The cable-car hostess wore a blue uniform, matching hat and white gloves. Her hair, glossy black and below her shoulders, had obviously been brushed at least a hundred times that morning; the ends were neatly trimmed. I could detect no perfumed scent, and her face was free from make-up, although her applied red lips reflected in the shiny microphone held a few inches from her mouth. She spoke for the whole ascent, not looking at anyone and void of any expression. If I had not seen her moving lips mirrored on the microphone, I would have sworn that the information was a pre-recorded tape similar to the ones on the trains and buses that announced the next stop. No-one else seemed to notice her; video-cameras were focused on the sombre scene below. On arrival, she bowed and moved aside.
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