The Train has Stopped
Rumors fluttered rapidly down the length of the train and back again in reflected sine waves as imaginations wrapped around the problem now being faced. The train is stopped -- this was the only known value. Variables were all that remained: what or who had stopped it? why? where was the train? Was it a broken dynamo worn out but uninspected by lazy train yard laborers? Was this a heist perpetrated by cut-throats waiting to ravish the women? Was the coal so frozen that it could not be thawed for fuel? Could it be Gremlins, long thought to have been eradicated through prodigious use of DDT and harsh campaigns of brutal slaughter, hatched up here in the barren wilderness waiting for the day they could exact revenge. The train personnel were no more in the know than hapless passengers but felt the need to extol the virtues of calm keeping and head leveling.
Outside was darkness punctuated only by falling specks of snow reflecting the weak light escaping the train windows. It happens with the design of trains that no one can really see where they are going, only what they are passing. Often, passengers are comforted by the serene absence of city-scape, a zen-like feeling settles the soul as they pass through a flat parcel of land for a second and onto another different, but equally flat and worthless, parcel. But now, with the sudden termination of momentum, it seems that the comfort gleaned from looking out the windows at an open country-side bereft of ballyhoo has descended into panic. No one wants to stay in the wilds of Canadian hinterland for anything longer than a bemused half second, now they'd been here going on an hour with no answer inside the train and the only answer outside was a constant, relentless and, above all, smug, snowfall.
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"Look here! We can't turn into a riotous mob. Cooler heads must and will prevail if we are to extricate ourselves from this unpleasantness!" A tall carefully mustachioed man in a tasseled red band leader uniform announced, turning slowly so as to address everyone.
"We all agree on that much, you've made no proposition." Indeed, everyone had met in the dining car to decide exactly what the plan would be now that the train seemed marooned in a permanent night with no timetable or map.
"Well, a council should be set up... those with some background with authority, teachers, the engineer, maestros... leaders should convene and make some decisions."
"Elitism! You only call for a council like that so you can be on it. We should vote!"
"The hell with that, we should throw the train in reverse and get the hell out of here. Who knows what those vagabonds have in mind?! We'd be idiots to stay here."
At this point the Engineer stood and addressed the sweaty mass crowded into the dining car, "We don't have enough fuel to get back to any civilized areas to the south, our only bet is to conserve resources and hope we can continue on our scheduled journey soon. Till then we need some sort of operational agreement. As engineer, I know the ins and outs of this vessel better than any. I can ration our food and keep an eye on the situation better than any. I'll make the calls, here."
A few passengers traded suspicious looks and one in a bowler hat cautiously put forward what a few had been whispering in the rear of the car. "How do we even know that there is any real trouble at all? You could be making all of this up as a power grab for all we know." A few other passengers then noted that uniformed porters were posted by the doors and several were very close to the engineer, perhaps signaling each other in secret code and waiting for the order to initiate martial law.
The Engineer continued, "What sort of power grab would this be? Who wants to be despot of a stranded train in the middle of a six year long winter? I only propose that I'm the only one who has been able to see what we're up against, I know the workings of this contraption. It only makes sense."
The crowd, as an organism, didn't seem to like his logic... now, logic seemed only to serve the needs of a power-hungry madman who may well have been responsible for stopping them in this hell hole.
Right now, Phenson kept quiet near the rear of the car and watched. There was going to be disorder, a few would probably die before anything got sorted out... right now was not the time to be a leader of anything. Right now was a good time to look out the window occasionally. Towards the end of the meeting, which ended badly, Phenson could swear he saw something move far away past the smug snow, past the drifts and past the hillocks, past the field of vision but just short of imperceptible.
Outside was darkness punctuated only by falling specks of snow reflecting the weak light escaping the train windows. It happens with the design of trains that no one can really see where they are going, only what they are passing. Often, passengers are comforted by the serene absence of city-scape, a zen-like feeling settles the soul as they pass through a flat parcel of land for a second and onto another different, but equally flat and worthless, parcel. But now, with the sudden termination of momentum, it seems that the comfort gleaned from looking out the windows at an open country-side bereft of ballyhoo has descended into panic. No one wants to stay in the wilds of Canadian hinterland for anything longer than a bemused half second, now they'd been here going on an hour with no answer inside the train and the only answer outside was a constant, relentless and, above all, smug, snowfall.
_______________________________________________________________________
"Look here! We can't turn into a riotous mob. Cooler heads must and will prevail if we are to extricate ourselves from this unpleasantness!" A tall carefully mustachioed man in a tasseled red band leader uniform announced, turning slowly so as to address everyone.
"We all agree on that much, you've made no proposition." Indeed, everyone had met in the dining car to decide exactly what the plan would be now that the train seemed marooned in a permanent night with no timetable or map.
"Well, a council should be set up... those with some background with authority, teachers, the engineer, maestros... leaders should convene and make some decisions."
"Elitism! You only call for a council like that so you can be on it. We should vote!"
"The hell with that, we should throw the train in reverse and get the hell out of here. Who knows what those vagabonds have in mind?! We'd be idiots to stay here."
At this point the Engineer stood and addressed the sweaty mass crowded into the dining car, "We don't have enough fuel to get back to any civilized areas to the south, our only bet is to conserve resources and hope we can continue on our scheduled journey soon. Till then we need some sort of operational agreement. As engineer, I know the ins and outs of this vessel better than any. I can ration our food and keep an eye on the situation better than any. I'll make the calls, here."
A few passengers traded suspicious looks and one in a bowler hat cautiously put forward what a few had been whispering in the rear of the car. "How do we even know that there is any real trouble at all? You could be making all of this up as a power grab for all we know." A few other passengers then noted that uniformed porters were posted by the doors and several were very close to the engineer, perhaps signaling each other in secret code and waiting for the order to initiate martial law.
The Engineer continued, "What sort of power grab would this be? Who wants to be despot of a stranded train in the middle of a six year long winter? I only propose that I'm the only one who has been able to see what we're up against, I know the workings of this contraption. It only makes sense."
The crowd, as an organism, didn't seem to like his logic... now, logic seemed only to serve the needs of a power-hungry madman who may well have been responsible for stopping them in this hell hole.
Right now, Phenson kept quiet near the rear of the car and watched. There was going to be disorder, a few would probably die before anything got sorted out... right now was not the time to be a leader of anything. Right now was a good time to look out the window occasionally. Towards the end of the meeting, which ended badly, Phenson could swear he saw something move far away past the smug snow, past the drifts and past the hillocks, past the field of vision but just short of imperceptible.