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Psychopomp

A simple act of deliverance

By J.R.KarlenPublished 2 years ago 17 min read
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"Space is to place as eternity is to time" - Joseph Joubert

When I woke up, it was in the dark. I tried to organize my thoughts, tried to remember—how had I gotten here? They’d told me it would be like this, hadn’t they? That for the first half hour, I should just try and relax and take control of my thoughts. What had their other advice been? It was so hard to focus; words kept appearing in my mind. Words like: delirium, disorientation, confusion; aren’t those some of the words the woman had used?

My vision was blurry, and my eyes felt close to bursting as I took in my surroundings. But as I continued to work them, a feeling of normalcy began to return. The room—no, that’s not quite right—the compartment, I’d be in a compartment… that’s what they called rooms on a train, right? And I was on a train; at least that much had returned to me.

The compartment’s specifics included a great many words describing food storage. Looking around, it seemed to me that just about anything someone might ever crave could be found somewhere in my immediate surroundings: wines dating back to the earth period, hard-liquors, and an absurd assortment of preserved delicacies. Looking at it, the veritable fortune that sat in this dark compartment, I find myself wondering how long it will last.

I notice that I’m wearing a suit; feeling the fabric—sensation had just then returned to my fingers after all—I can tell that it’s expensive. Very expensive. I’ve never been one for the finer aspects of life; I’d never tried to kid myself.

I checked my pockets; what would they have given me? All but two appeared empty; feeling at my left side, I found an unmarked envelope containing only two things: a short list of instructions and a microchip. In my right flap pocket, I found a gun. Not a modern gun, no, a relic. It was entirely made of metal, had a rounded cylinder and a long pointer barrel; opening it, I could see that the gun held only two bullets—neither, I knew, were meant for the man I was there to kill.

Reading the first few lines of the instructions, I got to work. But just before I left, I find myself looking out the storage compartment’s window. The infinite cosmos stretched out before me—only inches away, kept at bay by a bit of simple reinforced glass and a protective radiation barrier. If I unfocused my eyes, the stars would stretch out, becoming speed-lines like in the comics I used to read as a kid. But that was enough of thinking about the past… it was time to get serious about what I was there for.

My employers wouldn’t have purchased me a ticket. That kind of paper trial would be too easy to follow; instead, as I inspected the hibernation-chamber, I figure I’d been secretly loaded up under the guise of chilled wines. But I was getting distracted… my head still wasn’t all my own. Thoughts still all muddied.

Leaving the compartment, the bright lights of the passenger hallway stung my eyes. I squinted as if trying to force the pain out; it didn’t work. Once my eyes had adjusted however, I had to take another second to come to terms with where exactly I was standing.

Red carpet and polished gold complimented the fine redwood that made up the hallways of the train. Doors to the left served as portals to the individual sleeping quarters of the train’s official passengers. Given that I had no idea what time the train was currently operating on, I wasn’t sure if these quarters would be filled or empty. However, it didn’t matter either way, not to me at least.

Compartment after compartment, I walked. I bathed in the warm amber glow of the many lights and felt myself come alive again after my short but disorienting sleep. I also finally felt as if all my faculties had returned to me; I still may not fully remember how I came to be here; it was never a part of the plan for me to know that, but I knew one thing for sure, I knew why I was there.

The door leading into the train's engine room was completely out of place; one of the only details I had seen that did not belong in the 1930’s earth period reconstruction that was the Nebulous. The door was made of neigh impenetrable glass—same as the windows. Breaking in would be impossible, as my instructions explained, but breaking it wasn’t necessary; I was simply going to enter a code.

Checking my paper, I knew that the touch-pad just to the left of the door was not the place to enter the code I’d been supplied with. Instead, I investigated the wall, right of the door. I ran my fingers along the nearly invisible edge, then pressed slightly. The panel popped out of place with a gentle release of pressure. Inside the panel was a screen showing a series of switches and numbers; at the center, there was a small keypad—less outwardly fancy than its cousin just feet away, but just as effective. Carefully, I entered the fifteen-digit numerical code—certain to press the button down with the perfect amount of force each time. I felt the keys of the pad collapse under the pressure, and I thought to himself how much I preferred physical keys to that of a touch-screen. There was something much more real about actual keys, actual buttons.

