next stop wonderland.
You are on the Train.
To some of its passengers, the interior of the Train seems a bit arcane (with its swinging oil lamps and wood carved walls and is that the smell of coal burning?); to others, the prospect of high-speed transportation is still novel or even a bit frightening. The Train starts underground, much like subway, but at the edges of the city emerges to coast through suburbs and then farther, into the country. Where you get off is your decision, if you get off at all. No one's ever ridden the Train all the way to the last stop. Rumor has it there is none, that it just keeps going and going and going in a huge, twisted loop.
Bench seating in third class, sectioned rooms in second and first class riders get their own little bunks. The fourth car from the front is the dining car and, every other other hour an elderly woman with a wart on her nose pushes a small sweets trolley from one end of the train to the other.
Maybe you are simply riding to school. Maybe this is your new daily commute because the normal lines have all been delayed. Maybe you are on a long journey home. Maybe you are running from something.
The Train does not care; it will take you wherever you need to go.