A Place Called Nowhere
Chapter 3: The Babylon Express
A streetlamp hummed at the bottom of the sea. The bulb burned white, but through the murky water, it cast a faintly green hue. Bits of sediment drifted down, catching the light like a flurry of white snow. Lucy and Matt huddled together on a bench in the lamplight. Matt was asleep, snoring on Lucy’s shoulder. She kept an anxious eye out for anything that might come for them in the dark, but she could see nothing past the sand immediately surrounding the bench. A veil shrouded them, but a tell-tale ripple in the water told her that there were indeed hungry eyes upon them. She clung tightly to the bench, the water made her feel so weightless.
Her tired eyes searched for anything to rest on, but the dark was impenetrable. She caught the glint of the light off of the railroad tracks before her. It was the only indication that the tracks were still there at all, and hadn't simply vanished when she couldn't see. Lucy wondered to herself when the train was supposed to arrive, or if it would even arrive at all. It had to. The path led her here for a reason, and she doubted that reason was to be devoured at the bottom of the sea.
There were whispers all around her. They'd been there since the two of them sat down. She tried to pay them no mind but they grew sharper and more aggressive the longer they waited. There was movement in the water. Lucy felt it push her hair and jostle her coat. The monsters were getting impatient.
The lamp flickered and went off. For a moment, darkness. The whispers went silent. Lucy held her breath. The light snapped on. A sigh of relief. The whispers continued.
They were safe as long as the light remained on. That’s what the ticket man said when she came to this place, hearing rumors of a settlement on a perpetual train. This is how everyone got on, apparently. But, Lucy had no confidence that the light would last long enough for the train to get here. Maybe that was the point, to scare them into giving up. Maybe that’s how the conductor of the train weeded out the weak.
Matt stirred next to her. He’d been sleeping for a while. He picked his head up and rubbed his eyes.
“How long have I been sleeping,” he asked.
“Who knows,” Lucy said.
“No sign of the train?”
“No.”
He glanced around him. Studied the complete darkness. Listened to the whispers. Felt the ripples in the water as the creatures danced excitedly around them.
“Do you think they lied to us,” asked Matt, with a yawn.
“How should I know,” answered Lucy.
“We’re way too trusting, I think. Why did we even come here, anyways?”
“The Path took us here.”
“Oh of course, the Path. How could I forget?” Matt rolled his eyes.
“I think I’m supposed to speak to the conductor. He built the train. Maybe finding out how he did it can shed some light on how this world works.”
“And what will that do for us?”
Lucy paused.
“It’s a lead, at least,” she said, finally.
The light flickered again, but didn’t go out this time. Lucy noticed the glint on the tracks didn’t match the flickering of the light, but simply stayed steady, as if reflecting some unseen stagelight from high above. She looked up at the lamp. Listened to the incessant electric hum. Her hair swirled above in black strands around the light, carried by the currents. For a second, Lucy forgot which way was up and down. She thought she was staring down into the piercing gaze of that crow again, falling through a black void towards its gaping maw. She closed her eyes.
Suddenly, a rumble rose up around them. A light shone distantly in the darkness. For a split second, the twisted faces of the monsters around them were illuminated. Dozens of sets of jagged teeth and blank soulless eyes. They scattered into the darkness.
A large steam train pulled up before them, sending powerful ripples through the water that pushed them both harder into their seats. The giant, lumbering metal cars passed swiftly before their eyes. They slowed as the wheels screeched to a halt. It was an old fashioned looking steam train. Its cars were painted in rich greens, blues, and coppers that had once been vibrant, but in the feeble light shining through the cloudy water, had turned muted and sickly. The construction of the cars nicely framed the windows, which were pleasantly lit and gave an inviting warmth. Lucy and Matt rose from their bench and bounced their way to the car, letting the water carry them up the steps. Lucy pushed the door open and walked in.
The water was warmer inside the car. The murkiness was gone in favor of the more pleasant clarity akin to spring water. The car was filled with the chatter of passengers all in rows of seats. Candles flickered in their golden holders between the windows and colored the water with a warm glow. Lucy and Matt walked through the center aisle looking for a seat, but all of them were full of laughing, happy people who paid them no mind.
