by Michael P. Dunn
He was known simply as the Conductor. No other name was better suited, nor was another name needed.
He had a name, a formal name by which others knew him. Knew him and avoided him. A solitary figure for most of his life, he never cared what others thought of him. He had his work, his life’s work, and nothing else was needed. His memories of the others had faded with the passage of uncounted time.
Now he was simply the Conductor, seeing to the needs of others, ensuring safe passage, ferrying them from here to there.
He was the Conductor, still working, after uncounted time, still caring.
After uncounted time, still almost alone.
Finally, after uncounted time, tired.
* * *
Her first clear thought was, Whath’ell?
For more minutes than she could count, Rosalind Hart remained still, trying to get some sense of where she was. She knew she was lying down on something hard and cold. Linoleum, she thought, or vinyl tile. She could feel gentle rocking, telling her that wherever she was, she was in motion. Rosalind thought she heard footsteps, rubber soled shoes walking slowly around her. Confusion replaced the initial shock and quickly spread through her. A frightened whimper drifted from her mouth.
A confusion of sounds and images crawled into her mind. She could hear screeching tires and running feet. Yelling voices and sirens echoed madly. She could smell something burning, rubber and something else, something she couldn’t identify.
The images faded, to be replaced by flashing red, blue and white lights. Someone, a man she thought, was speaking in the distance, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying.
Another voice, much louder and far too close, sounded in her ears. “Are you awake yet?”
Rosalind’s eyes snapped open as she sat up, heart suddenly racing, a surprised gasp escaping her. She felt panic as she looked around, trying to locate the man that spoke to her. All she saw was rows of thinly padded plastic seats, metal poles, florescent lights and large, darkened windows.
I’m on the subway, her mind gibbered. When did I get on the subway?
She closed her eyes, breathed deeply and waited for her heart to slow to normal. Her location bothered her; because of extreme paranoia, she avoided the subway, opting for walking, buses, or, in rare instances, taxis.
Maybe I’m not on the subway. Maybe I’m just imagining it. When I open my eyes, it’ll all be gone.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, Rosalind opened her eyes. Finding herself still on the floor of the subway car didn’t surprise her. Finding the man standing in front of her was another story.
“Who…?” He looked to be somewhere near forty, dark hair cut short, eyes of extremely light blue. He was conservatively dressed, black suit, white shirt.
“Who…?” Rosalind wondered where he had come from; there hadn’t been anyone standing there when she opened her eyes the first time, and she hadn’t heard footsteps.
“Who…?”
“You’ve said who three times in less than five minutes. You think you’re an owl, maybe?”
Rosalind’s mouth worked for a minute before she found her voice. “Where did you come from? Who are you? Where am I?” Panic began to overwhelm her.
“Slowly now. I’ve always been here. This is my place, my life’s work. No matter how muddled and confused you may be, it should be obvious where you are. What’s the last thing you remember, Ms. Hart?”
Rosalind stared, wondering how the man knew her name. “Okay. You’re right. I am confused. I remember people running and yelling. There was an ambulance, I think. Maybe it was a cop car. Something was burning. Maybe.”
She closed her eyes and let the fragments drift through her mind. “That’s it. That’s all I remember. Who are you?”
He helped Rosalind to her feet. “You can call me the Conductor. This is my train. It’s my job to bring people from one place to the next. Are you feeling all right, Ms. Hart?”
“A little dizzy. When did I tell you my name?”
“I know the name of everyone who comes aboard my train. It’s part of my job, to make my passengers as comfortable as I can.”
Rosalind looked around, a confused frown crossing her face. She considered the empty seats that ran up both sides of the car. “Passengers? I seem to be the only one here.” Still looking around, she caught sight of her reflection in a window. Short brown hair surrounded a round face that looked younger than it was. Half-open gray eyes reflected the confusion she felt. Her pleated shirt and close-fitting black pants looked rumpled, as if she slept in them. Rosalind had been told that she was beautiful, but she never agreed with the compliment.
“At the moment, you’re the only one. Usually, every car is filled to capacity. But this is a special trip. On this trip, you’re my only passenger.”
“Should I feel honored?”
The Conductor considered. “In your position, I would be.”
Suspicion grew in her mind. “What position am I in?”