A moment of nothingness followed as I pressed the final key, then the door to the engine room slid open with barely a whisper. Like the door’s appearance had suggested, the inside of the engine room looked nothing like the rest of the antique modeled train. The engine room was the very finest in space travel—and would have been downright lifeless if it weren’t for my steady breathing and the blinking of a few coloured lights.

Walking inside the engine room was like stepping back into the present from a long distant past. Of course, even back in the present, I stood in a world wholly different than the one that had been my previous life. Gleaming metal surfaces and top-of-the-line computers displayed information that would typically never be seen. I knew that part of the allure of the Nebulous was the automated experience. No need to mingle with the lower crust. In fact, as the instructions explained, there was only one living official representative aboard the train during its travels—the captain. I could see him now. Frozen in suspended animation, the captain would sleep until such time that their services would be required. This meant that, at least in my estimation, the captain would most likely be spending most, if not all his time, asleep. I supposed there were worst ways to make a living. No, I didn’t need to suppose… I knew there were.

I continued to stare into the frozen face of the captain. Is that what I had looked like? Eyes closed, the captain could have been asleep, but the temperature inside the hibernation-chamber meant the captain was closer to dead than anything else. I looked around the side of the chamber for the emergency release valve—then pulled it. A loud crack sounded in the room as the pressure from inside the chamber was released, and the revival process began. I watched as a multitude of different procedures took place, the same that I’d undergone only a short time before. It was simply fascinating to watch.

The door finally opened fully, releasing the last bit of cold air; the chill washed over me, and I found it oddly comforting. Then I took one last look at the captain. The man's eyes were beginning to flutter as he finished the process of waking up. I saw the lights of the hibernation chamber turn off; its job was done. Its job done, mine to continue; I took out my gun, closed my eyes, and shot the captain in the head.

The captain's lifeless body crumpled to the floor just as I clutched at my ears. The shot had been far louder than I’d been expecting; after all, I’d never fired a gun. How could I know what it would be like? To hear the sound of death. I looked down at the body and saw how the blood pooled around the captain's head, almost like some perverse halo. I stared at the body for a long while, looking carefully at the first of two sacrifices that would be made.

The last few lines of instructions were easy enough to follow. Kneeling, I withdrew the captain's key card before dragging the corpse close enough to the terminal so that I could use the captain's lifeless hand to pass the first layers of authentication. Then it was a simple matter of porting the captain's privileges over to myself, allowing nearly full access to the Nebulous’ systems. Then for the final step: reaching delicately into my breast pocket, I pulled out the microchip. Placing it into the terminal, I need do nothing but click accept when the prompt asking for permission appeared on the screen. Then it was done. Over. The change imperceptible—yet damning.

***

For ten days, I waited. Two-hundred and forty hours. It wasn’t the worst ten days of my life, though it might have possibly been the ten with the most anticipation. I stayed in a vacant cabin upgraded to premium status with my stolen privileges; the room received anything I wished for, brought by metallic hands and soulless forms. I ate three meals a day, and when I was not eating, I looked out the window.

There was a specific cluster of stars in the vast distance that had been visible for days. In the black infinity that was the cosmos, this grouping of stars seemed drawn to each other in such a way that it was like a glimmering river running through a barren wasteland. As I watched it, I thought of the myths of old. Who was I in this story? It was a question that lingered all ten days; it was only on the final day that I decided, I would be their boatman across this river of cosmos.

The dusking of the tenth day was the end of my waiting. Up until that moment, my heartbeat had been a thundering storm in my chest, but now I felt myself finally relax. We were officially past the point of no return, our collective fates sealed.