The train lurched forward again, causing Lucy and Matt to brace themselves on one of the seats. Lucy whispered an apology to the man sitting in the seat. He gave a slight grumble at the disturbance, but otherwise ignored them, resuming his conversation. A moment later he let out a booming laughter that startled Lucy. The room suddenly felt very claustrophobic to her. The infectious energy of the excited crowd entirely failed to capture Lucy, who mostly just felt anxious instead. She cautiously kept walking down the train, searching impatiently for an empty seat.
She came upon a seat with a sleeping couple. It seemed odd to her that anyone would be sleeping in a room this bright and loud. As she approached, however, she noticed an unsettling stillness to them. She leaned in to get a better look at the two, but recoiled in horror when she saw their faces. Their skin was ashy and shriveled, their eyes sunken and empty, their lips receded to reveal the blackened gums in their slack mouths. They were dead, and had been for some time.
Lucy looked frantically to the other passengers, all of whom were going about their business as if nothing was out of place. Nobody seemed to notice the bodies. If they did, they certainly didn’t care.
Matt stopped behind her and said simply, “oh shit.” He looked up at her. “What do you think happened to them?” He sounded more curious than shocked or concerned.
“I don’t know,” said Lucy, gazing into their hollow eyes.
“Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry about this.” An attendant came up to them from the aisle, pushing a cart full of refreshments. It had the head of a fish, pointing straight up, its foggy eyes staring blankly into nothing in particular. Its voice was friendly, but Lucy couldn’t make out any expression on its face. It swam over to them and took the bodies from their seats. “I’ll take care of these. You two get comfy.”
It carried the bodies to the door of the train car and went out. Lucy and Matt looked at each other uneasily, then slid into the now vacant seats. A moment later, Lucy saw the bodies tumble out into the darkness through her window.
The attendant swam back to them.“Again, my sincere apologies for the inconvenience. Someone must have forgotten to clear the seats before you arrived.”
“It’s alright,” said Lucy, avoiding the cloudy eyes of the attendant. She held herself to keep her chills from being too obvious.
“Oh good. Can I get either of you anything from the cart, then?”
“No, I’m-”
“Yeah, do you have any ginger ale?” Matt asked.
The attendant grabbed a glass bottle from inside the cart and handed it to him.
“Thanks.”
“Let me know if you need anything else. Oh, and, by the way, we’re serving dinner in the car up ahead at 7 o’clock, if you get hungry!”
“What time is it now?” Lucy asked.
“How should I know? Just listen for the dinner bell.”
It swam away. Matt opened the bottle and took a sip as Lucy settled into her seat and looked out the window.
“How’s it taste?” she asked him.
“Like seawater,” said Matt, turning the bottle over and letting the liquid dissipate in the water around them.
Behind them, that man from earlier let out another booming laugh that shook Lucy.
“You’re killing me, Maggie!” He said. “Your boy sounds like quite a character.”
“Oh believe me, that’s not the half of it!” said an old woman sitting across from him. “I really can’t wait to see him again. Perhaps I’ll pay him a visit when I return home from this trip.”
The man laughed sadly. “Yeah. I tell you, as much as I miss home, I can’t wait to see my little girl again. I’m even excited to see her good-for-nothing husband. I missed them so much.”
Lucy frowned. What was this pantomime these two were doing? They had to know that the world was ending. They’re loved ones are gone and they were talking about them like they’re just one train ride away. This is no ordinary train. They were expected to remain here forever, or else face the danger of the wastes. That’s why they were all here, so why pretend otherwise? Lucy found herself becoming disgusted with the two. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore them. The gentle swaying of the warm water soothed her, and she fell asleep with her head against the window.
No dreams.
Nothing.
Fields of white ash passing by in a blur.
No sun or moon or stars above.
Carried forward by some inexplicable force.
No destination.
Only desire.
An unnamable, indescribable need.
Gnawing.
Consuming.
Nowhere to go.
Nothing.
The ringing of a bell awoke Lucy. She sat up and rubbed her eyes as she heard the hustle and bustle of people getting out of their seats and leaving the car.
