Microstory 2498: Conjunction 11

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These are vactrain hubs, and there are twelve of them. They’re evenly spaced all over the planet, according to an icosahedron model. While the world is obviously a sphere, an icosahedron shape can be overlaid on it in order to minimize the number of Conjunctions needed. It would be utterly impractical to have a vacuum tube that went from one dome to every single other. While there’s technically space for that, it would require far too much management and maintenance. So many of such tunnels would not be used very much, or at all. How many people are going from, say, Ancient Egypt to Prairiedome? It certainly wouldn’t be an impossibility, but that tube would likely be sitting vacant most of the time. Layovers have been a staple for our civilization for centuries, but this system is a lot better than its predecessors. First off, while the tubes themselves are limited, the trips are often exquisitely planned. Because each dome does have a direct line to each of the twelve conjunctions. As you would expect, a dome will have twelve stations, and you go to the one that leads to your destination. Currently, most trains leave about an average of every thirty minutes, but that fluctuates, and will continue to change, because it’s based on demand. If literally no one is going from Conjunction 6 to Conjunction 4, then it’s not even going to bother leaving. It will just sit there until someone signs up prior to the next cycle. I probably don’t need to tell you all this, because there is already sufficient literature on how to travel around the world, but I’ve always loved transportation, so while I’m finding lots of enjoyment from the other domes, I tend to focus more on the logistics than most visitors do.

So let’s talk about how it works once you’re in the Conjunction. As I said, each dome has a direct route to every single one. That’s important. I read up on the history, and the original plans called for multiple layovers, where you travel to your nearest hub, then the hub nearest your destination, and finally your final destination. That would be so bad, but I’m sure most people are glad that they ended up building up the infrastructure much more than that. The Conjunctions are so well-designed, and there is so much redundancy. If you are in a train car with visitors who are going through the same Conjunction, but different final destinations, your car will stop, and have you get off. At that point, you will just about immediately step into a private multi-directional elevator pod. It can only fit eleven people, but if you have luggage, obviously fewer. If you’re in a party of one, you can have a pod to yourself, and if you’re in a party of 22, you’re gonna have to split up. That’s just fine, they have enough to accommodate everyone who can fit in any given train car over only a few moments. Your pod will take you to your next station, where a second train will come for you to deliver you to the right dome. You might still be alone, but the builders thought of this. Not all vactrain cars are the same size. That’s why you tell the system where you’re going, so they can prepare the right one for you, to save the larger ones for more popular domes, even if the popularity shifts hour by hour. It’s such a robust system, I’m so impressed. There are so many things going on in the background, but you don’t have to worry about that. You just get on, get off, pod over, get on, and get off again. Despite there being more than three times as many stations worldwide than there have ever been airports on Earth, travel has never been simpler. And your trip will never take longer than three and a half hours from anywhere else. And that’s assuming you stop for coffee.

Microstory 2466: Grand Central Sewage

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According to lore, this was originally called Primary Sewage Treatment Dome. They changed it, because they wanted it to sound a little more fun. Because in reality, it’s not fun at all. It’s the grossest aspect of this planet, in my humble opinion. Let’s start with the water. Every sufficiently completed dome handles its own water treatment for the most part. Using state-of-the-art plants, the sewage is collected, filtered, and recycled as needed. This clean water is then pumped back into their own pipe network, and if there’s any excess, it can be returned to the planet’s water table. There isn’t much of a water table, but it does exist, and it’s growing every day. What’s left over after all of the water has been reclaimed is called sludge, and while it’s absolutely disgusting, it is absolutely not useless. There are all sorts of goodies in your waste. It can be used for biogas, fertilizer, and even feedstock for additive printers. That’s right, the device you’re using to read this review may be made out of poop! It’s a...different circle of life. Certain useful ingredients can also be extracted from the sludge, like phosphorus, nitrogen, and cellulose. These chemicals are all processed here, and redistributed as necessary. But first, it has to get here. As I said, each individual dome reclaims its own recycled water, but since there’s only one Grand Central Sewage, it all has to be pelletized, sealed up, and transported somehow. Enter the vactrain network. That’s right, the same tubes you use to travel from your residential dome to, say, Archidome, are also used to transport waste. Don’t worry, though. They use entirely different trains, and entirely different train stations. It’s probably right under your feet, though. If you were to step through a maintenance door, and walk down the steps, you could end up in a second station where waste is moved into the tubes. Scrap is shipped from here as well. Every time you throw away some packaging, or a part breaks off from some equipment, it goes to one of these hidden stations too, so it can head off to a separate dome, colloquially known as The Scrapyard. I reviewed that dome as well, because I actually like the utility domes. I find the secret, underground means by which we live to be more interesting than what we do on the surface. It’s not pretty, and it’s not glamorous, but it is monumentally important. Yes, it might be a little weird to know that the chair your sitting on could have been in someone’s body at some point, but trust me, this is better. We used to just dump our waste in a hole, and leave it there forever. Talk about disgusting.