I walked past many passengers on my way to the lounge car. Most did not meet my eye. They seemed barely able to recognize me as a presence in their world. Perhaps a part of them knew I didn’t belong with them; that I was an interloper, an intruder. The night was late; many would be moving back to their rooms for sleep; imagining that come the scheduled morning, they would be within hours of arriving at their destination. If only they knew that the world they went to sleep in, would not be the world they awoke to. Well, they’d know soon enough.

The lounge car had only a few souls left in its attendance. It, like the rest of the train, was beautiful. Windows lined the walls, and the same red carpets complemented the luxurious chairs and tables. A bar was built into the left wall of the compartment, with dozens of bottles of spirits and drinks lit from below; behind the bar, a body—but no soul. The lifeless automaton stood casually wiping a glass. It had no face, only a clean gold head. Beautiful and emotionless.

As for those in the car who could count their remaining breaths or heart beats, there was a group of young men, all handsome and in fine suits. Each sporting the confidence that the rich so unknowingly flaunt, the confidence of simply existing.

There was a woman at the bar, utterly gorgeous, with blonde hair and a red dress to match her surroundings. She sat with one leg over the other, practically teasing her own drink with the way she slowly sipped it. She met my eyes; she was the first on the train to do so. She had a hungry look. I stared back at her, face a blank mask betraying no intention. When it was clear that I was not interested in playing a part in her hunting grounds, the woman returned to her drink.

There were a few others, but none so noteworthy as the man I was there to see. Seeing his face so close, and in person, I had a strong desire to pull the gun from my pocket and empty its final chamber. End this. Quick and dirty. But I resisted the urge, as strong as it was, the fate I knew awaited him was so much worse.

I sat down in the chair opposite the man. He did not betray any hint that he had noticed me, so I took the time to take in his appearance. The man had short white hair, and though he was old, unreasonably so I knew, you could never tell by looking at his face. Money could buy so many things, after all. Youth. Time. People.

Eventually, the man, evidently deciding I was not intending to leave, ended the silence.

“Yes?”

“You’re Brian McCrathy,” I said—it was not a question.

“Mr. McCrathy, and if you are simply here to tell me things that I am already well aware of, you are free to go.”

“I don’t suppose you remember me. I mean, why would you, right? I was never more than a name on a list to a person like you.”

This statement captured the man's attention; for the first time, he looked up from his tablet and began to study my face.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Gabriel.”

“Alright, Gabriel… should I ask how it is that one who was only ever a name on a list, managed to board a vessel such as this?”

“It would probably speed up the process,” I said.

“And what process would that be?”

“We could call it a transfer of knowledge.”

Mr. McCrathy studied me, drinking in the details of my placid face.

“What is it you want?” he asked after a long moment.

I continued to sit emotionless. “I had what I wanted. A lot of us did. We were content. It was you who wanted more than you already had.”

At that, Mr. McCrathy went to stand. “I won't sit here and be lectured by some disgruntled ex-employee. I haven’t the foggiest idea whose dick you had to suck to get aboard the Nebulous, but I certainly hope it was worth putting yourself in my line of sight.”

“Have you seen the stars?” I asked.

“Have I? Are you right in the head—"

“You’ll see they’re not quite how they’re supposed to be. Smaller even. Different than anticipated. Though, I suppose in the end, everything will be.”

At this, McCrathy laughed, cold and cruel, but continued to leave. “That sounded like enough of a threat for me to have you arrested. We’ll see if you’re still so coy tomorrow—"

“You won't be arriving tomorrow morning,” I say simply, still looking out the window.

This was the first time Mr. McCrathy he seemed uncertain. “Come again?”

“The train is off schedule.”

“The train is never off schedule. It’s impossible.”

I didn’t say anything but looked up at Mr. McCrathy in a sort of pitying way, eyebrow raised and, despite my best efforts, a small smile creeping along my face. It was then that Mr. McCrathy sat back down. Slowly, as if still wanting to appear in control, and that he was sitting down for no other reason than he wished to.

“Who are you?” he asked, this time his voice more of a growl than anything.