“The dinner bell,” she whispered.
“Sounds like it,” said Matt, chin resting in his hand watching the others squeeze through the aisle.
Lucy was reluctant to leave her seat, but she couldn’t remember the last time she ate, and she didn’t know when she would get a chance to eat again.
“You hungry?” she asked.
“I’m always hungry,” Matt said.
The diner car was bustling with yet more eager passengers. Lucy and Matt sat at a table in the middle of it all. Conversations abounded around them from people sharing stories of where they came from and where they’re going. Sharing pleasant anecdotes of places that no longer existed. Memories fractured and lost everywhere except here. This little pocket of sanity where things could feel normal again, for a little while. They would never get off this train, because there’s nothing else out there. The train was always here. It will always be here. Until the flimsy foundations of its existence crumble and it too falls into nothing. A dining car full of happy, doomed little travelers.
Lucy shuffled in her seat. She hated waiting. It was her least favorite part of living in a settlement.
A passenger at the end of the car caught Lucy’s eye. A girl about Lucy's age, if a little taller. She was glancing around the cabin, probably looking for a place to sit. She had a bubbly, upbeat air to her as she danced through the narrow gaps between the tables. She seemed to study the other passengers, as if looking for something among the cheery faces. Her eyes met Lucy’s. She smiled. Lucy turned her gaze to focus on a stain on the tablecloth. The girl bounded to their table, floating over the other passengers. Her foot crashed into the plate of a man sitting just behind Lucy, splattering his food all over himself and everyone else at the table. He shouted but the girl ignored him as she jumped into the seat next to Lucy, kicking the chair back as she floated down. Her leg got caught on the tablecloth, knocking the candle, plates, glasses, utensils, and so forth onto the floor. The whole car went silent to look at the scene, before resuming their meals a moment later. The girl beamed at them, unbothered by the attention she just stirred.
"Hey, mind if I sit here? All the other tables are full," the girl said with a beaming smile and leaning in just a little too close. There were several tables around them with available seats. The girl radiated enthusiasm and her eyes flashed with so much recognition that Lucy wondered if she had known her from somewhere.
Lucy sighed and said, "sure, go ahead."
"Great." The girl pulled her chair in and leaned back. "I'm Deb, by the way."
"Hi Deb," Lucy said, hoping the resignation in her voice wasn't too obvious. “I’m Lucy.”
Deb kept her smile, which Lucy would insist was forced if not for the clearly very real excitement behind it. Her eyes darted between Lucy and Matt, as if she was waiting for Lucy to say something.
“Oh,” said Lucy, “this is Matt.”
“Hello,” said Matt with an awkward wave.
“Nice to meet you both,” said Deb, “mind if I ask how you know each other?”
“He’s my brother,” said Lucy.
“Interesting.” Deb leaned back and placed her hands together, resting them gently over her lips as she seemed to contemplate something. She eyed Matt up and down, assessing him.
“You have a problem with me or something?” Said Matt, agitated.
“Nope.” Deb said. She turned to Lucy. “So what are you doing on the Babylon Express?”
“Is that what this place is called?” Asked Lucy.
“That’s what I call it, anyway.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes, then relaxed them again. She was suspicious of this girl, but she was also far too tired to care at the moment.
"I'm here to speak with the conductor of this train." She said, with some reluctance.
"Oh really?" Deb said. "I'm here for the same reason! How fun! What were you hoping to ask him?"
"I guess to ask him how he built it." Lucy sighed. Why was she telling her this? "I think that'll give me some insight into how this world works."
"It really is such a marvellous construction, isn't it?" said Deb, "I want to get to the bottom of how this place works, too. It's something of a passion of mine."
"Really?" said Lucy.
"Oh yes. I spend a lot of time studying the peculiarities of this new world we find ourselves in."
"Studying how?"
"By running tests, of course."
"What kind of tests?"
"Well, for example, not too long ago I wanted to test the effects of time on inanimate objects. So, while in a settlement, I left an apple on a table for a while and it rotted like normal. Then I went outside the settlement and left another apple on a tree trunk. I watched it for weeks and nothing happened. I gave up and left the apple where it was but on a whim I decided to come back the next day. Do you know what happened to it?"
