Wednesday at the Metro

[mods_in_space]

If New Tokyo was the glossy surface of Miranda and Siam the seedy underbelly, the Underground was the pulsing heart of the planet. A constant flow of trains, of people, of life, the Metro never slept. Sitting on one of the old benches lining the whitewashed walls, under a flat screen advertisement looping through ads for dermal implants and virtual

Comments

[drivingherpoet]

I am standing on the platform, huddled in my layers, and I don't have anywhere to go. I'm on a high, I'm on a roll, I'm thrumming in my fucking bones and the train goes ratta-tatta-tatta-tatta and my heart echoes ratta-tatta and I can't take this and, for the thousandth time, I can.

The Metro hums, and people flood all around me, waiting for the train, and I don't want them to touch me (don't touch me) but oh, God, God help me, I do.

[more_flexible]

Jack wandered onto the platform, just about on time. He didn't have any interest in standing around today. He needed to get to Siam. The assembled crowd moved fluidly, in and out and around one another and he spotted a woman who looked scattered somehow. A gang of street kids was coming toward her and Jack walked up behind her, just standing there, waiting for the train. Nothing unusual, and certainly no altruistic actions.

Even if it did get the streets to split and go around the sudden couple.

[drivingherpoet]

Through the haze, the daze, the snake coiled around my thighs under my dress, I'm suddenly aware of someone standing close to me. If I close my eyes and breath, he smells like Orpheus smelt, soap and skin and the dust that gets caught in clothes.

I turn and look at him and, just as I do, I realise that maybe I shouldn't have.

[more_flexible]

For someone who knew what to look for, there was a quality to Jack's eyes that spoke of a life lived longer than most. Of death, so much death, and acceptance. He smiled gently at the girl, studying her face for a moment.

People moved past them, parting and coming back together, turning and flowing like water. Jack was immovable, fixed, and he kept her in his shadow as the train pulled up to the platform.

"Time to go," he said quietly when she made no move to get on board.

[marked_rose]

Usually, Phedre wasn't sure where she looked more out of place - New Tokyo or Siam. Whereas she carried herself in a way that might imply good breeding, and her clothes generally looked expensive... they were also far more revealing than what most society women would even consider wearing. On the train, of course, it was hard to tell whether you were coming or going, and today Phedre looked more like she was coming from a PTA meeting in Tifton than from the Scarlett Room

[drivingherpoet]

I find myself staring at the cover of the book that the woman opposite me is reading. There's something about Angels which has always unnerved me...an unknown quantity, a sense of the dead not staying dead (and, God, when did the dead ever stay dead?), and unfinished business. A sense of righteousness and purity. A fear of falling.

I shouldn't stare, but I do.
Being bitten makes it easier to forget how you're supposed to behave.

[marked_rose]

Phedre caught sight of the woman looking at her book, and smiled warmly. "Lovely, isn't it?" she said, holding the cover at a better angle. "Apparently there were ten of them lining a bridge in an ancient city called Rome."

[drivingherpoet]

I pull my coat closed at the throat and try not to look as though I taste something bad.

"I don't like them. They look like they're...you know...up to something."

Sometimes, I speak and it feels like I haven't spoken in an age.

[its_all_numb3rs]

Charlie loves the underground. It's the only time he can be surrounded by people and not feel like an outsider looking in.

He knows all the right times to travel, which trains are the most reliable and which have a tendency to break down or run slow. Charlie has it all memorized, and if he could ever get himself out of his office at a normal hour, he could have his commute perfected.

With his headphones on, he stares at the advertisements as they flash at him, reading the slogans and watching the frighteningly happy people try and sell him things he'll never use. Though he is thinking about getting a new com-unit sometime soon...

The train lurches to a stop and Charlie slides a little on the hard plastic seat, bumping hard into the person next to him.

"Sorry," he says quickly. "Really, sorry."

[enabler_md]

Wilson wasn't paying attention and the body suddenly against him roused him from the daily news he'd been reading. He looked up blankly, then nodded and offered a weak smile. "No problem. No harm done," he said softly, shifting over a little.

[its_all_numb3rs]

With his headphones on, Charlie had only seen the week smile and mouthed words, and he slipped the small speakers from his ears with an apologetic look. "You'd think with all the technological advances in transportation, we'd have finally developed a train that doesn't cause motion sickness and the potential threat of being thrown through the door as it jerks to a stop. Sometimes I wonder the board of public transportation just doesn't believe in physics."

[enabler_md]

"It's actually a medical conspiracy. The more injuries on the Underground, the more likely I am to make my alimony," Wilson replied, folding his paper up. "Dr. James Wilson," he added, laying his hand on his chest. "That's me."

[nobler_things]

Life hasn't been going so hot for ol' Spike. Deals are drying up left and right, his last fell through all together, and the money's drained down to nothing. Just a few credits for blood and bourbon and smokes. Fuel for Bessy? Well, that landed on the bottom of the list.

The Metro... Torture. All those bodies. All that warmth, trapped underground. All those heartbeats. So close.

Spike stood in the third car on the D train, hand wrapped tight around a support strap. Feet spaced apart and his coat flapping behind him. Nostrils flaring. Muscles in his jaw twitching.

Oh God. Just two more stops.

[maintain_right]

"If you're suffering from motion sickness, I find a bit of mint settles the stomach," said Fraser, holding a stick under his nose.

[nobler_things]

Spike turned, just his head, slowly in the direction of the voice.

Oh, great.

"Gonna need a bit more than mint, mate," he muttered with a nasty curl of lips, black tipped nails cutting into the handle strap above his head.

He looked pale, but then again, he always did.

[maintain_right]

"Ah." Fraser withdrew the pack, only to hold out another, this one purple. "I have berry, also."

[laurie_wilson]

Laurie's not drunk anymore, just nursing one hell of a hangover. He'd taken a few pills that morning, vitamins mostly, and then he'd smoked a joint. Anything to get his head to stop pounding like it was.

He can't even remember how many aspirins he'd taken before breakfast or lunch. That's never a good sign.

He stares vapidly at the dirty floor of the train, focusing intently on an old wad of gum. So much so that he doesn't notice his mobile com unit beeping loudly in his pocket.

[feelbad_md]

BEEP. BEEP. BEEEEEP. BEEPEPEPEPEPEPEPEPEEEEEEP.

House, who was sitting to Laurie's left, only one empty seat between them, with his forehead resting tiredly on the top of his cane, suddenly jerked his head up and snapped, "Are you deaf or just determined to drive the rest of us insane?"

[laurie_wilson]

Laurie snapped out of it slowly, staring at the guy for a long moment, as if he'd just said something really deep and meaningful... until he realized he was beeping.

"Fuck," he muttered, pulling the damn electronic device and looking at it for a long moment.

It was has sponsor. It was always his god-damn...

Laurie threw the com device to the floor, right atop the dried up wad of gum, actually, and then stomped on it with his heavy leather boot until it shut up. Never to beep again.

"That better?" he asked the stranger calmly.

[feelbad_md]

House lifted an eyebrow. "I am," he said. "You, on the other hand, have obviously got some issues."

He reached out his cane and pushed the remnants of the beeper underneath the row of seats so that no one - okay, him - tripped on the rubble. He narrowly avoided the gum.