Microstory 2015: New Mexico

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Papa met a lot of cool new friends when he went to college in Utah. He was still friends with some of them even as an adult. A few of them were at his funeral. One summer, after he was finished with his junior year at Promontory University, some of these friends decided that they wanted to go hiking and camping. Normally in the summer, papa would go home to stay with his parents, but he wanted to go on the trip too. They had done trips like this before, but always somewhere close. A mountain called Wheeler Peak would have taken them twelve hours to drive, but none of them wanted to be on the road for that long, so they bought train tickets instead. The journey was actually longer, because trains have to make a lot of stops, but it was much more comfortable. It was a popular destination for college kids, so a train went pretty close to both places. They still had to take a car to get to the mountain. They didn’t want to spend money on a rental, so they hitchhiked, which means they asked for a ride from a stranger. Dad says never to do that, because it’s dangerous, but papa and his friends were okay. They hiked for several miles up the mountain, and it was really hard, but they enjoyed it. I’ve seen the pictures that he took while he was there. They’re very beautiful. Once they were finished with the hike, they went back to the train station, and took different trains, because they needed to go to different places. Papa did end up going back home to Idaho until it was time for his senior year.

Microstory 782: Sax

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One of my favorite bands growing up was Sunday Think About It, in no small part because of their variety of instruments that they used. I listened to their debut album, I Miss U!! I don’t know how many times. You can imagine how excited I was when I won tickets on the radio to see their Hudson City show, which would be their only Usonian stop during their international tour. The package included, not only two backstage passes, but also the opportunity to hang out with the band after the show. My best friend, Daleka and I were so incredibly excited, but there was just one problem: we lived thousands of miles away, and we had no money, and no vehicle. Our parents were supportive of us going, but since we had no way of getting there, they obviously didn’t think it would be a problem, so maybe that wasn’t so genuine. Well, we sure showed them. Keep in mind that this was a time before cell phones and security camera facial recognition. Back in these days, if you were caught on a train without a ticket, the conductor would send a message to the next station, where a law enforcement officer would be waiting for you. Of course, if you had enough cash on you, you could just pay for a ticket without dealing with the authorities, but if you had the money in the first place, you probably wouldn’t have had to sneak on at all. We played it right, though. He came by to check tickets, and we pretended like we were looking for them, freaking out about having lost them. There were real tears, and everything. We put on a good show. Fortunately, we are on the express line, which meant the stops were few and far between, so it would be awhile before he could let us off. He took pity on us, and agreed not to involve the law, I kind of always felt bad about us manipulating him.

As far as we had gotten, we hadn’t gotten far enough. We were able to hitchhike a few more legs, but that soon got tiring, and people weren’t willing to take us very far without being paid. We needed better options, so we thought up a new approach. Daleka had brought with her a saxophone, hoping that the band’s saxophonist at the time, Lochana McGiddy would sign it for, oblivious to the fact that nothing writes well on brass. Neither of us actually played the saxophone, but I was a decent flautist, so I knew I could figure it out. Every city we went to, we would find parks with the most number of visitors, and perform for them. We realized our shtick was better off with humorous undertones, with me “purposely” playing poorly, and Daleka dancing ridiculously. Well, we made it to the concert on time, and it was great. Unfortunately, we never did get to meet the band, though, as there were some failures to communicate that were beyond our control. As it turns out, the radio people didn’t have everything in order. Then about ten years later, someone on the internet invented a website where you could post short videos. Someone else, in one of the cities that paid our way to Hudson uploaded some footage from our performance. In response to this, others realized they had seen the same act in their own cities, and uploaded our other performances. Somehow, the band members of Sunday Think About It at the time caught wind of this, and saw our morning show interview about it. Feeling bad for having failed to meet us those many years ago, they invited us to Austin; paid our way, and everything. We started a jam session, and well, granddaughter of mine, you can guess the rest. I spent the next twenty-four years as their saxophonist.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 4, 2150