“It must really kill you to be in this position, am I right? A person like you pays to know everything. To not know what in the heavens is going on… God, it must just kill you.”

Mr. McCrathy slammed his hand down on the table. The sound of it crashed around the car, drawing the eyes of the few remaining occupants. “You’ve had your fun, but you better stop being coy with me, man! I’m a moment away from summoning the captain and having you thrown in a locked room.”

I looked him straight in the eye just then, and said very simply, “the captain is dead. I killed him.”

“You’ve no idea what you’re talking about. Do you have a screw loose, man?” he snarled, then he seemed to come to some conclusion on his own. “Oh, I see. It’s money. That’s what you’re after. Thought you’d play train robber, eh? How quaint.”

I had to fight the urge to laugh. “Of course, your mind would go to money; why wouldn’t it? It’s solved all your issues before, right? Well… Brian… I hate to tell you, but money will soon be the most worthless thing on this train. In fact, for you, it will become the single most useless thing in the cosmos.”

Mr. McCrathy went very quiet. I decided I’d continue on.

“I changed our course,” I explained. “Two degrees… that’s all it took. Two degrees and a bit of time. Do you know how fast this train travels? It’s over a hundred and forty-four thousand kilometres per hour. Pretty impressive. State of the art, they told me—"

“They…? who’s they? Someone hired you to do this?”

“Of course, someone hired me to do this.”

“Who!? When I get my hands—"

“Have you not been listening? “When I get my hands,” I say as mockingly as I can. “You’re off course… you’re never getting your hands on anyone, get it?”

“You’re bluffing...”

I didn’t even acknowledge that with words, only a smile. Then I said, “after only ten days, you are already over a million kilometres away from your destination. With the speed boasted by the Nebulous… no one will ever be able to intercept you in time. This train is now your coffin, tomb, and cemetery.”

A long silence passed, and I relished it. Soaking in the frustration and confusion that Mr. McCrathy tried so hard to hide as he considered the situation.

Eventually, he did speak again. “Explain who you are in all of this. If what you say is true, this isn’t only my grave but yours as well. You implied that someone put you up to this; why not just send a message? Why you?”

I paused; I really hadn’t expected a man with so much self-interest to inquire about me. I did, however, have a reply ready.

“Because I hate you. Because I want you to suffer. I am here to deliver you to that suffering.”

“But so are you,” countered Mr. McCrathy.

I smiled fondly, my mind no longer on the train but very far away. “Yes. But I will die knowing that for a simple act of deliverance, my family will want for nothing. I can give them back the life you and people like you took from us. I can do it all with a smile.”

Mr. McCrathy looked on the verge of punching me, and perhaps he would have—if he didn’t still have more questions.

“You still haven’t told me who.”

“Does it matter? Knowledge won’t save you.”

“Then, for peace of mind.”

“Why in the heavens would I offer you that? Haven’t you been listening? All of this, all the people on this train who will suffer—it’s all because of you. Because of the decisions you made, and the lives you ruined.

“Surely, they aren’t innocent in all of this, no one who is legitimately on this train could be, but you, Brian, are the most guilty. There is no hope of rescue; the very peak of human achievement is what has doomed you. You could try and rewrite the virus I installed, but you don’t have access to the terminal or the time it would take to write such a code, not before you run out of food.

“And that will happen. Food might be plentiful now, but given a month? Maybe two? I tell you this now, so that each moment before it arrives, you dread it’s coming. You’ll bare witness to the very worst of humanity. Do you know, Brian, what happens when you run out of food, but there’s still meat, on board? You will see how all of you at the top tumble so quickly when pushed to the brink. You will never run out of oxygen or water… so your death will be slow, and painful.”

And then, before Mr. McCrathy could say a word or even draw a breath, I took the pistol out of my pocket, said, “good luck,” then proceeded to point the gun at my own head—closed my eyes, and pulled the trigger.

The End.

Sci Fi
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About the Creator

J.R.Karlen

Just a humble book peddler and wannabe writer

https://jrkarlen.com/

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