"What?" said Matt.
"It turned completely to ash."
"So what does that mean?" asked Lucy.
"Well, for one thing it means time passes differently outside of settlements."
"Well yeah, everybody knows that," said Matt.
"But more than that, I think it implies a certain subjectivity to it. Like, maybe time wasn't passing for me out there because I didn't feel like it was. Whereas in the settlements, there are other people around to keep you grounded."
Lucy was impressed, she'd never met anyone who was as serious about figuring things out as Deb was. She had an air of casual inquisitiveness, as if she were merely on vacation and they were all just curiosities to her. Deb leaned in towards Lucy, peering at her like she was a colorful bug Deb just found on the ground.
"And what about you?" she said. "What insights do you hope to gain by speaking with our illustrious conductor?"
“I want to know how one goes about constructing a settlement from the ground up,” Lucy said, plainly.
“Well, yeah. So do I,” said Deb, “but why? What are you after here?”
“What are you after?” Lucy said by way of an answer.
“Oh, I just think it’d be fun to know!”
Lucy couldn’t help but give a slightly condescending chuckle at that. “Yeah well, I’m hoping it’ll bring me one step closer to unraveling the mystery of what’s happening to the world.”
“That’s quite a lofty goal.”
“Thank you.”
“Cutting right to the heart of it all. Are you hoping to save the world with that knowledge?” Deb asked in a tone that Lucy couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be mocking or not.
“Not really,” said Lucy, answering anyway, “I don’t think anything can save the world at this point. I just want to know for my own peace of mind.”
“Knowledge for its own sake, huh? You know, I think we have a lot in common,” said Deb.
“I guess so.”
“Why don’t we go talk to the conductor together? I’m excited to meet him with you.”
“Sure. Why not?” Lucy began to rise from her table and Deb followed suit.
“Wait,” said Matt, “you’re leaving? What about our meal?”
“I’ve lost my appetite,” said Lucy, walking with Deb away from the table, “I’ll meet up with you later.”
“Suit yourself,” said Matt.
Lucy followed Deb out of the dining car. Up ahead were the second class cars for people with separate cabins. The sounds of laughter and excitement echoed through the narrow hallway as they passed by door after door. Passengers enjoying the company of strangers on their forever trip to nowhere. Some of the cabins they passed had their lights off. Lucy wondered if there were dead bodies in there too.
“They seem happy,” Lucy said over a particularly rancorous bout of laughter from the cabin next to them.
“Why wouldn’t they be?” said Deb. “This is a nice place and the people here are friendly.”
“Don’t they know what’s happening out there?”
“I think it’s specifically because of what’s happening out there that they want to be in here with each other.” Deb turned her head to look at Lucy as she walked. “There’s a certain intimacy to traveling with a stranger, I find. A transient connection between people with nothing in common but a destination. This train is a tribute to that fleeting sense of community.”
“That sounds stupid, honestly,” Lucy said.
“You like to be alone, don’t you?”
“I’m not completely alone. I have Matt with me.”
“Yes.” Deb turned forward again, away from Lucy. “You’re lucky to have him. People often lose their minds travelling the wilderness alone.”
“Then who are you travelling with?”
“Oh, I travel with all sorts of people. Just not for long.”
“Why not?”
“I prefer people in small doses. It’s easier.”
“I bet it is.”
They reached the door at the end of the car. Deb opened it. They braced themselves against the rush outside. The rhythmic chugging of the wheels and the powerful waves hit them as they passed between the cars. Lucy steadied herself on a rail beside her and watched Deb open the next door ahead. The inside was more like a warehouse than a train car. They found themselves surrounded by mountainous stacks of luggage piled several stories high. The water was stale. Algae had overtaken the bags at the bottom of the piles around them.
Deb bounced back and forth examining the filthy bags with a feverish excitement. Lucy followed in tow. Something dawned on her as she watched Deb dart between piles.
"These bags…" Lucy said.
"Yes," said Deb. "They belong to the passengers. They've been sitting here for a long time."