A smile crossed the Conductor’s tired face. “Softly now, child. You want to learn everything so fast? You’ll be here long enough to answer all your questions. Now, if you’ll excuse me. There are a few things I must check on.”
He started for the front of the car. He slid open a door then turned back to Rosalind. “In the next car, you’ll find coffee and sandwiches. You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten.” His smile didn’t make Rosalind feel better.
A shudder ran through her body as the door slid shut. Rosalind looked around the empty car, uncertainty and paranoia beginning to nag at the back of her mind. Seeing her battered trench coat rolled up on one seat made her feel better, a familiar object in a strange situation. As she slipped on the coat, Rosalind leaned close to one of the windows. She could see nothing outside the train; the darkness beyond the window was so deep, so impenetrable, it could have been a solid wall.
Rosalind turned to the front door, feeling at once confused, concerned, apprehensive and, to her surprise, hungry. She considered following the Conductor, but decided against it. Following him won’t help. He won’t tell me anything until he’s ready. I could use a cup of coffee. With a resigned shrug, Rosalind shuffled to the car’s back door.
With senses he could never describe (at least, not in any terms she could understand), he watched her, studied her, and knew he had chosen wisely.
“Feeling better?”
Rosalind looked up from the linen tablecloth she had been studying, a surprised frown crossing her face. “Where did you come from?” She hadn’t heard the door open, nor had she heard footsteps. “Do you naturally move so quietly, or do you like to sneak up on people?”
“I’m quiet by nature. And I never sneak up on people. People always know when I’m coming.” The Conductor sat opposite Rosalind at the small table near the front of the car. “What do you think of my train?”
“The train? If these two cars are any indication, this is the oddest train I’ve ever seen.” Rosalind looked around the car again, her frown growing. While the car she had first found herself had been a typical subway car, this car looked more like the dining room of a restaurant. Heavy curtains covered the windows. At the front of the car was a cold buffet. An urn sat at one end of the table.
He considered the plate and half cup of coffee in front of Rosalind. “My passengers have to be comfortable. A light meal is usually enough to settle them down. Are you feeling any more relaxed?”
“A little. I don’t feel like I’m on the edge of a panic attack.”
“Good. Has your memory improved any?”
“A little. Is every car different?”
“No. It alternates between passenger cars and dining cars. What else do you remember?”
Rosalind sipped her coffee. “I was driving home from a party. Where the party was, I still can’t say. And I still don’t remember where I live.”
“Better. How old are you?”
“Thirty-four, I think.”
Rosalind pulled aside the curtains on the window to the right of the table. “Where are we? It’s like we’re inside an eternally long tunnel.”
“Almost, but not quite. It’s not eternally long. It just seems that way. Everything would be pointless if it were that long. No, there is a beginning and an end. We’re about halfway through.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the end.”
“And that is…where?” The Conductor’s smile was all the answer Rosalind got. “Wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess. I’ll be here long enough to learn all your secrets, so why rush it. Right?”
“I always find life easier to take when you take it slowly.”
He watched Rosalind absently push crumbs around her plastic plate. “You don’t like not having your questions answered.”
Rosalind shrugged and leaned close to the window. She tried to make out some kind of detail in the deeper-than-natural darkness. “I have amnesia, so I have no clear idea how I came to be on this train of yours. I know something happened, but I can’t remember what. It strikes me that you know a lot more than you’re telling me.”
The Conductor’s smile made him look like a cobra. “You’re right. I know everything about you. If I tell you everything, will it help your memory?”
Rosalind stared at him. “I was in an accident. I’m in a coma, aren’t I? This is all in my mind.”
“Is it? Are you certain?”
Rosalind looked around the dining car, nervously pulling her overcoat closer. “This is real? I’m either in an episode of The Outer Limits, or I’m…” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “I’m…”
“Maybe.”
“Oh Jesus Christ!” Rosalind slammed both hands on the table and stood, knocking over the chair. “What is this? An existential train?”
“Maybe.”
Rosalind threw her head back and yelled in frustration. “I’m in an asylum and an inmate’s running it!”
The Conductor stood and stepped behind her. “What did I tell you before? Softly. Go softly. You’ll get your answers.”
“When you’re damn good and ready to give them to me. Tell me.”
“Of course I’ll tell you everything you want to know. In time.”
