The Soul Conductor

Before being formed in the belly, you knew me, and I knew you were of many names. Now and then, you reminded me of the purpose of my journey. Before each stop, I had to remember. But, this time, I didn't forget. The best way I can explain what I experienced goes something like this.

First, there was darkness. Then, there was the flicker of light. I felt the steady tremor of movement from underneath my seat and could hear steel grinding outside my window. The only thing I could see outside the glass was a black and white static. Then, suddenly, I heard what sounded like the horn from the train. I turned my head and realized I was sitting inside what looked like a New York City subway cab. Two rows of seats faced inward toward a walkway aisle with grab rails that divided them. Other than what was going on outside of the windows, everything else almost appeared normal.

'Ah, shit…' I thought, 'I must've blacked out or something… I don't remember getting on a train….' I looked around the carriage for any other clue on where I was or where I was going and found it odd that I was the only passenger. I blew it off. Maybe others were in a different cab, and I picked the darkest one with broken lights. I guessed it was the perfect place to sleep, and then I started to wonder about the last thing I did that got me in this situation. Many people black out from drinking, but I don't remember doing anything like that.

Maybe I was a sleepwalker? No. That didn't sound like me.… wait… 'who is me?' The thought of not remembering who I was made me chuckle slightly. 'Of course, I know who I am. I'm.… I'm…' My thoughts trailed off. It was as if the harder I tried to remember, the more my mind became blank. I planted my hands around my face as I looked out the window before I realized I'd get a better picture on an old television screen with no signal. 'Of course, I know who I was. I just need some time!' I search for any identification that might've helped, only to find nothing.… not even a train ticket. 'If this is a subway, maybe I don't need a train ticket… but I should have an I.D..' I saw that the door to the next cab had a neon sign just above it that read, 'Journey of the Soul,' and just above that was an intercom box that was barely visible in the dark.

When the second horn sounded, I decided I needed to explore and find out where this train was taking me, and maybe along the way, I would remember who I was and how I could get back home. I wobbled when I first got up and immediately thought of a baby's first steps and the proud parent watching over from a distance. Despite how dark it was, I could see where I was going with the faint light from the windows. I caught the grab rail just as I started to fall. Was I tipsy? I didn't feel the slightest sign of a hangover and was sober as far as I could tell.

'What was I doing? Where was I going? How did I end up here?' I couldn't stop thinking. 'I know… that there's somewhere important I need to be,' I started to recall the vague feeling, which fueled my desire to pull myself up and continue toward the door. Someone was waiting on me back home, and there was no time to waste.

Just before I touched the handle, a high-pitched ringing of the intercom above my head startled me.

"Welcome back, my dearest passenger. I'm so happy you're finally awake! How'd you sleep? Tell me all about your dream." Your voice sounded way too excited when I first heard you. As if I was a grumpy teenager on an early school day morning and your parental tone was the last thing I wanted to hear. Wait, Parental? I didn't know why I felt that way. I had never heard your voice before in my life, and yet it sounded as familiar as my inner thoughts.

After I gathered myself, I was still barely able to grasp who was talking to me or where the voice was coming from before I looked up at the culprit and asked the first thing I could think of, "Who — who are you?"

"Why I'm the conductor of this train you are on, silly. My job is to help you get to where you need to be."

"And where are you taking me, exactly?"

"That is entirely up to you to discover where you're going, and I'm going to help you get there."

"Where are we?"

"Where you currently are is not as important as where you're going."

"Can you take me home?"

"And where is home, exactly?"

"I don't know. I don't even know how I got here."

"You are where you need to be. Now it's up to you to figure out who you are and why you're here." After you said that, I heard the intercom disconnect.

"Wait!" I called back, but you didn't answer, "What the hell just happened? Did he just —" I thought about it for a moment… 'or were that a she?' I couldn't tell if it were a man, woman, young or old. You sounded as vague as that unknown train headed toward that unknown destination. Yet, there was an air of authority when you spoke. I needed answers, and you weren't as helpful as you should've been, so I slid open the door and stepped into the next cab.