Lucy figured none of the passengers who get on this train ever get back off. Not alive, anyways.
"These bags could be from the old world," Lucy said with awe in her voice.
That made this room a potential treasure trove of information about life before the collapse. A record. Something nearly impossible to find out in the wastes. Lucy thought of her own fractured and faded memories of life before the collapse of reality. The clear blue skies and green fields. Then she thought of the farm she saw in her vision, of her mother and grandmother, of hiding in fields of wheat. Those were memories designed to lure her into a trap, but often wondered if there was any truth behind them.
As though reading each other's minds, they each grabbed one of the algae covered bags at the bottoms of their respective piles and pushed them back to back. Lucy smiled giddily, her heart thundering in anticipation. What secrets would they find in these bags? What insight would they provide about life before the collapse? Anything at all would be valuable. She dared not hope for something as useful as a diary. Even a useless trinket would work. Anything that could pierce the veil of isolating nothing that the world had become and give her some connection to a world that made sense.
"Ready?" Deb asked her.
Lucy took a deep breath. "Yes."
They clicked the latches on their bags and opened them simultaneously. An explosion of dust immediately clouded their vision and muddied the water around them. Lucy opened her eyes through her coughing fit to see what was in the bag. Nothing. Just piles of white ash sitting pitifully in their empty containers. The grey substance filled the room around them, the water turned thick and bitter.
Deb sat back dejectedly. "I'm gonna go try one of the newer ones," she said. "Though, somehow I doubt it'll be any different."
Lucy didn't say a word back as Deb got up and climbed one of the piles. She just sat there and stared into the ash. She couldn't help feeling like she was staring into the future. No matter what she or anyone else did, everything was destined for the same fate. Fields of white ash stretching on forever.
"No good!" Deb called from the top of the pile. "They're all the same."
"Deb," said Lucy, "can I ask you something?"
"Sure," said Deb, climbing back down to the ground.
"Do you remember it at all? Life before all this, I mean."
"Oh." Deb sat down before Lucy. Her playful demeanor fell away and revealed a solemness that struck Lucy. "I probably remember it about as well as you do. I have pieces and vague memories but nothing specific."
"Yeah, that's how I feel too," said Lucy. "The problem is, I think I'm losing what few memories I did have. I feel like everything's fading away--like I’m fading away."
"That can happen when you isolate yourself. Especially out in the wastes. It's a dangerous place to be alone. Like it or not, we need other people around us," said Deb.
"I don't see the point. Why get attached to other people if I know they're all going to die soon anyway?" said Lucy.
"I didn't say anything about getting attached," said Deb. "Keep them at arm's length and cut them off when you don't need them anymore."
"I guess you have it all figured out, huh?" said Lucy. "I don't think I have the heart for that."
"You'll get there someday." Deb smiled again.
Lucy gave a soft, sad chuckle. She lingered there with Deb for a while, basking in the stale, muddy, claustrophobic water. When Lucy’s eyes met hers again, her expression was muted and somber, lost even. Quickly, she resumed her bubbly appearance and stood up.
“Well,” she said, “I guess there’s nothing else for us to do here. Let’s keep going!”
“Yeah. Alright.” Lucy stood up too.
They crossed the wide distance to the exit door at the far end of the warehouse car and left the place and its dismal, empty bags behind.
Pistons pounding, metal scraping against metal, the sweltering steam from the furnace. The engine room was a cacophony of industrial noises. A rattling coffin that the conductor toiled away in, day after nauseating day. He sloshed through the knee deep puddle of water that covered the floor of this room, past the steady stream that leaked in from the roof somewhere, adding to the noises surrounding him. He grabbed a shovel full of coal and chucked it haphazardly into the furnace. The flames struggled to eat the wet coal, limply steaming the excess water away before it could properly touch it. The flame was dying. That had been clear for a long time. As the train plunged deeper and deeper into the ocean, the flame struggled to keep itself alight.
