Well, no luck there.

She wasn't sure what compelled her to ask a perfect stranger about her search. A self-imposed deadline? Fear of missing out on a limited time opportunity?

After asking that human, it was clear she was obviously in the wrong place. She started backtracking to the motels on 7-29, and, seemingly, her timing couldn't have been better.

A squad of several robots – or, people covered in heavy mechanical gear – were marching up towards the club just as she was leaving. They were all decorated in the exact same way: bright red lights from head to toe, and a metallic, bug-like head.

However, they paid her no mind; Janice shuffled to the side of the lane as they passed through. Evidently, city dwellers outside of Maroon's bowels took little notice of random passersby, which she was more than thankful for. Within the last hour or so, she'd already made considerable progress in relearning how to exist in human society – namely, remembering that not everybody was out to get her.

Aside from the group of scary armoured people, the walk back to the motel strip was uneventful.

She stopped on a broken sidewalk filled with gravel and looked at the building beside her. Fairweather Motel. It looked as decent as any, and it had a flashing “open” sign beside the front door, so she pulled the door open and walked in.

Janice found herself in a small but comfortable office space, mostly occupied by the clerk's portly desk. She walked up to the receptionist, who happened to be a sleek metal robot with a white finish and a singular blue eye looking back at her.

“Hello!” they greeted her. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, yes, I want to rent a room for a couple days,” Janice answered.

“Of course! Our rooms go for 9,200 a night. How long would you like to stay?”

Yow... maybe 60,000 wasn't so much after all. “...Three nights,” she responded without any prior thought. It was a compromise between price and duration, she told herself. “Um, can I ask kind of a weird question, first?”

The robot tilted their head. “Of course.”

“Do you know anyone named Glenn?”

A lengthy silence permeated the air. The receptionist tilted their head straight up, and then back down in the world's slowest nod.

“Ratcliff?” the robot asked with a drastically different demeanor.

Janice pursed her lips. “He drives a truck. Semi driver,” she confessed, unsure if that information would suffice in place of Glenn's surname.

The receptionist answered with another nod. “Who's he to you?” Their voice had lowered considerably.

She retorted with a downcast gaze. “Friend of mine who drove me into the city from Ystets. I'm looking for a safe place to stay for a couple nights. He told me there were some good people around here.”

“You hot?”

Janice suddenly looked uneasy. “Am I what...?”

The robot leaned closer. “Is anyone coming after you?”

“Oh, no, no! Nothing like that. Just in a... kind of a transition period right now.”

“Understood, understood.” The clerk began operating their computer, clicking away with the mouse. “I'll just need your name.”

“Janice.”

“Last name?”

She wasn't prepared for that question. Janice blurted out the first thing that came to mind – “Viella.”

“Perfect. All right, Ms. Viella, three nights will be 18,400 srakna.”

Janice raised her eyebrows at the final price. An error that blatant couldn't be accidental. She decided it was better not to question it. “Do you take cash?”

“Yes.”

Janice rifled through her pocket and pulled out her wad of paper money, and then handed the clerk five 5,000 srakna bills. The bot sorted the money into a drawer behind their desk before presenting Janice with her change.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Of course.” The receptionist handed her a key from behind their desk. “Your room is 112, just down the hall. Check out time is 11am. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask!”

“Thanks!” she repeated.

Ms. Viella... I sound so dignified! Janice Viella walked down the hall with a bright grin across her face. Although the idea of living in a numbered room was still a touch disquieting to her, too many things were going nicely to let it ruin her mood.

At least it's not 33, she halfheartedly joked.

Room 112 was mere seconds away. The hallway was brightly lit with no windows, and the burgundy wallpaper gave the building's interior a warm, comfortable atmosphere. It was a sign of what was to come – she opened the door to 112 and was greeted by an equally clean space with matching décor.

She smiled even more as she carefully browsed the room, looking over the queen-size bed, desk, table for one, kitchenette, and holographic display television mounted on the wall opposite the bed. It was a small space, but she didn't mind. For three days, it was hers.

Janice flopped down on the bed, which was a tad squeaky, but it was a very minor issue she had no problem ignoring.

Next step: figure out how to get internet on this phone...! She pulled it out of her pocket and gave it a determined glare.