Acutely mindful that he had left the service and would earn no more juicy credit bonuses, he took the monorail instead.
He was pointing into the distance and expounding on the merits of the monorail system.
He tossed and turned and worried and finally—comfortable as the monorail car was—he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
But Tom kept listening to the subdued click of the monorail—and kept wondering.
Standing up, he stretched and touched the top of the monorail car.
To start the early Wright biplanes, the machines were placed on a monorail, along which they were towed by a cable.
Wearily, they drifted with the crowd and stepped on the slidestairs leading down to the monorail platform.
Roads, monorail lines, all the countless tracks of civilization had disappeared beneath the green tide.
The monorail car was crowded, primarily with afternoon-shift workers on their way to the industrial area.
A small cubicle jutted out from the ship and lowered itself along a monorail running down to the ground.