The conductor knew this would happen. From the day he built the train it was clear that it would only last for so long. It could only last for as long as he wanted it too, and he was losing the will to keep it going. Whatever charitable spirit had possessed him when he built the train, whatever force of will allowed him to pull matter from the void and shape it to his liking, had long since faded. He had been living on pure inertia for some time, maintaining the engine out of habit. But entropy comes for everything in the end, and he too felt everything slowing down.
The flame would die, and everyone on board the train would die with it. And he didn’t care. He felt nothing as he watched the flame gasp and sputter for sustenance, as the engine lurched on with increasing friction and difficulty. The passengers on board the train, the lives he’d dedicated himself to protecting, had become mere memories to him, and the memories were hazy at best at this point. The train was his only companion, always had been. And it was killing him.
The flame touched the coal, flaring to life briefly before settling back into its feeble state. The pistons around the conductor pounded and pounded, metal scraping against metal. The water poured in and sloshed around the tiny, rattling cabin. The conductor found himself wondering, not for the first time, if death would really be such a bad thing.
The noise of the engine grew louder as Lucy and Deb approached the very front of the train. They’d climbed on top of the coal-car and carefully inched their way to the engine. Deb managed to open the sealed door from her precarious position hanging off the side of the engine car. The force of the water spilling into the empty car forced them both in before the door closed itself behind them. They stumbled to their feet. Lucy took a deep breath, suddenly aware of how wet and cold she was now that she was no longer submerged.
Before them stood a gruff looking man in a green jumpsuit, carrying a bucket of water and glaring ferociously at them. He stood in front of a large, open furnace with a weak flame burning inside that was the only source of light in the room.
Deb straightened up, put on her cheeriest smile and said, “hello! We’ve come to speak with the conductor. I assume you’re him?”
“Go away,” the man growled. He turned and emptied the bucket into the furnace.
“We were hoping to ask you how you built this place,” said Deb, ignoring him.
“Don’t remember.” The conductor bent over and refilled the bucket and emptied it into the furnace again. The flame doused to barely a flicker now.
“Um, what are you doing with the furnace?” Deb approached the conductor cautiously.
“I’m putting it out,” he said, filling the bucket one more time.
“Why?”
“I’m tired. I’m sick of this train. I’m sick of this room. And I’m sick of you people.”
“Deb,” said Lucy. At this point, she was already backing towards the door. She fully expected this guy to snap at any moment.
“But won’t that kill us all?” Deb asked.
“I’m counting on it.” The conductor extinguished the furnace.
At once the room was plunged into darkness as the engine gasped out its last burst of energy. Lucy grabbed Deb by the wrist and rushed to open the door. They swam through the torrent of water that came crashing into the engine room. They climbed over the side and ran across the coal-car. They re-entered the passenger car on the other side. The lights were out. Everything rattled with the shifting weight as the train grinded to a stop.
“I don’t understand,” said Deb, deliriously. “Why would he just kill it after all this time?”
“Deb, we have to warn the other passengers!” Lucy shouted.
She ran to one of the cabin doors and slid it open. Inside were four passengers sitting limp in their seats, their heads bobbing with the rumbling around them. Dead. Lucy took a trembling step back. The train finally screeched to a stand still and everything went suddenly quiet. Lucy and Deb exchanged a tense look. Lucy couldn’t escape the feeling that she was trapped inside a submerged steel coffin. She opened the door next to the cabin. More corpses. It was the same story in the next room and the next all the way down the car.
“It seems,” said Deb, “that there are no passengers left to warn.”
“I don’t-”
Banging. All around them were the deafening sounds of banging, like a thousand scavenging birds were trying to tear into the car and devour them. A window shattered somewhere. Lucy ran over to the cabin the sound had come from. She froze in the door. A horrid looking fish reached its massive head through the broken window; its rows of razor sharp teeth clamped around the shoulders of one of the dead passengers. Its blank, cloudy eye seemed to stare right into Lucy. It ripped the corpse out of its seat and into the darkness outside. Lucy slammed the door shut. Other windows broke. The banging grew louder.
"We have to get out of here!" Deb screamed. She reached for a flotation device hanging off the wall and grabbed Lucy by the wrist. They ran out of the car and swam up, away from the train.
