There's a needle.

Bernard stands outside a hotel room, trying to figure out what city he's in. There's a big needle in the distance, but it's not really that big. Is it Seattle that has the needle? I mean, that needle isn't that big. Is it like a fake needle? Bernie's gotten so good at tripping acid at work that he can't even care what city he's in. He says to the taxi driver, "Take me to the Holiday Inn," after he gets off work. When he's supposed to go back to work, he says, "Take me to the airport."

Everything is automated. When he shows up on the plane, the people all go to the same places, and he stands off to the side while the prettiest flight attendant talks about how to fasten a seat belt or properly die. When he opens the fridge at the back of the plane, it's filled up again with juice and soda. All the meals, whether vegetarian or kosher or halal, are arranged by seat number. It doesn't really matter if Bernie's tripping. It just makes everything much more interesting, yet also more predictable.

So Bernie's still tripping pretty decently once he gets to his hotel. He smokes his Lucky Strikes and thinks to himself, The name of the city should at least be written on a fuckin' bus or a taxi. There are probably maps or something in the lobby. He smokes another cigarette, and then another, etc. The sun sets enough that the needle isn't so interesting anymore and he stops looking at it.

He goes over his daily checklist:

1. 8 months and 4 days since I last drank alcohol.
2. 3 months and 3 days since I last drank soda.
3. 9 months and 6 days since I last ate meat.
4. 1 year, 2 months, and 9 days since I last had sex.

He briefly wonders how Sal is doing, and immediately regrets asking himself that question. I wonder if this is the city we met in and the city where I grew up. A strange thought, but even stranger that it's true. Who knows if the city decided to install a needle somewhere downtown to revitalize the city. He hasn't paid attention for at least two years. He realizes that someone is sitting on the bench next to where he's standing and decides to ask him, "What's in that needle?"
He gets a blank answer of, "Umm, there's nothing in it. You just go up and look at the city"
"What's it called?"
The guy scratches his head and answers, "The Panoptacle?"
Bernard laughs until he starts dry heaving.