The Pluto

Welcome to The Pluto!

The aroma of cigar smoke hung heavy in the air, and mingled with the fragrances of a floral bouquet, fine brandy with a hint of lemon wood polish, and the slight odor of something burnt and chemical. The fusion of scents was an overload to Mark's senses as it abruptly awakened him from the deepest sleep of his life. He breathed in the confusing blend of smells, as he slowly came-to, unable to flutter open his drowsy, heavy eyelids. He stared at the backside of the thin, membranous skin; Seeing nothing but the glowing red hue of light that permeated through the gossamer-like veils. He focused on the spidery, crimson-colored vessels that contrasted against the glowing aura of his eyelids, knowing that the bright light would be blinding as soon as he opened them.

The disturbing mechanical sound of metal grinding speedily against metal forced him to open his eyes, finally, forcing them to fully adjust to the lighted room in which he found himself. His surroundings were strange, completely unknown to him. A cream-colored brocade curtain covered a window above his head, held firmly in place by ornate iron rods that had been forged with beautifully curved ends. Across from him, where he lay in a small-but-comfortable bed, stood a doorway closed by only a sliding panel of polished mahogany. Mark furrowed his brow, sitting up as he scanned the small cabin-like room. Confused, he grasped one side of the heavy, luxurious curtain fabric and he yanked it to the other side, sliding it open to see his environment.

"What the hell?" He thought aloud.

It was dark outside, but he could see that he was indeed in motion. The scenery outside the window whipped past him in a blur of black shadowy silhouettes, which went by so quickly he couldn't make out whether they were buildings, trees or a jumble of both. He realized the source of the metallic scraping sound, though, as he could more clearly hear the unmistakable chugging of the passenger train with his window shade pulled open -- and he noticed the gleam of the tracks that ran alongside the machine with the smear of scenery that passed him swiftly. Mark was on a railcar, but how did he get there?

He tried to stand, but his legs were unsteady. He wobbled before dropping back down onto the bed shakily. His stomach turned with an instant wave of nausea, and he broke out in a cold sweat. His pulse thudded in his ears rapidly and his heart fluttered unsettlingly out of rhythm. He felt heavy; The kind of heavy one feels after getting out of a swimming pool and realizing that they are no longer weightless. He recognized this feeling, and it wasn't motion sickness.

Mark had been drugged.

***

The menu read The Pluto in a vintage, old western type of script. Todd glanced at it, but threw it back down on the bedside table, angrily. Todd was able to stand firmly, somewhat, but he had no confidence in his ability to trek beyond the wooden panel slider that led to the rest of the passenger area. The place was nearly silent, save for the sound of the train itself, which was traveling at an alarming rate of speed. He felt like the last man on Earth in these moments, and not in the way that he'd only half-seriously fantasized about in the past. This was a worrisome situation, and the man felt very much on the edge of panic.

Todd carefully sauntered to the sliding panel that separated his cabin from the corridor of the passenger car. It sprang open with ease when he pushed his finger on the smooth, rounded metal button on the wall. This place seemed to be quite luxurious, yet out of time in a way that felt a bit too surreal. When the panel slid open, Todd saw exactly what he expected to see: An empty, quiet corridor. Rows of cabins lined the hall on either side, with each of their wooden panel doors slid closed as his had once been.

"Hello?"

His voice echoed down the desolate corridor of the passenger car. Nobody answered back, to no surprise. He stepped out of the cabin and looked down one side of the hall, and then the other. He was close to where a back exit would normally be, but instead of a door, A black, iron wall stood in its place. He touched the cool metal surface of the wall, curious about the lack of even an emergency escape. Down the other end of the railcar's hallway, he could make out the vague frame of what looked to be a door. The distance between he and the other end of the car couldn't be more than a few dozen feet, but it might as well have been a mile with the way he felt. His muscles were weak, and he felt more hungover than he'd ever felt in his entire thirty years alive. Still, he pushed himself toward the other end of the train car, keeping himself stable by pushing his hands against the walls of the narrow passageway. The train, meanwhile, continued to speed with no signs of stopping and no evidence of any staff on hand to answer to his mounting questions.

Enjoy your trip!