Lucy saw thousands of fishlike monsters tear the train apart. Glass, steel, furniture, bags, and bodies all splayed out on the ocean floor as they tore into the train's guts with hungry ferocity. Lucy watched the grisly scene until she and Deb floated high enough for it to disappear from view in the murky waters.
They broke the surface. Again, the air felt weird to Lucy after spending so long beneath the sea. Cold as the wind touched her wet skin and clothes, heavy without the buoyancy she'd grown accustomed to. She and Deb both clung to the floating disk. The moon shone full from its perch in the starless sky, its pale light reflecting calmly on the eerily still water.
Lucy took a deep shivering breath. She tried very hard to calm her nerves but they wouldn’t. There was an unbearable tension in the air, like something was going to pop out of the darkness at any moment and attack them. If Deb felt the same way, she didn’t show it. Her head was resting against her arm on the disk.
“Hey, Deb?” Lucy said, breaking the silence, “Can I ask you another question?”
“Sure,” said Deb.
“Do you think any of this is even real?”
“What do you mean,” asked Deb, picking her head up.
“You said time passes differently based on how we perceive it. That our experience is subjective. How do we know that doesn’t apply to everything we perceive?”
“That’s a good question.” Deb’s voice was tired, like all the life had gone out of her. “In the old days, we had some kind of objective reality to measure our subjective experiences against. Now we don’t. It’s all crumbling away.”
“Then, if there’s no objective reality, how do we know this all isn’t just some kind of nightmare?”
“We don’t. It sure as heck feels like a nightmare, doesn’t it?”
“Then I ask again,” said Lucy, trying to look into Deb’s eyes, despite the dark, “do you think any of this is real?”
“I guess, in some sense, it isn’t, since ‘real’ is no longer a meaningful concept. But it also is, in that it’s something we’re all experiencing. Something that affects us all deeply, and that we can’t escape from by simply waking up, no matter how hard we might want to.” Deb sighed and rested her head back on her arm. “What a mess,” she added.
Lucy parked her chin on the cold, wet floaty. Deb’s words were of little comfort to her. They drifted on, sitting in silence, trying to get some form of rest despite the circumstances. Eventually the morning sun came and brought its pale light through the dull, grey clouds that swirled violently without wind. Over the horizon, they saw a coastline appear. Land. The sight brought some relief to Lucy, who was sure she would never see land again. They let the waves carry them to the sandy shore. When they landed, they crawled on hands and knees away from the sea.
They turned over on their backs, watching the clouds dance above. Lucy let out a tearful laugh. She couldn’t help herself.
“I guess we’re going to be alright after all,” said Deb smiling.
“I really thought we were going to die out there,” said Lucy, relieved tears streaming down her face.
“The void can be kind sometimes,” said Deb, closing her eyes.
Lucy closed her eyes too. Sleep came to her immediately.
She dreamt of the sky.
Of birds, soaring above a world burning away.
Plumes of black smoke choking the air.
The scorched earth peeling back to reveal a formless white substance.
Herself taking it in her hands.
It was warm.
She awoke to sand being poured on her face. She sat up, spitting it out of her mouth and trying to wipe it from her nose. Sitting next to her was Matt, a handful of sand in one hand, a spoon in the other. He was eating a bowl of soup resting in his lap. As Lucy stared dumbfounded at him, she realized to her shame that she hadn’t thought of him once during all the chaos. She looked to her other side. Deb wasn’t there. She searched frantically but there was no sign of her.
“Where’s Deb,” she asked.
Matt gulped down another spoonful of soup and said, “she left. She said she wishes you good luck, though.”
“Oh.” Lucy laid back down. It was beginning to dawn on her, the realization that she would never see Deb again. That they were now separated in space and time. Traveling in the void means you’ll never see the same place or meet the same people twice. She was gone, as quickly as she had arrived. Lucy didn’t know why she was so upset by this.
Matt slurped again at his soup.
“What are you eating,” asked Lucy.
“Tomato soup from the train.”
“How is it?”
“Tastes like seawater.”
“Huh.”
Lucy turned over on her side and began to quietly sob. Matt looked out at the sea, murky and black. Somewhere above, a seagull flew towards the horizon.