“In time? How long am I supposed to wait?” Rosalind turned. There was an innocent look on the Conductor’s face. “Forget it. Don’t tell me. When we reach the end, right? When will we reach the end? When we get there.” She waved a hand frantically at the back of the car. “What’s through that door?”
“Another passenger car. I told you, the train alternates between passenger cars and dining cars.”
“It’s also the only thing you’ve told me. Let me know when we reach the end. I don’t want to see you until you’re ready to give me some answers.” Rosalind pushed passed the Conductor and started for the back of the car.
She was reaching for the door when she heard the other voice. “She has a right to be angry, Charon. You’re playing with her.”
Rosalind turned slowly, surprise replacing anger. A woman now stood by the coffee urn, fists planted firmly on her slender hips. “We very graciously gave you the opportunity to do this. Don’t abuse our generosity.” She was younger than the Conductor, wearing a black and gray jumpsuit. There was anger in her brown eyes. “If you’re going to do this, get on with it.”
“So, who are you? The engineer of this train?” Rosalind noticed the Conductor was starting to look uncomfortable.
“Hardly. I’m a…coworker, if you will. Charon made a request for time alone with you. We granted him that time, but the others are becoming impatient.”
“Kia, I misjudged the timing, I admit it. I was anxious and acted too soon. I think that should be taken into consideration.”
“Oh, trust me, it was. We wondered why you took her at the moment, then waited. What are you playing at?”
“Wait a minute! Hold on! Stop!” Rosalind massaged her eyes and wished she were somewhere, anywhere, else. “What did you call him?”
Rather than answer, the newcomer crossed to the Conductor’s side. “I called him Charon. That’s the name he’s used almost as long as humanity has existed. Do you recognize it?”
“Of course I do. Charon, the ferryman. According to myth, for the price of a coin placed in the mouth of the deceased, Charon would take the soul across the river Styx. What does that have to do with…with…wait a minute.”
Rosalind sat and pulled her overcoat close, to fight off the chill that suddenly raged through her body. “He’s Charon. This, apparently, is some variation of his boat. Out there is the river Styx. Which means I’m dead.”
Her head fell forward, a frown crossing her face as her mind finally cleared. “I went to my friend Amy’s birthday party. I left around midnight. I was going through an intersection when it happened. I had the green light, but the other guy blew his red light. I still can’t remember the actual accident, but I know I was hit on the driver’s side. Idiot me wasn’t wearing my seat belt, either. Oh God.”
The Conductor gave Kia an angry look, then took a seat next to Rosalind. “I should have told you the truth from the start. Or at least allowed you to regain your memories sooner. But I was afraid…”
Rosalind looked up, her face suddenly calm. “So, the end of the line is the afterlife?”
“Afterlife?” Kia sounded amused as she started to pace. “The afterlife, in all its many names, was created by humans in order to soothe their fears. No one could know what happens after the moment of death; it was understandably frightening. Telling themselves there was the promise of eternal life in Heaven, Nirvana, Valhalla, the Elysian Fields, made death easier to take.”
She waited for Rosalind to question. When no question came, Kia continued. “I assumed you’d ask what actually happened at the moment of death.”
“I’m still trying to accept being dead. Just keep going. I’ll catch up with you.”
“Very well. Despite what you see around you, this isn’t a train. Charon and I aren’t human. We have no real physical form, but assume forms to suit whoever we’re near. Which means everyone sees us differently.”
“Who are you?”
Charon exchanged a look with Kia. “We’re shepherds, if you will. Some watch over humanity, some try to keep Earth a viable habitat. My function is to ease the movement of souls from the deceased to those about to be born.”
Rosalind’s face was blank, confused and nearly overwhelmed. “But what are you? The Greek and Roman gods were just myth. You don’t fit into Judeo-Christian doctrine. Unless you’re angels.”
Charon shook his head slowly. “No, we’re not angels. As for the Greeks and Romans, those names were applied to us as an attempt to understand the world. We’re something else. Aspects of Nature, if you will.”
Rosalind sat back in her chair, then turned to the window behind her. She stared at her reflection for a long minute before she turned back. “You said he wanted time alone with me. Why?”