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Fancy Dardieti doctors were able to fix Mateo’s fist up in no time, completely removing the pain within minutes, and healing the bones within hours. He called it an accident, which Leona didn’t believe, but she also got the feeling that she ought to let it go. She knew that he had been having secret conversations with Arcadia all this time, and worried it would make things worse to bring it up. Arcadia was a loose cannon, so they wouldn’t get through this if they upset Arcadia too much. There was just no telling what might set her off. Punching the table could have ruined everything. Technically, it still could. Yet he forced himself into higher spirits, reinforced by a convincing Lincoln Rutherford, who had taken acting lessons in a literal other life. He decided to spend the rest of the day with his wife, and the third wheel of their tadpole tricycle. He didn’t want to say anything about the dreaded 2151. He knew he would have to this year, though, because he didn’t want them disappearing without having heard his final words. No, he wasn’t supposed to think like that. In every movie, they always claim the dying person can tell their loved ones this themselves when it’s all over, but this isn’t a movie, it’s real life. Sometimes you don’t survive, and sometimes you don’t win. He may fail at their expiation, or he may die in the trying. Or both.

The next morning, they continued to spend the day together, but were scheduled to have dinner on the other side of the continent. It would take about an hour to get there by train, so he pulled the other two into a private car.

“This doesn’t look good,” Leona said, somewhat jokingly.

“No, it doesn’t,” Serif agreed. The two of them had grown closer over the last several days, which was good. He still didn’t quite understand what it meant to tear people out of time, but always imagined that they were somewhere, like maybe a train station with no escape. If this were the case, at least Leona and Serif would have each other. If.

“I need to talk to you about tomorrow,” Mateo said to them soberly.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“You will both be taken out of time. Taken from me.”

“You know this?”

He started massaging his hand, which no longer hurt, but he could still feel that something had happened to it. “Arcadia informed me yesterday. We...had words.”

“Did you strike her, Mateo?”

“No, of course not. I would never.”

“I mean, I’d be fine if you did. Chivalry really only applies to humans, not monsters.”

“I hit the table, but you seem to be missing the point.”

“No, no, we heard you. We just...does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” he said. “How could it not? I know you don’t remember the details of everyone we’ve lost so far, but I would let them all go just to keep you two.”

“Well, that’s not something a girl wants to here. May sound romantic, but it isn’t.”

“I don’t think you two fully appreciate the seriousness of the situation. You’ll be gone.”

“Somehow I don’t think we’ll be upset under those conditions.”

“Is this a joke to you?”

“Love, you need to understand this. Those people are gone, poof. They don’t exist. That’s hard to fathom, I know, but in physics, that shit happens all the time. Sometimes particles just pop out of existence, and we don’t know where they go. Sometimes they pop back in, and we don’t know why, or what prompts that. Let me ask you this, how did you feel before you were born?”

“What?”

“Before you were born, when you didn’t exist, did you feel bad? Did you not like it? Did you wish you existed.”

“Okay, well no, of course not. Because...”

“Because you had no feelings,” she finished. “You couldn’t feel anything. That’s basically what she does. She just unborns you.”

“All right, fine. But I’m gonna remember. Lincoln’s gonna remember.”

“He will?”

“Yeah, I guess the cat’s out of the bag. He remembers everybody—better than I do.”

“Well.” She hesitated. “At least you have someone you can talk to.”

“I don’t. We’re not allowed to talk.” He breathed deeply, trying desperately to stop from hyperventilating. “I’m not even allowed to tell you. My God, what is she gonna do?”

