Train Paradise

With one eye open, the world was brown, drab, and gray. The stale air was musty and rank. The floor was dirty and uncleaned, littered with trash. Paint peeled from the walls and ceiling. The outside was little better, the street in need of repair with broken lights dangling from the ceiling like hanging corpses. The only people walking on it were all copy and pasted from the same slate with pale skin, hair, and clothes. Their mouths opened and closed, talking to thin air.

With a flick of a cool metal switch the other eye was opened, and the world changed. Colors suddenly graced the boring place. Grays and browns were suddenly painted in vibrant colors, bright and cheery advertisements calling down from every wall. The floor was painted white and clean, all trash and dirt gone in an instant. The walls of peeling paint were now imbued with colorful posters and moving images. The people walking the road weren’t wordlessly talking to the air, but to groups of people hovering about their heads.

The nose was opened next, the musty and rank air replaced with sweet scents. The smell of old trash was gone, and the air was fresh, not stale. The ears were opened last of all, and the quiet world became filled with sound. People on the street chatted away, jingles and slogans shouted down from the advertisements, moving posters proclaimed, music played, and far off in the distance the sound of wind and birds could be heard.

The view from both eyes, the dirty and the vibrant, overlapped and became one. Liam watched as the perfect and the broken lined up and became one reality, his reality.

Your shift starts in 20 minutes.

An animated sprite popped into existence and fluttered about his head, proudly displaying a countdown timer.

“Yeah, yeah,” waved Liam dismissively, shoving the timer out of his face.

The road crunched beneath his feet as he stepped on it, fresh lines of paint, clean and crisp, blurring with faded and cracked ones.

You have 17 new messages.

“Hit with me ‘em.”

Cole says that-

“Just the important stuff.”

Trans Cont. Management says that the new employee was approved last night, they should begin working soon.

“Just tell me about it morning of.”

Sure thing! Is there anything els-

“Nah,” said Liam, waving the animated character away, “that’ll be it.”

His feet continued forward along the street, pausing only on a concrete slab of a bridge spanning the city proper. Liam looked up and down at the buildings crammed one on top of the other. They sprawled out below the bridge and climbed the walls, even covering parts of the ceiling. On either side of the bridge was simply a void, a 200 story drop onto the streets below.

Your shift starts in 10 minutes.

“I told you, that’ll be it.”

Part of the street swerved off and clambered down a flight of stairs. Ads were even more prevalent down here, coating the walls with colorful posters and videos intermixed with political slogans. Trains whizzed by stirring the stagnant air into a frenzy. Liam’s uncombed hair whipped back and forth in the breeze of each passing metal snake. Their platforms were ghost-like and empty, waiting in anticipation of the coming morning rush.

Liam pushed through a side door marked for employees, his fingerprint serving as a key on the handle. The place was plain and undecorated, a blank white slate made solely for function. A white uniform proudly displaying the logo of Trans Continental Railways and a simple badge awaited him in a locker. He donned it and grabbed a cart brimming with a variety of cleaning supplies. His badge was swiped to clock in and an automated voice beeped.

You are 2 minutes late. Please do not repeat this error.

The station was practically pristine. Every light glowed down, cheery and bright. The white tiles were polished with hardly a piece of trash in sight. A recruitment ad for the Union military bellowed from the opposite wall. A diverse cast of people all dressed in the same crisp black uniform popped out of the poster smiling and proclaiming how the military changed their lives before all donning the same faceless helmet. Next to it a poster proclaimed propaganda for the current Union Imperator, his tanned regal features on full display as he stood proudly with his wife and two kids beneath which a bold caption blared “I support you, the everyman.”

Everything was too perfect, nothing even the slightest bit unclean. Liam sighed and put his hand to his right eye, flicking off the filters. Dirt, grime, and old stains became readily apparent. Trash materialized and lightbulbs fizzled out, but the advertisements remained. He turned it off completely, the posters fading as the right side of his vision went dark.

There were a series of cabinets built into the side of the wall opened with a swipe of Liam’s badge. With a grunt metallic janitors were hefted out of each one and their rusted bodies were set to work with the flick of a switch. They were pathetic, bumbling old buffoons that could only deal with the most basic layers of grime and the smallest pieces of trash, but it was a big station and their decades of service weren’t about to be abandoned yet.

Now playing “1984” by the Mushing Melons.

Liam got to work cleaning up the tough spots and sweeping up the larger chunks of trash as guitar riffs began humming in his ear. There were dozens of platforms, each filthy from the traffic of thousands. Bridges arched over double sets of tracks running in both directions in order to connect up platforms. Bathrooms were scattered periodically throughout and each was in its own state of utter disgust. Liam pulled a mask over his mouth before entering the lavatories, he cleaned them daily, but it was amazing how much filth could be amassed in 24 hours. Some punks had thought it funny to graffiti the stalls, forcing a trudge back to the supplies in the employees’ room for a can of paint.

People began to trickle into the station, steadily turning into a flood as rush hour hit. The pale skin, hair, and clothes turned them all into a homogenous blob rushing to and fro. The station was a major one, connected straight to a port, so it wasn’t long before foreigners began to cautiously make their way down. Their darker skin and colorful clothes stuck out hideously as they bumbled their way through the swarming crowds of people. Increasing music volume.

