For years, isolation tanks have been fodder for science-fiction films and the butt of sitcom jokes. In the 1980 thriller Altered States, William Hurt’s character devolved into a primordial blob after a succession of drug-fueled sessions in a tank. Other incarnations have been lampooned on everything from The Simpsons to Ab Fab.

But could the enclosed chambers, in which people float in the dark atop 1,000 pounds of Epsom salts dissolved in filtered and oxygenated water, unable to access (or even hear) handheld computers or cell phones, be the next hot item for stressed-out executives? Operators of flotation centers and tank manufacturers from around the country say yes.

Consider Blue Light Floatation in New York. Since 1985, Sam Zeiger’s Manhattan apartment has doubled as a homespun spot for the hurting or overstimulated. Within his fiberglass tub, kick-boxers regularly float before competitions. An out-of-town client recently floated for three hours every day to speed his recovery from shoulder surgery. The cost for a session is $70 an hour, considerably cheaper than the $100 or more many spas charge for massages, and last year was a record success for the business.

“It seems like you’re in the vastness of space,” Zeiger says. “You won’t even feel where your skin leaves off and the water and air begin.”

Dr. John C. Lilly invented the first light- and soundproof flotation chambers in the 1950s—complete with clunky helmets for breathing underwater. (He also experimented with LSD to heighten his experiences.) The modern incarnations are more streamlined and sophisticated. The dissolved salts allow people to float effortlessly, and the water is set to 93.5 degrees Fahrenheit to match the surface temperature of skin.

The wacky, retro image hasn’t completely faded, but a new generation has been warming to isolation tanks.

Marc Arendt, a semiretired project manager for an investment information company and a longtime regular at SpaceTime Tanks in Chicago, has been averaging two visits a week over the past few months. “It just makes me feel better,” says Arendt, who has used his sessions for everything from meditation to recovering from his triathlon and marathon training. “I’ve liked it so much, I’m considering starting my own flotation center.”

One Bay Area real estate developer says his weekly sessions at Float Matrix in San Francisco have helped him visualize his financial goals and keep perspective despite his nose-diving stock portfolio. “It’s cheaper than a massage, and it actually relaxes me more,” he says.

Meanwhile, Kane Mantyla, who co-owns Float Matrix with his wife, Grace, says their two-pod flotation center hit the break-even point just 14 months after it opened, and that business has been growing at the brisk pace of about 15 percent a month. “People are definitely opening up to something that was truly a mystery,” Mantyla says, blaming past misconceptions of isolation tanks on oversensationalized media depictions.