Arcadia teleported into the car. “Don’t say anything about it,” she ordered Leona and Serif. “Keep your mouth shut about Lincoln for the rest of the day, and there won’t be any consequences.” She was gone before any of them could respond, but not before she gave Mateo a look, as if she’d just done him a favor.

“I’m gonna be alone with this,” he continued. “Lincoln...sees this kind of thing all the time. To him, we are particles. But I’ll feel the pain, and I’ll have to push it down so I can work on your expiation. Let me tell you, I’ve never been more afraid of anything in my life, and I once jumped off a cliff.” He looked down where the wall met the floor, going through his memory archives. “Shit, I drove off of a cliff too. Do I have a death wish?”

His loves waited patiently as he pulled himself out of the tangential existential crisis.

“I don’t know what I thought this conversation was meant to accomplish here,” he admitted. “I feel like you’re going away, but you’re right, I don’t understand that. I get that everyone else’s memory is gonna be wiped. I get that I’m going to have to do something really difficult to get you back. But I can’t help but picture you getting on a bus. Just a regular bus that will eventually turn around and come back. Which means it’s important we have this talk so you can do something with it wherever you are when you’re not here. But a part of me does know that that’s not how it works. You’ll be stuck in time, and it’s the rest of us who will be going on without you, sliding down that timestream, at our respective speed. I guess that’s sort of how our loved ones feel when we jump into the future. Those interim years don’t exist to me, because I don’t experience them, but to everyone else, they’re very real.” He fell silent.

They remained patient.

This wasn’t fair. Through all this, Leona was always there. If Arcadia took her away from him, he would fall apart. Maybe that was part of her plan, but on the off-chance it wasn’t, he had to get through to her. He had to appeal to her better angels. “Arcadia Preston,” he prayed. “We need to talk. Please.” He waited. “Please, this is important.”

“Mateo, what do you think you’ll get from her? What are you going to ask?”

He was going to ask for more power. She was so strong that he could never hope to defeat her. Not alone. He needed allies, and if Leona and Serif couldn’t be that for him anymore, then he would need to find them elsewhere. By asking this from her, he asserts himself as a free-thinking individual, and an opposing force not so willing to roll over to her whims. It also might be so crazy that it intrigues her. If there’s one thing all Prestons have in common, it’s that they like surprises. His prayers weren’t getting through, so he decided to change tactics. He stood up and headed for the back.

“Mateo? Honey? What are you doing?”

“I need help?”

“Okay, we can get you help. You should sit down, though.”

“No, this is the only way,” he said, staring out the window.

“What’s the only way?”

He opened the train door.

“Mateo, stop!”

He didn’t look back, because either of their faces could stop him from following through with what he was utterly convinced had to be done. “Were I you,” he said to them quietly, harkening back to their code for I love you. Then he held his hands behind his back, closed his eyes, and dropped out of the moving vehicle, towards the train tracks.

“Uncle Tommy,” was the first thing Arcadia said.

He opened his eyes to find himself in a dark room. Or...just darkness, because he couldn’t actually see anything. “What?”

“Ya know...because you killed yourself..knowing I would have to save you from it..but you did it to save someone from being ripped out of time.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’ve never seen The 4400?”

“Zeferino must have forgotten to make me watch that one.”

“Yeah, well, there’s an episode that’s exactly like what you just did. Freakin’ weirdo.”

“I’m guessing no one called the character a freakin’ weirdo.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to make a deal.”

“I’m listening.”

“Leona and Serif are two different people. That the former didn’t always exist is irrelevant to that fact.”

“Do you mean latter?”

“Whatever, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t know what you mean when you claim a guy like you is married to one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.”

“Do you wanna hear my pitch, or not?”

“Shoot.”

“They’re two people. So are Horace and Paige. You never said you would ever take two people out at the same time, but you’ve already done it once, and you’re preparing to do it again.”

“Okay...”

“I don’t think that’s fair.”

“I don’t think I care.”

“You owe me two people.”

“How do you figure?”

“You do the math.”

“No, you do the math. It doesn’t matter that I took them at the same time. I was gonna take them either way. Your argument is weak.”

“Still, I think you owe me. I’m firm on this.”