The cheerful words were emblazoned across the front of a placard that stood on a tripod stand about halfway between he and the door at the end of the corridor. Todd stopped and eyed the saccharin sweet "welcome" sign that listed the train's amenities and rules. His confusion turned into pure anxiety as he read the paragraph that followed the header of the placard.

"If you're here, you've been nominated by someone who really thinks you deserve it! While aboard The Pluto you are expected to follow the rules. If any of these rules are broken, you will be restricted to your cabin until you reach your final destination. Isolation makes this journey so very unpleasant, so it's suggested that you play along and be a good sport!"

"What the..." Todd's jaw dropped open at the words he'd just read. He knew something strange was taking place when he woke up in the alien surroundings of the railcar cabin, and he feared that something sinister was to blame. The sign that stood before him confirmed those fears while answering none of the questions he had about why he was there -- much less who was behind the entire ordeal. Todd continued to read the sign in front of him, gritting his teeth as he acquainted himself with the so-called rules of the train ride.

• 1. Do not inflict any damage on the property of The Pluto.
• 2. Do not waste any food or drink while aboard this ride. Wastefulness is forbidden!
• 3. No inappropriate fraternizing with other guests.

The placard signed off with the cheerful exclamation for guests to "Have fun!" to which Todd snorted bitterly. He knew without a doubt that this was far from a fun situation, and that he had been kidnapped -- but on his life, he couldn't remember anything.

***

Mark finally felt well enough to leave the cabin where he woke up in a drugged, confused state. When he did, however, he was disappointed and frightened by what awaited him. Simply rows of empty cabins lined a dark and lonely passenger car. A doorway connected his car to another car containing cabins, and down the other side of the corridor another door stood between him and another desolate passenger car. Both doors were locked, and neither would budge when he jostled and shook them. Mark wandered up and down the dead-silent car where he knew he had been imprisoned, and he found numerous pieces of literature telling him exactly where he was.

The Pluto, a place of strict rules but no answers.

Mark struggled to remember how he might have ended up in the train, but it was as if his mind was wiped clean. Now he stood alone in the middle of an empty passenger car on a speeding train that was locked down tighter than a maximum security prison, but with the trappings of a luxury tour. The combination was wildly unsettling to Mark.

While Mark simmered in melancholy, the distinct sound of multiple automatic locks clicking filled the silence of the passenger car's corridor. Just seconds following the unlocking of the doors, multiple overhead speakers began to crackle and fizz with static from some kind of damage or interference. The fizzing and popping didn't subside when a heavily morphed and electronic voice filled the intercom airwaves.

"It's time for the meet and greet, everybody. So put on your best smiles and get to know each other. You'll be together for a very long journey, so play nice!"

The speakers cut out after the phantom speaker finished their message, and the corridor of the speeding train was once again silent. Mark hesitantly walked toward one of the doors that had been locked when he first explored the passenger car. There was no window. It was just a solid chunk of heavy iron that didn't move easily when he pulled it open. He did manage to get it halfway open, and was able to squeeze through to the other passenger car that connected to his. From where he stood just in the entrance, the next car from his was just as empty. He couldn't hear anything over the sound of the train speeding brutally down the track to its unknown destination. Mark continued walking down the narrow hall of the passenger car in search of another so-called "guest" to meet during this bizarre game. It didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for, when the angry voice of another man burst from behind the closed panel door of one of the cabins.

"Who's out there?"

The Meet-and-Greet

Todd stood on the other side of the ornate wooden panel that gave his cabin a minimal sense of security. He could hear the shuffling of heavy footsteps edging closer to his cabin, and when he called out the unknown person stopped moving. He looked around the room for something, anything, that could be used as a weapon. There were no lamps, no books, no candlesticks -- not a single thing that could be moved and wielded freely. The metal bars that held the fabric window-coverings in place were a viable option, if he felt like breaking the rules of course. The robotically disguised voice that had flooded the intercom speakers shortly before the footsteps began called this a meet-and-greet, but Todd wasn't feeling exactly social. His head hurt like hell, and he just wanted to find a way off the train that continued to speed to an unknown location. At the very least he just wanted to know who brought him to this creepy place.

"Whoever you are, just go away," He said from his side of his panel door.

"I-I-uh, Hello?" The voice of a man spoke back uneasily from the other side.

"Just go away, man," Todd shot back, "I don't know what's going on, but I know I don't want whatever the hell this is."

