The station was utilitarian by design, lacking any of the usual trappings of a commercial metro in favour of riveted steel walls arching into a ceiling housing austere inset lights, smooth tiled floors, and a triple-pane HenbouGlass airlock with every imaginable security scanner crammed between its apertures where turnstiles would have been. On either side of the rails were floor to ceiling glass walls, making the waiting area a fully enclosed room of its own. Within moments of their passing through the airlock, a smooth silver capsule appeared in near silence from the left, like a fat tuna skimming the surface only without face, fin, or tail. The car halted directly in front of them; the central panes between them and the tracks separated far enough for them to pass abreast and board. The interior was physically comfortable but visually devoid of decorative features. Simple slate upholstered seats lined the circumference of the vehicle in an oval broken only by the door and deep bolstering providing individual spaces. The foam rubber cushions were soft without feeling luxurious and dense enough to last decades without deformation. The walls and ceiling melted together in an unbroken curve of pale pewter and hid…