“What, you want me to create a person for you?”

“No, just give two of them back.”

“I’m not returning two people to you, Mateo. That’s not how this works, which I explained at the beginning, and who’s the one trying to change the rules now?”

“I’ve already beaten every expiation, so just give a couple back early. What’s the harm?”

“Okay, I appreciate your logic, and your audacity. I will say, though, that I did you favor when I brought Paige back the first time, which I never had the obligation to do, so that’s no longer an issue. Serif...she’s a bit different. So I will agree to a deal on her behalf.”

“I choose Gilbert.”

“Yes, that’s a beautiful sentiment, but no.”

He didn’t think that would work, but your first ask always need to be high so they don’t negotiate you down too far. “Okay, counteroffer.”

She purposely sported an evil smile. “You’re gonna love it. Oh, you’re gonna love it so much.”

Oh, no. “What? Who?” The Cleanser was her obvious choice, or maybe their sister, The Blender. They were his two worst enemies. No one else would fit with the level of dastardly excitement she was exhibiting.

“Do you remember when Reaver was telling you why he was trying to kill you in your pre-Hitler’s murder reality?”

“Yeah...? You’re gonna give me that version of Horace?”

“No. Better. There was another reality before that; the one where he was married to Leona. You knew both of them. Rather, a version of you knew them. You weren’t particularly close, but you were responsible for her death. Had you survived Horace’s rage, this mistake would have haunted you for the rest of your life.”

“What are you saying?”

“Extracting people from realities that don’t exist anymore is generally beyond even my abilities. I can call in a favor, though.”

“Arcadia, this is not what I had in mind.”

“That’s what makes it taste so good.” She snapped her fingers. A silhouette appeared on the other side of the room, only partially illuminated by a light. “Mateo Matic, meet...Alt!Mateo Matic.”

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Microstory 388: Station

Click here for a list of every step.
Gourmet Eating

Does he mean, like a train station? Or a bus station, maybe? No, of course not, that would be stupid, self. Just like the one about extravagance, I guess I put this in here so that I could discuss it, but not so that I could be a proponent for it. I’ve always completely hated the idea of a class system. I think most people disagree with classes they hear about in “dem foreign countries”, but most don’t think all that much about the ones at home. We each live at a particular station. The only difference between now and the dark ages is that anyone can theoretically move up in rank and make their life better. The problem with this, and capitalism in general, is that there always has to be people at the bottom. In order for the rich to exist, and live in such extravagance, there have to be those living below them. In fact, the number of people living below them must necessarily be greater. This is where the 99% movement came from. It’s funny, those protests began not long after I heard independently that statistic about the top 1% controlling about 40% of the world’s wealth. I even designed an entire television series around that concept. It’s set in another galaxy where a parallel race of humans have mastered genetic engineering to the point of generating trillions of slaves using the DNA of human precursors (not neanderthals). The main characters are from...well, they’re closer to Earth, but not all of them are from here. Their main objective is to end slavery altogether and created a more balanced economy for all residents. They’re met with backlash from even the poorest in the galaxy because this is the only system they understand, and not even they consider the slaves worth protecting. They’re literally sub-human, after all. But to me, it doesn’t matter. As someone with a soul, I’m pretty good at detecting other people with souls, and every soul deserves freedom. But I’ll even take it further than that and make the claim that no one should be without. Every single individual has a right to everything they want.  This includes food, shelter, clothes, brownies, and even spaceships. Screw your station. I’m not better than you, and you’re not better than me. We’re just different.

Acknowledgement

Overwritten: Train Train Go Away (Part IV)

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As I’m waiting to board the train, I can hear the woman who sells tickets get into it with a guy who is trying to purchase one at the last minute. As she’s giving him a hard time about his identification, I realize that I recognize him. His name is Mateo Matic. He first disappeared mysteriously in 2014, and then again in 2015, almost exactly one year later. Ever since then, I’ve spotted him hanging with Reaver’s alternate timeline wife, Leona Delaney, but only once a year. I was watching her before Reaver was paying me for it. He must be some kind of time traveler as well. I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but Reaver probably has dastardly plans for him. They might could be friends, but I highly doubt it. If he feels threatened by Mateo when it comes to his theoretical love, then only death will follow. Are my plans failing? Is Reaver falling into the same pattern as before? What am I going to do now?

