Spaceport bar
Desert light through the door, a stranger tuning up, nobody waiting on you
A dented metal cantina on the edge of a landing field, where the low sun comes in off the sand and lies in long stripes across the bar. A traveller sits on a stool by the window with an instrument across their back, and your own table still holds a drink, a bowl of olives and an open notebook. Outside, ships settle on the flats; inside, the neon planet hums over the bottles.
Indoors, City, Dusk, Sun, Playful, Music, Company, Neon, Dim, Liminal
In this room
- A journal: what you write stays in the room, and only the people you choose can read it.
- A sound of its own — rain, a fire, a radio station to leave playing.
- A clock that keeps your time.
- A window with the real weather where you are.
- A note for the day, where you will see it.
- Frames for your own photographs.
- An assistant that knows the room and what you keep in it.
- A shelf for your files.
- A lamp that turns the room from light to dark.
- The lamps give a soft glow.
- After dark the same room has a night of its own, with its own light.