Artificial

03 | Station Andromida

My hands tighten around the control panel as I watch the massive spaceport grow by the second. Ships of all sizes and colors pass my window, and I crane my head to get a better look at each one.

Before long, it's my turn to dock. Compared to the other ships, my small pod looks comically small, zooming around to find a space where it won't get crushed by the larger ships. The ground jerks slightly as my pod connects with the spaceport, air hissing through the room as the different pressures acclimate.

I grab my duffle bag, my knuckles white from where they clutch at the strap, and fling it over my shoulder. The doors slide open, and I take my first step out of the pod.

All around me, ships and pods connect and disconnect from the pier, hundreds of people entering and exiting their vessels. Their movements appear almost coordinated, like schools of fish weaving effortlessly between each other.

I had left my blaster in the pod, so I pass through the security and identification checkpoints without issue, making my way through tight crowds to the main entrance of the port. The docking bay ends, leading to what looks like a mega-shopping mall. An arch looms over the entrance, welcoming visitors to "Station Andromida", scrawled in large bold letters.

Shops line every available wall, wares and exports from all over the galaxy being sold in almost every direction you look. I inhale deeply, savoring the stale scent of filtration air mixed with fresh plaster and metal.

Someone wearing a velvet hat larger than the wearer's head itself passes by. My feet falter, and I fall still as I take in my surroundings. Compared to earth, everything seems too colorful, too bright. The lights above are a harsh hospital grade, making me even colder than I was in the pod.

Compared to the people around me, I suddenly feel severely underdressed. I tug at the straps of my black cocktail dress, and continue walking.

I'm not a tourist, yet in this moment I feel like one. I can't help but wish I was one.

Vendors selling snacks I've never seen wave their hands, calling over potential buyers. Dresses of all shapes and sizes move on animatronic models, striking poses that I believe would shatter my bones if I tried.

I keep my gaze forward, following the small path to the hotel that my brain had mapped ahead of time. I don't pass a single window, and beneath the bright, flashing lights, one could almost believe it was midday rather than early morning

One of the establishments I pass is unusually bright, flashing signs nearly blinding me as I pass. Girls dressed in scanty outfits dance in the window displays, smiling flirtatiously at the shoppers. My eyes connect with a male dancer, and I jerk my gaze forward before I see something that would undoubtedly burn my corneas.

My head is throbbing by the time I reach the hotel, and all I want to do is fall into a warm bed and pass out.

"Name?" the desk clerk asks, not bothering to look up from her monitor. I don't remember the name I registered under, so I don't respond, instead sliding forward my online room receipt and fake ID. She gives the documents a cursory glance, then tosses me a room key. "Gym is on the fourth floor and the pool is closed for maintenance. Thanks for choosing Nova Heights Hotel."

I mutter out a thanks, grabbing my keys as I make my way to the elevators. Out of all the things my father chose to pack for me, an extra pair of shoes was not on his list.

My feet ache like they've never before, and I try not walk gracefully, not stumble, into the elevator. My room is on the fourteenth floor, and soft elevator music fills the cell while I wait. Finally, the door dings open. Except, when I step out, the heel of my stiletto catches on one of the tiles, and I fall forward, crashing into someone on the other side.