I board the train, cautiously sit behind Mateo, and flip on the tablet that Micro gave me. She never told me exactly where they want the train to be, or when they want it to be there. I’m just supposed to let the program she wrote run and do absolutely nothing else. But I am going to do something else. I’m going to monitor Mateo and get a better sense of who he is. If I fear that his death is imminent then I’ll pull the plug on the whole operation. I’ll only be able to do this once, though. After I make that move, Reaver will no longer trust me. He doesn’t go on his killing spree in the alternate timeline for the better part of two decades. Anything could happen. Man, I really hope I don’t have to burn this bridge.

Mateo does nothing of note throughout most of the trip, but then someone gets on the intercom and claims that all the frequent stops are just as annoying to them because they have to be there too. Yikes. I adjust my body into a defensive position, worried that they’ll find out that I’m the one causing this. Micro assured me that no one would know, that these kind of scheduling issues used to happen all the time, but I’m still worried. Maybe I should have gone ahead and taken that stage combat class. A man on the other side of the aisle reacts to the announcement, “the difference between us and the crew, is that we are paying for the misery, while they are being paid.”

“So true,” Mateo answers.

“What’s your final destination?” the man asks. Who is this guy? Is he another time traveler? Another investigator? A threat? An ally? Does he know something, or is he just a stranger on a train?

Mateo takes a long time to answer. Either that or he’s ignoring him. I don’t have a great vantage point. I should have sat behind this dude’s seat so that I could secretly see Mateo from there. Rookie mistake.

“I didn’t know it was a trick question,” the man says with a laugh.

“No, sorry. It’s Grand Junction, Colorado.”

“Business or pleasure.”

I see Mateo take a deep breath. “New life,” he says with conviction.

“Ah, interesting. Running from, or just running to?”

Mateo tilts his head and pauses again. He must just be a thoughtful character, not wanting to answer inaccurately or rashly. “Both.” Nice answer; short and sweet.

“Well, I’m rooting for you. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Thanks,” Mateo says, but it doesn’t sound genuine. The train lurches and begins to move again. “What do you do for a living?” He doesn’t sound all that interested.

“I’m a physicist. The name’s Duke Andrews. I assume you don’t have a career at the moment. What’s your name?”

“Mateo. I don’t have a last name anymore, though.”

“Full commitment,” Duke says back. “I respect that.” He really does sound like he respects the decision, if that really is what Mateo is going for. If Mateo’s struggle to buy the train ticket is any indication, his last name is no longer relevant. To perhaps his family and friends, he’s been missing. To the world, and particularly the government, he would no longer exist. Once you’re gone for long enough, they’ll just decide you’re dead. Mateo probably hasn’t reached that point yet, but he will relatively soon.

After another delay, I look at my watch and see that we’re about nine hours behind schedule. I wonder if that means we’re on schedule. I can hear Mateo open a paper map. A paper map. Paper. Guy still uses paper; what a weirdo. Eventually, he stops moving. I have this strange thought that the program I’ve been running does more than just manipulate train movements. Or maybe it doesn’t do that at all. Maybe it’s been sending out a magic signal that’s programmed to rupture Mateo’s brain stem, or some crazy science fiction like that. I stand up and head towards the front of the train so I can get a look while I’m heading for the lavatory. Crap. The lav is behind us. What will my excuse be then? I’m overthinking it, and no one is watching me. Yes, they are. Duke eyes me with suspicion. Or maybe it’s curiosity. I just need to leave. I could have business in another car. What does he know? He doesn’t know. Screw him! I’m going to another car, and he can’t do anything about it. Is the food car up ahead, or is it behind us? No, it doesn’t matter. Just keep walking. My only threat is Duke Andrews, and he can go to hell!

