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Those Who Ride
by
Jonathan J. Sample
Selenia's toes wriggled and sharply
folded back towards her feet, scratching the insoles of her slippers
along the way. Every evening the cacophony screaming from the
metallic friction of the incoming homebound-tram triggered this
reaction. Her slippers were far from grateful and would, if they
could, emote in a fashion similar to her face which displayed
tremendous discomfort at the noise.
Her eyes opened from their tight
squint and gazed up at the softly glowing sign above the nearest rail
car's side door. “Laurel Manor via Sharpton Hall” it read. She
mentally cursed the indirectness of the subterranean lines and
departed the dim of the empty platform. Her hand went out for the
nearest vertical bar inside the car's open doorway, wrapped, every
few inches or so in frustratingly tacky tape. Hauling herself in, her
eyes drooping with the fatigue that meets each worker at day's end,
she quickly shuffled herself over to the nearby beverage machine and
punched up a concoction which would surely set her to right until she
could crash into her pillowy nest at home.
A long and slender can crashed down
into the hulking machine's scratched, silvery escape hatch. Selenia
reached down for it, adjusting her shoulder bag as she did so,
realizing then that the can was not actually the one she initially
requested. Damn, she thought, and let the arm which bore the
incorrect beverage droop down to her side. Finally she looked up into
the rest of the tram car to see who would be accompanying her on
today's end of the day commute. The frustration from the beverage
incident carried over to pick up the slack for the reaction to what
her eyes now saw.
Unfortunately this evening the tram
staff saw fit to remove all but one of the side benches, excusing
their inconsiderate action with a hastily scribbled sign which read,
“Apologies. Use top rail for support if seating is unavailable.
Thank you, from the Cor-Eidolon City Tram Support Staff.”
She let escape a sigh-grunt amalgam
and studied the only bench in the nearly empty car. Upon it sat two
familiar yet incredibly exasperating characters. To one side was a
hirsute gal Selenia and other passengers had come to call the
Fastidious Frump. The Frump sat on a side of the bench which
struggled to hold her bulk. Her hair was matted down all over her
body except for a defiant strand or two of head hair. She stared
forward with a wide-eyed gaze and a tight, forced smile. A clumsily
arranged tie hung about her neck and upon her lap sat a briefcase
which was fooling no one. The briefcase belonged to a certain
practitioner of the medicinal arts, a Mr. Harvey McWetter MD
according to its label. Surely this McWetter fellow, the more than
obvious previous owner, was someone of high societal standing and
great importance. Clearly different from the Frump who could be seen,
by day, aimlessly wandering the streets at the heart of the Cor,
gazing up at the monoliths of purpose, and basking in the energy of
the most important place in the whole of their world. She now hummed,
tight-smiling and clutching the briefcase with her long-nailed hands.
To the Frump's right, across a small
space which Selenia painfully realized was the only available seat
left in the car, hunched a curious-looking fellow who was wearing a
stupefied expression. His dress was clean and casual. A silken,
deep-red scarf hung from around his neck, resting on the lapel of a
flawless deep-blue overcoat. His head was a pulsing, ashy ember. This
was a typical feature of his kind, one of the most important peoples
of the city. His title, which he only offered to those who could
manage to coax a word or two from him, was Mr. Ash. His mouth hung
agape, revealing dozens of diamond, baby-sized teeth. He, too, was
staring forward but with eyes which, when visible in the calm of his
mental ember, seemed to scream panic.
Selenia made her way cautiously over
to the two oddities, her skirt swaying in the gust which coursed
through the car as the doors hissed shut. The tram began to jerk
towards movement and she stared now at the two folks possessing the
majority of the sole bench. She gestured with a bobbing head and
inquiring brown eyes towards what she hoped would be her resting
place for the journey home. Her mouth was obscured by the can which
she held up to her face, playing at the its tab with her teeth as she
tired of waiting for the vacant expressions to glance her way and
provide the courtesy of a seat offering.
Mr. Ash shuffled his gloved fingers
between and around each other while continuing his stressed gaze
forward. His mouth closed and then opened again. He didn't pay her
any mind nor offer her any invitation. As usual he was wordless.
“Go ahead. There's room,” blurted
the Frump who shifted her glassy, golden eyes up to look into
Selenia's soft, brown orbs. “Plenty of room here, dear, dear. Take
it.”
Selenia bowed a thank you towards
both, continuing her teeth-play of the can tab, and swung her
backside round to squeeze between the two seated figures. Each of
them adjusted, Mr. Ash soundlessly as the Frump let slip a surprised
grunt. “Sorry,” apologized Selenia.
“Nothing bothering, dear. All's
well,” responded Frump. “Quite.”
Orange lights shifted past the car's
windows, slowly at first but then streaking as the tram picked up its
speed. The whole of the car in which the trio sat shook its usual
shake, rocking back and forth as it was whisked along with the rest
of the long-linked, snaking transport. The bright, sterile glow of
the faint-blue car lights caused everything within to take on an
intense focus while the darkness of the tunnel without became even
more overwhelming. A speaker above the three attempted for a few
seconds to entertain them with a particle of instrumentals. They
looked up in unison as a crackle came on the line and faded away into
nothing. It hadn't done that in a while, thought Selenia. This caused
her to notice the severe disrepair in which the tram car existed. It
was patched up and bandaged like a persistent prize-fighter who just
wouldn't go down in spite of reason and a dozen or more broken, vital
bits.
