Apogee and Eschalon - Past Customs

Durango was reaching for his drink again. But aborts and jerked his chin up. A bit of lip biting ensued. The instruments on coils and tubes abruptly went noodle-limp and then were retracted up into the ceiling. The Clerk had leant forward, a little flustered, and his hand went to collect another punchcard. But nothing came. After some confusion he pursed his lips and stood up by his desk. Offers a somewhat disappointed wave as everyone had their cubicles open into the station's interior at large. He did manage to quickly stammer into the microphone, "One of the Eschalon will be here shortly."
And thusly, the interior of the floating station was opened up. A ~better~ looking lobby and music. Overly sweet scented air, and natives of the depot regarding all those synchronized open booth swooshes with some interest. A vast mall-like interior stretches towards a central hub. It's absolutely crammed to the bulkheads with devices on people and installed onto the structure. Time-saving things. Cosmetic application stalls. Lung scrubbing booths. Beauticians. Gadgets.
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