Adam pushed through the doors, sensing a subtle airlock in the foyer, before he too stepped out into the Manhattan Dome. It was 42nd Street and overwhelmingly crowded on the pavement. Above, the dome was brilliantly colored by a projected sunset that dazzled Adam’s eyes. It reflected off the gleaming steel and glass towers reaching into the upper haze in yellows, pinks, and orange and purple, blending into a symphony of swirling colors.
He bumped into a passerby, who scowled and shoved him as they pushed past. The street was busy with pods zipping along, some rocketing upward to the high reaches of the towers, passing upper tiers of hover bike lanes, slow, floating supply trucks, and delivery couriers warning him with rapid beeps, the noise warping as they whizzed past. Virtually enhanced storefronts lined the walkways, flashing and tantalizing with colorful displays.
The sidewalks were cluttered with people gliding on their hovershoes in a dizzyingly complicated dance of directions. Everyone seemed so impeccably and extravagantly dressed, in styles Adam didn’t even know how to describe. In reality, they were all wearing expensive generic smocks, but their Lucid augmented realities ascribed almost comical plumage to their fashions. One woman had a dark green braid trailing behind her head like a prehensile limb.
