"Lambert? 237?" The woman at the desk, in a modest, businesslike uniform, appeared to have been daydreaming for a second. Perhaps caught up in the music, or the grandeur of the enormous lobby he had walked into, the voices of incoming guests echoing off the walls.

She typed something into her computer and scanned the page briefly.

"Ah, that's on the second floor, first right along the hallway." she said, trying hard to recount where the room was "Nice view of the courtyard from the balcony." She added, cheerfully, handing him a bronze-colored card of some sort.

If one side of the card or the other was supposed to be scanned, it wasn't apparent which was which. Both sides were identical, reflective orange. She may well have handed him a peice of well-polished scrap metal.