The other man answered again, this time more confidently and composed, "I think we're in the same club, then."

Todd slammed open the sliding panel to confront the voice on the other side. He felt no trust for any of these guests he was expected to meet in this charade he was being forced to play. The man who stood on the other side of the panel wasn't much older than he, and he didn't seem the least bit threatening. The stranger balanced himself with hand braced against the corridor wall that led to Todd's cabin. His legs were shaky, and his shoulders were slumped forward in the posture of someone passive. Nonetheless, the guy was a bit taller and bulkier than Todd and could probably hold his own if things went south. The stranger could tell that Todd was sizing him up, and so he did the same. He looked him up and down without moving from where he stood.

"I'm Mark," he finally spoke. "And I think we're the only people here."

Todd didn't feel the need for niceties, given the situation. He didn't shake the new guy's hand, and he didn't offer an introduction in return. He just shook his head at the man called Mark and snorted with contempt.

"I'm not playing this game," he stated plainly.

"I don't think we're being given a choice," Mark whispered.

Before Todd could slam his curtain angrily to end the interaction with the other man, the intercom speakers kicked back on with the unpleasant crackling and popping of the damaged speakers.

"Whispering is prohibited between guests," the distorted voice cut-in through the static. "Whispering is inappropriate fraternization. While you are aboard The Pluto you are to speak clearly and at an appropriate volume for your environment. No whispering. No shouting. This is your only warning on the matter."

"Who the hell are you? Why are we here?" Todd demanded.

The intercom speakers buzzed and sputtered, but the phantom did not respond to the interrogation. Instead, the morphed voice prepared the two men for the upcoming game; The mandatory game forced upon the guests aboard The Pluto.

"Supper will be served shortly, and our guests should be delighted to know that we have prepared a tasty mix of flavors from our menu. During your meal, we are going to play a fun and challenging game that our hosts also believe you'll enjoy."

As the robotic mystery voice ended its dialogue, the static noise of the speakers went quiet. The two men stood silently staring at one another in disbelief and confusion. Mark breathed in, then out, attempting to center himself amid the chaos. Todd brooded quietly, but his angry energy radiated outward intensely. The tension was on the verge of insurmountable, which did nothing to soothe Todd's splitting migraine headache. While the two strangers faced off in silent contemplation, the familiar clicking sound of a lock automatically releasing echoed through the passenger car. A second click followed very shortly after the first.

"Your meal is served," the phantom voice cut back in abruptly in a stream of loud, high-pitched static.

The Dining Cart

The dining cart was a couple railcars away from where the two men finally met for the first time. It was an awkward stroll that dragged on in silence, as neither of the strangers felt up to conversation. Neither of them were hungry either, but they both knew that nothing good would come from defiance -- not when they both wanted answers, at least. When they did reach the dining cart, they were greeted by a single grand table with two places set across from one another. In the center of the table sat multiple serving dishes covered with gleaming sterling silver dome lids. The place was the epitome of luxury, and was decorated to the nines. Mark and Todd stood in awe of the high-class experience that was offered to them, but remained apprehensive.

Mark was the first to seat himself at the dining table; Not because he was eager to dig into the various edible offerings, but because he was still quite unsteady on his feet, and was still very much under the influence of whatever drugs were in his system. He rested his elbows on the table and looked around the room, taking note of the various fresh floral arrangements that adorned the ends of the table as well as the sconces on the walls. Colorful arrangements of lilac, gardenia and yellow roses offered their fragrance to the luxury atmosphere.

When Todd seated himself at the table, he leaned back stiffly in his chair and stared forward obstinately. He didn't make a move to lift any of the sterling domes that covered the food, for he had no interest in seeing any of it or consuming it. Mark shared in this sentiment, and refused to touch any of the food that lay displayed before him.

Across from the table where the duo were seated, a large, glossy black screen extended from the ceiling of the dining car, down to the green-carpeted floor. The screen flickered on moments after the two men were seated, brightening the room with glowing blue light. The screen showed nothing more than a sterile blue screen reminiscent of an old computer operating system, but four small white words rested in the center.

What would you do?

