Sam Sheldon preferred to ride the city’s MetroRail system to and from work. The commute was only forty-five minutes one way. The railcars were often filled to the hilt with people, and the cleanliness was sometimes questionable. But the expense of maintaining a car and parking it in the city made riding the public railway system the most economical and sensible way to go.
The MetroRail had become more than a means of transportation for him. Each railcar became a mobile temple where he could meditate on his mundane life, and hope to find some sort of enlightenment. He thought about his marriage and his wife, who was emasculating and sexually distant. He thought about his two teenage sons, spoiled by the privilege of living in the suburbs and not having to work for the material things they wanted. He thought about his home with its overwhelming spaciousness and expensive décor. He thought about his demanding boss at the architectural firm he worked, and the clients who were unrealistic and unyielding in their deadlines.