The Penny Drops (Sea the Depths Book 1) Karmon Kuhn (life changing books TXT) 📖

After recovering from the invasion of my space, I approached a desk. A cheery, young attendant sped over and sang, “Hello! How can I help you today?”

“What is the cost of lodging?” I asked.

“$150 a night starting price, but it depends on the length of your stay and how much space you need.” From nowhere, he pulled a glossy, folded paper covered in pictures of different sleeping arrangements.

My eyes searched the photos and then the attendant’s face. In answer, he said, “Well, why don’t we talk about how long you’ll be staying with us first?”

“Yes. I need lodging until further notice,” I said.

“Our extended stay rooms with sitting area and kitchenette will be great for you!”

“Yes.” I bowed my head and then asked, “How much do I pay?”

“We’ll just need a credit card to put on file!”

“Credit card?” I asked, unsure of what that could mean. I took out the wad of bills to show him and said, “I have money, but I have no card.”

“Oh. I see.” His tone changed, and the brightness of his smile faltered. “You ought to check out the Inamorata Inn down the street then. They take cash payments.”

Without another word, he turned on his heels and the false positivity melted from his face. I looked around, but no one had noticed. They were all too absorbed in their devices or conversations.

With my head down, I turned to go and bumped into more people. I used the touch to initiate contact. “Do you know where the Inamorata Inn is?”

“Look it up on Google,” one of the faces told me and then left me there as well.

“What is Google?” I asked.

No one answered, but I heard the same voice mutter “towel head” as he stared at me from the other side of the walkway. What in oceans did that mean?

Thoroughly disappointed and frustrated, I stomped out of the lodging and scanned the street. Luckily, the Inamorata Inn was close enough that I could read the sign and didn’t need to use the wretched device again or ask for more directions.

***

The building was much smaller and lacked the air and ambience of the first. It was covered in external doors which made it appear low and squat. Inside, it was even less appealing with its dark color scheme, visible stains, and detectable odor. I approached the counter and was given the gruff option of hourly, daily, or weekly rooms from an attendant who didn’t even look up from his profane reading material.

“Weekly,” I said.

“$500 for the full seven. No candles, the sheets get washed once a week, and be careful with the microwave. Most of them spark.”

I pulled the bills from my pack again and peeled apart the last of the twenties and all of my tens to pay this bill. Now, I had barely enough money left to buy my next meal.

The attendant snatched the cash from my hand and replaced it with a small, plastic card. I looked at the card and then back to the attendant.

“What is this?”

“It’s the key for your room,” he answered with scrunched features. Then, he demonstrated a sweeping up and down motion in the air and pointed to an arrow on the card. Rather than draw more attention to myself I decided to leave.

As I walked away, the attendant grumbled, “Turn right outside the front door and take the stairs up!”

I faced right when I exited and was confronted with what must have been the staircase, a set of steep steps up to a higher floor. It took great patience to work my way up to the top, and once I’d arrived, I planted my back against the wall. Why in oceans would these creatures have open space this high off the ground?

I slid across the wall and peered at the door numbers. A few doors to the right of the stairs was room, two hundred seven. With my back still stuck to the wall, I mimicked the motions that the attendant had shown me and a little green light flickered as something in the door shifted audibly. I pressed the door handle down and pushed in to reveal my living space. It was certainly not home as I was used to.

Inside was a single room attached to a washing area. It included an enormous square bed with tables beside it and electric lamps on top of them. At first, the shape of the bedding confused me, and then I laughed to myself. Humans were barely flexible enough to touch their toes, so they would hardly need a round sleeping area to roll up in.

The bath area was small, but I could make do for now. There was also a waste receptacle which was less funny than the bed. The idea of using precious fresh water to flush out waste was quite irritating.

The number of surfaces, technology, furniture, and other odds and ends was dizzying. Rather than investigate them, I gave in to the overwhelming urge to rest and collapsed on the bed.

Chapter 3

I

woke with a start and nearly screamed when I saw a figure clinging to the ceiling above me. Clapping a hand over my mouth to stifle the noise, I rolled off the bed, stumbled over to the window, and threw open the shades. With the morning light spilling in, I could see that there was a mirror above the bed. I was literally afraid of my own reflection. What was this mission doing to me?

I walked around the bed, trying to avoid looking up, and once I reached the wash area, I fiddled with the tap and splashed some water on my face. As soon as the water hit my face, there was a jolt in my chest. I forgot to check in with my zhoṣuṣùs! I stood and saw my eyes dilate. The gray irises barely registered before they were blurred by the all black pupil.

I ran into the other room