Mark mouthed the words as he read them, and then glanced over at Todd who remained stubbornly turned away from the screen. The other man continued to check-out of the situation, silently stewing in his own anger. Mark remained fearful and confused, but hopeful that he could find any way to turn the tables on this ordeal -- and even though the train continued to speed for hours into the night, he intended on getting off of it at some point.

"Hello to our guests aboard The Pluto," a perky feminine voice exclaimed from the speakers of the large flatscreen monitor. "We hope you enjoy the meal our chefs took time out of their busy schedules to prepare specifically for you. Remember our very important rule against wastefulness, and make sure you finish every bite! While you enjoy your meal I want to play a little game with you!

"Please remove the cover from the smallest server directly in front of your plates to reveal your answering device. This device has an A button and a B button. Smash the right button whenever I ask you a question. It's just that easy!"

Todd grimaced.

Mark lifted the sterling dome from the small dish in front of him. Just as the woman's voice explained, a small electronic device awaited him beneath the dome of the serving plate. The little black clicker was no bigger than a dollar bill and featured two round, yellow buttons. The letter A was on the left, and the letter B was on the right. Mark grabbed the device and held it in his right hand, looking over at Todd quizzically.

"Come on," he said to the man.

Todd shot Mark a defiant glare. "I'm not doing this," he spat.

"The rules - " Mark began, but was cut off immediately by the other man.

"I don't care!" Todd slammed his fist down onto the top of the table, causing all of the dishes of food to rattle and shake loudly. "I am not doing a damn thing until someone here tells me what's going on."

"Mr. Matthews, you will do as our hosts have required, or you will be disqualified from this very generous opportunity," the woman's voice sternly declared from the speakers of the monitor.

Mark perked up, "Can you please tell us what's going on if we play along with this?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Williams but I don't have the clearance to answer that. What would you do if you found a $20.00 lying on the ground? Would you -- A -- put it in your pocket and carry on with your day, or would you -- B -- try to find who dropped it. Please eat your dinner while you answer these questions," the woman's voice responded.

Mark obediently lifted the top off one of the numerous serving dishes that littered the table he shared with Todd. He spooned out a large helping of tender roast beef before moving to the sampling of sides that rested beneath the other domed servers. He left enough food for Todd, but he knew the man meant what he said when he declared that he wouldn't be participating. Truth be told, Mark didn't want to play this game either, but he didn't see any other option. He still had no recollection of what led to him ending up on the train in the first place. In fact, he felt like he was losing the memory of who he even was. He stuffed a forkful of roast beef into his mouth and pressed the "A" button. Todd did nothing.

"If you saw a stranger walking dangerously close to an opened manhole, would you -- A -- warn them to watch their step and prevent an accident, or -- B -- do nothing?"

Mark hit the "A" button and took another bite of food.

"If you had a month to live would you -- A -- spend your remaining time alive with your family, or --B-- get revenge on the man who killed your parents?"

Mark hesitated. Something about the question felt a bit like deja vu. He pushed the A button, but felt like he actually wasn't sure of his answer. Todd stood from where he was once sitting and began pacing the room back-and-forth.

"This is insane," he muttered as he walked around the room nervously.

"If you accidentally hit a pedestrian with your vehicle while driving drunk, do you -- A -- call the police and do the right thing, or -- B -- leave the person to die on the roadside and hope nobody figures out that you did it?"

Todd stopped pacing momentarily. His demeanor changed from antsy to rigid and tense as he glanced at the glowing blue screen. Something was particularly specific about the questions they were being asked. A gnawing, heavy sensation filled the lower part of the man's gut.

"Eat your food, Mr. Matthews," the woman ordered.

Mark said nothing, but watched the man as he appeared to be in deep thought. He studied Todd's perturbed expression as he gazed at the screen in front of them.

"What's in it?" Todd finally spoke.

Mark dropped his fork in his plate after hearing Todd's words. He didn't think about the possibility that the food had been tampered with, but he was still operating through the brain fog of being drugged in the first place. He had eaten half of his plate by the time Todd brought up the suspicious question.

"If a man commits murder, should he be given the death penalty? A is yes. B is no," the woman ignored Todd's question.

Mark pondered on the question for a moment before pressing the B button. Todd continued to glare at the blue glowing screen. He hadn't answered a single question since the so-called game began. He hadn't touched a morsel of food. He wasn't following the rules.