The Frump's clanky, nailed hands
shifted their grip on the briefcase of Dr. McWetter as she attempted
to turn her bulk slightly to face Selenia who only felt her tight
space become more so as a result. The Frump had no neck so torso
motion was the only way for her inefficient make up to allow her head
to get a decent look around. She strained to make eye contact with
the mostly squished Selenia, “How was your day in the city, dear,
dear?”
“More of the same. Deliveries,
deliveries, and, when the time calls for it, more deliveries. It's a
living.”
“It would have to be,” replied the
Frump who readjusted to face forward, much to Selenia's relief.
“We're fortunate to hold such wonderful work spots in so lovely a
city, no?”
Selenia chuckled nervously and
fingered the top of her now open beverage cannister. “Sure thing,
Frump. Lucky workers, us.”
“I had a marvelous day flitting
about my extremely busy schedule,” continued the Frump. “So many
tasks to complete and so many places to visit, you know. It's lovely
to have such purpose, really.”
“Mm-hm!” Selenia responded with a
friendly, feminine crescendo. She wondered what it was the Frump was
referring to and if she should break it to the Frump that she was
aware of how little Frump actually did while in the city. In fact she
wondered where the Frump was heading now. Home? A new place to wander
until the next day? What a mystery is the Frump, she thought while
transitioning her focus to a light, slow hum she decided to begin.
“What's the point of any of it?”
Mr. Ash groaned inquiringly, much to the incredible surprise of
Selenia and the Frump.
“Whatever do you mean?” huffed the
Frump as she kept the briefcase from slipping off her lap. “The
city runs and living continues. You better than anybody knows that,
Mr. Ash, sir! Where's your pride, huh?”
Selenia let her eyes slip to their
right corners. Her gaze fell upon the now drooping head of Mr. Ash
who shook it from side to side, quickly blinking his eyes. “Are you
all right, Mr. Ash?”
“I got a glimpse of something today
and lost all hope because of it. We, all of us, are now in the doomed
business of holding back degradation. We're all units busying
ourselves with futilities. Haven't you noticed?”
At this Mr. Ash shifted his head to
view Selenia's curious face. She locked eyes with the fellow as his
glow died down and the intensity of his worried look pierced her. In
spite of his radiating warmth she felt a ghastly chill. What was it
he'd seen from his lofty vantage point? What had he noticed that she
and others neglected, she wondered.
“It's all for naught, you see,”
Mr. Ash moaned. “If you doubt me look up tonight as you make your
way home. That's not majesty. It's pure rot and utter failure. ”
“Now that's quite enough, Mr. Ash!”
bellowed the Frump. “You are a foul and faithless being, you!
Obviously you can't see the good and meaningful work our society
does. We're maintaining and doing a powerful job at it. We're blessed
to be here doing what we do. Blessed!”
At the screech which ended the Frump's
reply to Mr. Ash Selenia felt her toes repeating their initial
response to the halting tram. She looked from side to side nervously
at the two beings which flanked her and felt the huffy rise and fall
of the Frump's breathing. Mr. Ash stared downward and made soft
sobbing sounds. She couldn't help but feel an overwhelming fear and
an insane panic rise up from deep within. Her hand suddenly shot up
and yanked the signal line which ran along the top of the car's
windows. An audible ding rung off the metal interior of the car and
startled the Frump.
“What? What's the matter?” the
Frump implored of the panicking Selenia. “Don't let this fool get
at you. He just doesn't appreciate or understand anything. Everything
is fine! You're fine!”
Selenia popped out of between her
emotional neighbors and made a break for the car door as the tram
eased off its speed to cruise into the nearest stop. Mr. Ash didn't
pay her any mind as he continued his mourning, facing floorward. The
Frump just huffed and anxiously looked from the fleeing girl to the
pathetic Mr. Ash scowling at the latter. Selenia hastily squeezed out
of the slowly opening door, dropping her half-full can which poured
its remaining contents all over the litter-cluttered tram floor.
“Well, fine, stupid girl,” growled
the Frump as she folded her arms and let Dr. McWetter's briefcase
fall to the soiled car floor. “Listen to this nitwit! I don't care!
No pride or sense in anyone these days! Forget you! The whole stupid
lot of you!”
Mr. Ash folded over and continued to
sob. His surrender was now completely apparent in that it was more
than confessed, it was displayed.
Selenia quickly made the surface in a
brief moment of flight. Her breath struggled to right itself as she
leaned against the railing. She couldn't help but look up. There it
was, she realized. The grand flaw. Mr. Ash was right. There was
nothing marvelous or beautiful about it. It was a tragic, nightmarish
end creeping across the dome of reality. She fell to her knees
sobbing uncontrollably.
Somewhere far beyond the realm of
Cor-Eidolon on a plane of existence apart from the seeminlgy
ill-fated city, in fact, a place external to the realm itself, a
sickly figure felt sudden, powerful despair course through its form
as signals of pain radiated through its limbs. Hopelessness was all
that it now knew as it lay slightly inclined upon a hospital bed.
Death soon, it thought. No matter. It then shuddered for what was to
be the last time.
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