The aboveboard train wasn’t running today, so she opted to take an alternate route. She ventured deep underground, stepping across the lengthy stairs slanting downwards in a sloped manner that were blinking with half-finished advertisements, leaving the contents of the saleable products maddeningly unknown.
“HAVE SOME DELICIOUS IS SO TASTY! GO ENJOY EAT IN THE AND DRINK NOW AT AVAILABLE EVERYWHERE.”
Each step was short but the distance of a floor, and going over these horizontal electronic billboards without missing the next step was difficult, given the distracting visuals. They were a welcome distraction from the uncomfortable presence of the one-armed Homeless Man squatting in the middle, not impeding anyone’s path but still getting in everybody’s way. She didn’t want to think of those times out on the streets, and averted her gaze along with everyone else. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to recognize her, and treated her like any other rider trying to get to Point B.
The overhead announcement blared, “Listen up and listen good! I’m not going to repeat this twice! The trains will come when they’re good and ready! Your lives are determined by the whims of our drivers! No drinking, no eating, and only one trip to the bathroom! Have a nice ride.”
Figuring out the proper path took a lot of trial and error before she figured out the best way. There were multiple ways to get to work underground, and she made it a point to take the shortest possible route.
She made her way to the platform, squeezing her way in among the rest of the crowded people who were all going their prospective ways. What she most hated about taking this route was how uncomfortable the whole process was. She would’ve preferred to beat the rush by racing ahead of everyone and finding an elusive spot to rest while she ventured through the tunnels. But it seemed like everybody else had the same idea, and ALL sought the very same seat she wanted.
Sure, there were other seats, but the layout of the chamber was sadistically designed so that only a select few chairs were comfortable enough to sit in that didn’t have stiff backrests, no neck support, were near bright lights or under low ceilings that banged your head at every intersection. There was not the slightest pretense of comfort available. Whoever planned this obviously never rode a transport platform before. It was more of a torture chamber for mass transit than anything else.
Still, there were ways to make the trip less unpleasant. She waited until nearly everybody got on, then pressed her body against the doors that were welded shut. There was a method to this madness. The Girl planned her getaway route ahead of time, choosing a specific car that would stop at a certain spot, so that when the underground chute stopped, she’d be precariously positioned right next to the exit. That way, when she disembarked, she would be right in front of the platform of the next train headed towards her destination.
Getting in the train car late carried the risk of not being stuffed inside, but it also meant you were closer to the doors upon the next exit. The riders were normally supposed to step back behind the line, but no one ever paid attention, being more focused in getting in than letting passengers out. Usually, she had to beat the rush because the upcoming car always left before she could make it, but today, she caught it! Upon leaving, she raced ahead to the Building, feeling confident that she might make it on time for a change.
She was so focused on her goal that she missed the drama that took place behind her. The Conductor was forcibly dragged from his station and held to the ground by more Policemen than was necessary. It turned out this wasn’t the normal Conductor, but an imposter who had a vivid interest in underground trains and memorized the layouts and routes for maximum efficiency. He noticed that the underground trains often left and arrived just as people were leaving, and this system could be modified to better use.
His only crime was not graduating from the training school, since he couldn’t sit properly, despite knowing the material better than anyone else. He knew what every lever and button did, but couldn’t call them by their proper names. He intuitively understood the mechanics of what made an underground train work, but couldn’t explain how.
All the Authorities felt that his competency was a mask for causing untold future mischief. This was the fifth time he’d stolen a Conductor’s identify (to their knowledge) and the jail time he’d done hadn’t dampened his obsession at all.
The general consensus was that the Authorities were more embarrassed that someone outside the system was better at the job than any of the hired people. It meant that they could be easily replaced by someone who actually liked their menial job, and that couldn’t possibly be. What was so great about underground trains anyways? They did what was expected of them.
Even with the False Conductor’s help, the Girl still wound up being five minutes late.
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