Todd, in his angered silence, scanned the room with purpose. His stern demeanor radiated with an energy that piqued Mark's interest -- and made him nervous. Mark no longer ate the food in front of him after Todd questioned the faceless woman about what could have been put in it. He knew he was now breaking the rules by refusing to clean his plate, but he simply couldn't bring himself to eat another bite. He stared up at Todd who began to nonchalantly step further away from the table, toward the entryway that led into the dining cart.

"If a man is given the death penalty, has he -- A -- been punished for his crimes, or has he -- B -- been murdered unjustly as well?" The questions continued.

"I'm done with this!" Todd broke into an immediate sprint, making a b-line for the corridor of the passenger train that carried them to places unknown. Mark pressed the B button, as he watched the man attempt escape.

To no surprise, the familiar crackling and buzzing of the intercom speakers filled the train environment, and the robotic voice of their strange "host" addressed the two so-called guests. "Mr. Matthews, you will return to the dining cart, or you will be ushered back to your cabin for the remainder of your stay with us," the mysterious voice declared.

Breaking The Rules

Todd continued running down the corridor of the railcar that housed the dining area, and he ran until he reached a heavy iron door that connected to another car. The locks were still disengaged, so he forcefully pulled the door open before squeezing through it. He intended to reach the engine of the train. He was on a mission to find whomever was powering the speeding machine, and force them to stop the train -- or he would do it on his own. With determination Todd continued pushing through hallway after hallway of at least three different passenger cars while the train continued chugging at maximum speeds. His heart pounded so hard that it felt like it would burst through the dense bones of his sternum, and sweat poured down his face and neck, stinging his eyes while he desperately searched for the front end of the speeding train. It seemed as though the passenger cars went on ad infinitum. It was mind-twisting, the number of cars he ran through in search of the train's engine, and he was exhausted. Todd stopped, gathered his composure and then entered a cabin of the upteenth railcar through which he had run.

It was surprisingly easy for Todd to yank one of the forged iron curtain rods from the base of the train cabin's window. The heavy duty bar felt ice-cold in his hand, and heavy enough to use as a formidable melee weapon. That's exactly what he intended to use it for, when he smashed violently at the cabin window that led to the outside. It took him three or four solid swings before the window gave-way and shattered, letting in a whoosh of ice-cold wind that slammed him in the face. The frigid air stung his skin, but it wasn't the freezing air that caught his attention. When the glass of the cabin window finally splintered, a bright shock of electricity rippled throughout the fractured glass. The electrical current traveled up the heavy iron pipe he held in his hand, and zapped him. He couldn't let go of the bar while the searing hot electricity shot up his right arm and through his neck on the same side. He stood, glued to the floor of the speeding train while his body convulsed, upright, in unison with the flow of power that surged through him from the strange shattered glass of the train window. Blinding-white fluorescent light blazed through the gaping hole of the window, immediately replacing the scene of ambiguous darkness that the train had been speeding through for many, many hours. While Todd stood frozen, unable to break free from the electrical current that zapped him violently, the wail of a siren alarmed through the crackling intercom speakers.

Meanwhile, Mark stood in the entryway of the dining car. The bizarre game of multiple choice questions had long-ended, and the food that had been served to the two men lay on the table mostly untouched and as cold as the air that flowed through the train. He heard the smashing of glass just moments before a loud siren-style alarm burst through the intercom speakers. He knew, obviously, Todd had gone on some kind of rampage through the train after fleeing from the dining car -- and breaking the rules was indeed triggering some kind of consequential event. Mark stood still, tempted to leave the dining car to see what was happening, but the wailing of the industrial-sounding siren troubled him.

"Mr. Williams, please remain seated. Once Mr. Matthews is returned to his cabin, you will be free to continue through the program," the woman's voice calmly echoed from the monitor behind him.

"Program?" Mark raised an eyebrow as the familiar tugging of anxiety gripped his guts.

A sizzling sound reverberated through the train, similar to that of the intercom speakers which continued to buzz and pop above Mark's head. Flashes of bright-white light flooded the dining car, creating the pattern of a comically slowed-down mirrorball with the shifting from soft darkness to stark illumination.

"Subject number V-A-D-O-C-dash-77388B has been eliminated from rehabilitation project P-L-U-T-O on April 14, 2022. Time of death recorded at thirteen hundred two-six. Status: Rejected."