Now Kia looked uncomfortable. “Charon has always been a little…odd. The rest of us are content to carry on our life’s work, without rest, without tiring. Charon, in defiance of the way of things, has grown tired of his life. He’s tired of being a shepherd.”
“I’m not tired, Kia, but I am bored. For as long as humans have walked the Earth, I’ve shepherded them from death to life. I’ve lost track of how long it’s been. The thought of uncounted millennia of this is too much to bear.”
“So, what do you want? A companion?”
“No, not a companion. I want change. Rather than shepherd souls, I want to become one. I want to return to the World and experience life among humans.”
“But to do that, he needs a replacement. None of us are willing to do it.” Kia looked to one side, as did Charon, as if both were listening to something only they could hear. “The others are getting impatient.”
“You want me to take your place?” Rosalind looked from Kia to Charon, eyes narrowing in fearful suspicion. “Why do you need a replacement? Can’t all this continue on without someone to watch over it?”
“That would be unthinkable. Remember how confused and disorientated you were at the start? Imagine a train full of souls in the same condition. Or worse, on the edge of panic.” Charon closed his eyes and shuddered. “I don’t want to think about it. And at the end, when the time came for the souls to enter their new bodies, there would be no one to direct them.”
“God, you make it sound like you’re a letter sorter at the post office.”
“Not a bad analogy, really. As to why there has to be someone, it’s a matter of balance. There has to be symmetry between your existence and ours. Haven’t you ever wanted to do something for the greater good? Now is your chance.”
Rosalind stood and walked to the front of the car. “Do I really have a choice?”
“No. You never had a choice.” Rosalind turned quickly, not surprised to see both Charon and Kia vanished. The lighting inside the car started to fade, though she wondered if her eyesight was starting to go. “It’s time for us to act.” Their voices now combined into one, sounding quietly in her mind.
“I don’t know what to do…” Her own voice was becoming a whisper, no matter how hard she tried to speak louder. “How will I know…I’m not sure…I can’t…”
“You have nothing to worry about. We’ll show you everything you need to know.”
The dining car was lost completely in darkness. The chill that had started deep inside had spread outward, until her entire body was like ice. “What do I do…?”
“Be at ease. We will do everything.”
Rosalind felt as if she were falling, though she could no longer see, could feel nothing but cold, and silence pounded at her ears. “…I’m afraid…”
“We know. Be at ease. It is done.”
With one last instant of hesitation, the soul that had called itself Rosalind Hart ceased to be. Replaced by a soul without identity, but eager to learn about the world that awaited it.
* * *
His eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly on the thinly padded seat. He felt confused, unsure how he came to be on the crowded subway train. “I was driving down the Parkway,” he said to no one in particular. “There were lights. How did I get on the subway?”
The woman next to him matched confused looks with him. “Someone was in my apartment…oh God, what did he do to me?”
“Are you all right, folks?” Both man and woman looked up. In the aisle stood a young woman, wearing a white pleated shirt, close-fitting black pants and a gray overcoat. She was smiling, putting the two at ease. “There’s coffee and sandwiches in the next car, if that will make you feel better.”
“Where are we,” the man asked. “How did we get here?”
“Don’t worry, folks. Everything will become clear in a few minutes. Just don’t give in to the fear and panic.” Her smile grew, easing the two, as she had before, as she would again and again.
She was known, now, simply as the Conductor. No other name was better suited, nor was another name needed.
She had a name once, a formal name by which others knew her. A solitary figure for most of her existence, she had never cared for the needs of others. Now, others needed her, and she willingly saw to those needs. She needed nothing else. Her memories of others had faded, along with the memory of her name, with the passage of uncounted time.
Now, she was simply the Conductor, seeing to the needs of others, ensuring safe passage, ferrying them from here to there.
She was the Conductor, still working, after uncounted time, finally caring.
After uncounted time, still almost alone.
After uncounted time, still eager to please.
Not tired.
Yet.
About the Author
Michael P. Dunn was born in New York, and currently lives in Florida. he discovered science fiction at an early age, growing up on Lost In Space, Captain Scarlet and The Thunderbirds. He’s always had an active imagination, and started writing the day after he saw Star Wars. He divides his time between working full time and writing. He lives alone, except for his cat, Sunspot. Writing is probably the only thing that keeps him sane.
©2010 Michael P. Dunn