But he’s not the only potential threat to my life as a train schedule hacker. With each subsequent car, the chances that the food car is up ahead decreases. Soon, I realize that it can’t be, and I’m walking forward for no reason. There are other people here, and they are all watching me. They’re all cops, and judges, and time travelers, and “Reaver Enterprises” spies. That’s right, this entire train is full of people who work for Reaver. This is all a big test, and I’m failing. Shit, I have to get back to my seat. But how’s a man gonna turn around? If I just stop in the middle of one of the cars and start heading in the opposite direction, people will be like, dafuq is that guy doing? Because, like I said, they all work for Reaver, so they’re all watching me. Doesn’t matter. If I’ve failed, then I’ve failed. All I can do is go back and keep my head down from now on. Sure, I might be headed towards my death, but I knew that from the start. This train may very well be on a collision course. It could have been designed to kill Mateo, or to kill me. But that would be ridiculous because all the other people on the train work for Reaver too. Surely he wouldn’t kill so many of his own employees. No, stop thinking like that. That’s called paranoia. They don’t all work for him. Maybe half. No, shut up! Nobody works for Horace Reaver. Well, except for me, of course. And maybe someone else. And probably one more for good measure.

I sit back down in my seat and take my anxiety medicine. After a while, I can hear Mateo moving around again. He’s alive. For now.

Duke shuffles his newspaper. He uses paper too. “Welcome back.”

“Where are we?” Mateo asks. He sounds panicked.

“Don’t worry. You’ve not missed Grand Junction yet,” Duke answers in a very comforting voice. It even makes me feel better about possibly sitting in a death tube. “You can go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up.”

“No, I made a mistake. I meant Glenwood Springs. I’m supposed to go to Glenwood Springs!” His voice seems to wake other people in the car. A baby starts crying. Such a terrible mother bringing a baby to a death tube. Oh that’s right. This is not necessarily a death tube, and she does not necessarily—I mean, probably does not—work for Horace Reaver.

“Oh, well you’ve missed that. But it’s okay. You’re starting a new life. Does it matter where? You won’t be that far off course either way.”

“What time is it?” Mateo gets up and desperately looks at his watch. “Oh my God. It’s almost midnight.”

“No, it’s eleven o’clock.”

“I mean a different midnight!” He’s right. It’s almost midnight central time. Maybe this is everything the train schedule manipulation has been leading to. Are we where Reaver wants us to be? Am I okay with that? If we’re not, will he blame me? I can handle myself. What I’m really worried about is him blaming his hacker, Micro. She has no clue what kind of guy Reaver is. She doesn’t know he’s a murderer. I need to get back to Kansas quickly, just in case. Or maybe I’ll call Brian and burn his cover. No, it’s too early. I have to stay in the shadows, but ya know, in a visible way.

The tablet Micro gave me beeps and the train comes to an abrupt a halt. That is definitely not a coincidence. We are where we need to be, which means we probably shouldn’t be here.

“We apologize once more,” says a different the voice on the intercom. “We’re not sure why the train stopped this time, but we are looking into the matter and will have you back on track in no time.”

“I have to get off!” Mateo screams. Yeah, we’re here. He’s scared of this place, wherever it is.

“You won’t be able to,” Duke says. “We’re on a bridge over the Colorado River.” That makes sense. Bridges are dangerous places for trains. Just ask any action movie. This is it. It’s time time to die. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath.

“I’m still on the upper level!” Mateo jumps up and tries to pull his bag from under the seat, but is unable to. He gives up on it and runs for the door, but doesn’t make it. At exactly midnight central, he disappears from sight. Some of the crowd screams while others shudder while others didn’t seem to be looking at him at that moment. Yeah, Mateo is most def a time traveler. I look over to Duke who clearly didn’t know that was going to happen, but isn’t all that shocked by it. He did say that he was a scientist of some kind.

Mateo’s bag. There might be incriminating evidence on it. I can’t let the authorities get there hands on it, but I don’t want Reaver to see it either. I can protect Mateo, even if I don’t really know why. I can keep this secret, if I decide to trust the only other person on this train with any interest in what happens. I sneak over while everyone’s freaked out about a man disappearing in thin air. I take my time and release the bag from its grip on the seat’s frame. I sidestep over to Duke and hand it to him. “This is his. Keep it safe.” My God, I sound like a spy on a park bench. “Tell no one about me.”

“Who are you?” Duke asks.

“Nobody.”

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