Mark froze at the announcement that broadcast over the intercom. The robotic voice glitched in and out during this particular announcement, cutting in-and-out with each flash of white light that glowed from the hallway of the speeding train.

"Subject number V-A-D-O-C-dash-77488A has been promoted to the next level of project P-L-U-T-O. Recorded April 14, 2022, thirteen hundred two-six. Status: Approved," continued the distorted announcement.

"Congratulations, Mr. Williams," the woman's declared from the blue-glowing monitor. "You have exhibited exceptional potential for rehabilitation, and can graduate to the next level of the program," she added."

The sounds of digital interference filled the air alongside the crackling and buzzing of the intercom speakers. Mark's legs felt rubbery as he tried to stand from the table again, and the familiar feelings of intoxication washed over his entire body. He looked up at the once-blue monitor to see that it had somehow transformed into a widescreen viewing window. He clenched his eyes closed tightly and clenched his fists, desperately trying to push away the radiating nausea that rippled through him. The motion of the speeding train intensified the twisting feeling in his stomach. The dining car room began to spin.

"Subject number V-A-D-O-C-dash-77488A, please relax until we come to a complete stop. Once we are stationary, you will be refitted for the next phase of the program," the woman's voice instructed.

"Wha-?" He was woozy, unable to move from where he was seated. His back pressed weightedly against his chair as if he was being pushed against it by an unseen force. The dining cart room had transformed into a sterile, white clinical environment that was completely unrecognizable to him. The room continued to spin with Mark planted firmly in place. Confusion flooded his already hazy mind, and his throat locked up. He was unable to speak, unable to call out. He could only watch the room spin round and round while the continuous screeching sound of train breaks invaded his ears.

The horrendous sound of metal-against-metal finally stopped scraping as the train appeared to come to a stop. No longer was the clinical room spinning around Mark, but he remained glued in an upright position against his seat. When the spinning came to a final end he found himself facing the widescreen window that had earlier replaced the monitor. He couldn't tell if he was hallucinating in this moment, or if everything that happened leading up to it was part of an elaborate trip. He drowsily gazed into the windowed room, widening his eyes at the appearance of a tall blonde woman. She was clad in a white doctor's coat, and held a clipboard in her hands. Observing Mark, her eyes met his before she turned away uncomfortably.

"Mr. Williams, your first round was successful," the voice of an unidentified man spoke through the speaker of the window. "Considering your conviction, I am very impressed with the results. You're the first subject to pass the first round of this program."

"I don't understand," Mark answered groggily. "What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Williams can you tell us what day it is?" The voice of the woman sounded mildly concerned.

"N-no."

"I see. Can you tell me your mother's name?" She asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Mark was taken aback by the question. He knew his name was Mark Williams. He knew he was thirty-eight-years-old. He knew that he was a call center manager for a technology firm in Charlotte. He couldn't remember his own mother's name.

"I can't remember," he answered.

"Can you remember why you are here today?" The man asked the question this time.

"No."

"Mr. Williams, you agreed to take part in this program as a last-resort attempt at correcting your criminal behavior. Do you understand?" The man added, "If you don't remember why you're here allow us to show you."

"Subject #V-A-D-O-C-dash-77488A, Mark Allen Williams; Conviction date October 25, 1997. Conviction: seventeen counts of aggravated murder in the commencement of a terrorist act. Sentence: Death by lethal injection."

"Seventeen innocent lives were lost the day you planted that explosive on the railroad tracks in Virginia. You say you have no memory of this, but I have a feeling you still have a little something left locked behind those thoughts of yours," he continued.

Mark stared ahead at the observation window in disbelief. The speeding train had all been part of a controlled simulation, right down to the movement and sounds. Still clouded by the drugs in his system, he tried to dig through his memories to find even an inkling of the actions he was convicted of committing. He remembered nothing of the crime. He remembered nothing of a trial or conviction. He didn't remember agreeing to be part of any type of program, either. Through the haze of his confusion, he barely noticed the hiss of compressed air leaking into the room.

"Prepare for the second phase," the man ordered through the speaker.

Mark tried to breathe but struggled against a noxious gas that began to fill the room around him. Unable to move, unable to speak, he felt himself slipping back into unconsciousness.