to his pocket. He could get more, the hololounge was more important at the moment. Mr. Jones stood back up and tied the bracelet back around his wrist. He walked over to the counter with slow steps. He had to appear calm.
“I think something might be wrong with that woman over there,” Mr. Jones said to the host.
After a few seconds, the host turned to the woman who was already foaming at the mouth. Her eyes rolled back and in the next second she fell to her side and rolled onto the floor in convulsions.
The host unlocked her glass cage and mechanically stepped towards the woman on metallic rigid legs. She bent down to tend to the woman while muttering instructions through her hardwired connection to the city authorities.
As if the hololounge itself colluded with him, a man walked out from the back booths positively beaming. He looked born anew and walked straight past the woman in steady steps, completely ignorant of the world around him.
Mr. Jones did not waste time. He rushed back to the empty hololounge and quickly shut the door. The room greeted him and started giving soft directions, but Mr. Jones did not hear it. The helmet was on his head, the sensory depravation and download flooded into his mind and soon, he was not in the city at all. He was not even Mr. Jones.
Hours passed, though only in Mr. Jones mind. He traveled to the old world, the one before the death and the sanctuary city. Each new sight calmed him. His nerves steadied. His synapses slowed.
Five minutes of real time passed and Mr. Jones took off the helmet with steady hands. The door offered a polite goodbye and Mr. Jones returned an even politer one. It felt good to say nice things, even if it was just to a machine. He walked to the front of the hololounge where a crowd gathered around a gurney. Several masked police officers and medical staff glanced at him as he passed. He wondered what could have happened but was sure the present authorities had it handled. Sunlight touched his face as he walked by, and he paused soak it in. He peered to through the glass panes to the dead outside world. With a deep sigh of relief he grinned ear to ear. It would be a good day.