Missing Clearance Badge for the Transit Fleet

Missing Clearance Badge for the Transit Fleet

I was late for my usual morning commuter train, but the platform was inside this massive, curved hangar made of white composite metal. My old high school chemistry teacher was checking boarding passes at the turnstile, only instead of a regular ticket, I was supposed to have a printed clearance badge for the outer transit fleet. Everyone else in line wore regular winter coats over these sleek, pressurized jumpsuits, acting totally normal, while I was just in my old pajamas clutching a half-empty mug of coffee. I looked out the floor-to-ceiling concourse windows and instead of the city skyline, there were two huge ringed moons and a row of giant freight cruisers docked silently in the dark. I kept frantically digging through my backpack for my pass, finding old grocery receipts and tangled headphones, feeling so embarrassed while the line piled up behind me and the intercom announced the final departure to the forward sector.