No.

[This he says after some reflection, waiting for his tea to go down, leaving the crease of his lips wet. He doesn't lick it away; it glints when he talks.]

This's the first time I've... you know. Gone on a field trip. Scenery looks pretty similar so far, though.

[The inside of a cabin. So exotic. Driver's own imagination can go spiralling off in as many directions as it wants, but it all comes back to the same sucking place in his thoughts: everywhere probably looks the same now. The dark, hot, filthy-scrubbed feeling of so many people living in a finite space, no pleasant way to escape each other except by sticking a big spike in their brains and pretending to leave.

For some reason, he keeps wondering how Olympus will smell. Whether the air will feel fresh. Maybe there's water there, natural cave lakes, strange depths still waiting to be discovered beneath the scabs of their poor burned-out planet. New architecture, shapes he hasn't seen in Zion. Terraces and train tracks. Maybe a road.
But really, in all the ways that count, he expects it to look the same.

He looks down into his cup.]

Do you do this a lot?