A light had fizzled out. Liam grabbed a spare bulb and pulled over a ladder.

“Hey mini-me, you taking inventory of this?”

With his right eye closed he couldn’t see the floating sprite but its voice spoke.

Sure thing! So far you have used-

“I don’t care, just upload a report when my shift ends.”

Sure thing!

A particularly clueless foreigner approached Liam, looking up at him as he pulled out the dead lightbulb.

“You-uh-work here?”

Increasing music volume.

“No! Shut it.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I work here.”

“Could you point me in the direction of the Marigold?”

“I’m the janitor.”

“But you live here, right?”

“Just ask your mini-me.”

“My what?”

“Well, you’re ****”

This is a public area, crude language is prohibited.

“There aren’t even any signs! How do you go anywhere?!”

“Uh, just go back up to the port and find an eye store.”

“An eye store?!”

“A place that sells these,” sighed Liam, tapping his right eye, “just buy a pair of glasses or something, they should be able to set up a mini-me there.”

The foreigner bumbled off and Liam popped in the new light. Lunch break came and went filled with the usual garbage designed to be as addictive as possible. White swarms of people came and went. Evening rush hour came, a white tide filling the station that slowly trickled out. Liam could feel each second slowly ticking by, and began incessantly checking the clock.

Your shift has ended.

The badge was swiped, cart put back, and metallic janitors shoved into their cabinets. The white uniform was shoved through a quick washer before being placed back in the locker with the badge. Liam exited the employees’ room and lastly opened up his right eye. The imperfections of the station faded and posters popped to life on the walls again, displaying all manner of products and sensations.

You have not met the exercise quota.

“Shut up, I’m tired.”

Under planetary law-

“Just remind me when I get home,” groaned Liam, defeated.

The trudge out of the station felt twice as long as the walk there in the morning.

You’re receiving a call from Bob.

“Answer it I guess.”

“Yo man!” a man with bright green skin and rippling muscles appeared floating in front of Liam.

“Are those wings?”

“Yea man!” said Bob, twirling to show off the dragon wings protruding from his back.

“What sort of **** spends money on something that stupid?”

If you support free speech please support senator John Johnson by purchasing a full speech pass today.

“Dude! It’s awesome!”

“It’s gonna clip through every person you pass.”

“It’ll turn heads though!”

“You already bought the green skin!”

“Trust me man, it’ll catch on.”

Liam just shook his head.

“Yo Liam, you been to a Beyond Humanity yet?”

“Nah, you know I’m broke.”

“Dude, I’m goin’ to one this evening!”

“Nice.”

“I heard the new update’s absolutely insane!”

“I thought all they added was a bunch of heinous ****.”

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“Bro, that’s what life’s about man! I’m here to live, and that’s what I intend to do!”

“Not everyone’s got the cash for that sorta thing.”

“Man, you betta pull up sometime! Wait, I could just give you a call during!”

“That’s disgusting.”

“I am so hyped for this, I gotta have someone see my reaction! Imma blow some mad stacks on this, have the time of my life, someone better check me out!”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll go whenever I’m not in debt.”

“Alright man! Call me if you get around to it!”

“You’re hanging—”

Call ended.

“—up?”

Liam was left alone again, standing on the bridge. There were high fences on either side that arched over and stopped anyone from getting too close to the edge. He closed his right eye, cracks appeared and paint faded, and the fences were replaced by a line of flimsy yellow construction tape from some decades old project that was never even started. Graffiti couldn’t be seen at a train station bathroom connected to a port, but a safety railing could be left unbuilt less than 20 minutes away.

The edge was oddly inviting. There was no railing, no filters, it was all real, a sheer void. Down below a cleaning crew scraped something off the ground.

Liam pulled back from the edge and continued trudging home. It was quiet, the air stagnant without even a breeze to break the silence. It was late, the crowds and usual commuters were long gone. The occasional person would pass by Liam, but they were either quiet or talking to friends invisible without both eyes open. Liam opened his left eye, the walking pedestrians became colorful and interesting, surrounded by friends, he closed it again and they were plain and boring, talking to thin air.

Liam trudged up to his house and pushed open the door. It was a cardboard box surrounded by other cardboard boxes, part of the block housing that would just scrape by an inspection. It was practically an apartment, touching shoulder to shoulder with and sitting underneath several rows of identical homes, but still counted as a house and incurred all the fees that came with that. They were touted as the solution to a generation unable to afford their own homes and property, truly an ingenious scam. Liam’s was the base model, with just enough room for a bed, table, bathroom, and an open corner for tossing dirty laundry.

Your ghrelin levels indicate that you are hungry. Upgrade your blockhome from a model D to a model C today in order to gain access to a full kitchen!

“**** you, stop doing that every time I get home!”

If you support free speech please support senator John Johnson by purchasing a full speech pass today.

“**** John Johnson!”

If you support free speech please support senator John Johnson by purchasing a full speech pass today.