The third horn sounded and echoed through the room, where I was pleased to find working ceiling lights, but nobody else was still around. Instead, there were outfits sprawled along the seats and floors where people would usually be if there were any in attendance. Leggings hung off the chair and their tops laid against the slat with shoes, sandals, and outfits in the aisles around the grab rails. Each outfit appeared to have a different style from a different era.

One outfit belonged to an 80s Hip Hop break dancer from the streets of Brooklyn. The blue denim jacket and matching patchy jeans revealed that she was a street performer with stage experience. She was born to shine and share her creativity with the world. Right next to that was the armor of a 1600 Japanese samurai warrior. The cracks in his armor revealed a man who had significant victories in serving his family. He was born to protect the ones he loved. How did I know this? It just came to me.

The loud screech from your intercom startled me once again.

Asshole.

"Greetings, my dearest passenger. Welcome to our personality department. Is there any particular culture, period, or storyline you might fancy?"

"Personality department? You mean clothing….?"

"Personality… clothing… feets, and fetishes — all the same thing — all of which help you along the way. It's a big world out there. Can't imagine how quickly you might catch a cold walking around a city naked."

"Yes, that would be quite… odd — never mind the staring people… speaking of which, do these clothes belong to anyone?"

"Why, of course! They belong to you!"

"To me? I've never any of these clothes in my life. They're from different parts of the world and periods.… are you saying I'm some sort of actor?"

"In a way, yes."

"That must mean I'm on my way to a performance."

"A performance of a lifetime."

"Are we talking Broadway… Hollywood?"

"All of which would be correct…."

"Wow…" I thought for a moment of all of my adoring fans. What if I was some sort of movie star whose films were known worldwide? The problem was as it had been since the moment I woke up, my memory. Even if I were a famous actor, it wouldn't help if I couldn't remember my name. "What's my name?"

"You still don't know who you are?"

"Well, no. Something happened to my memories."

"Well, you better find out then." I heard the click.

"Wait — not again." I hated you for not telling me. I kicked a pile of clothes on the floor, and before I knew it, I was a baby held by my mother. I couldn't make out her face, but she told me she loved me. It was another memory, but this one was mine. I had to get back. I had to return to the people who loved me.

I moved around the other piles of clothes lying in my way. If you weren't going to give me any answers over the intercom, then maybe face-to-face. Once I got to the door, I slid it open and hoped there would be someone else on the other side and what I found was even stranger than the one I left.

The fourth horn sounded and lightly shook the cab of life-sized doll passengers. Well, I'd hardly call them dolls because, other than their human figure, they had no detailed features or clothing. They were as void as dummies having only different shapes and sizes. Some sat as if reading the local paper that wasn't in their hands and others stood holding onto the grab rail. One, in particular, caught my attention and appeared to be staring out the window.

The intercom shrieked. This time I didn't react. I think I was getting used to your timing.

"Welcome to the meat bag department, my dearest passenger… get it? Meat bag? Anyway, I noticed you've chosen an outfit that you fancied. Look at you…."

"What?" I looked down and noticed the pants and shirt I was wearing were the clothes I kicked from the last cab. When did I put this on?

"Listen, mate. I don't know what sort of bloke you think I am, but this innit funny!" When did I start to talk like this?

"Oh, ho, ho — a British soldier from the early 1900s. Nice."

"British soldier… from the early 1900s? I couldn't be, could I?"

"Now, you'll need to choose a new body."

"Now, wait for just a blimey second here, mate. Body? Just what in the bloody hell is going on here?"

"People are much like dolls, aren't they? You can dress them up with different personalities and clothing, but they would be nothing without that spark, which gives them life."

I examined the dolls a little closer and noticed that other than their lack of features, they were lifelike in their skin texture.

"This is gas. I ain't supposed to be here. Let me off this bloody train!"

"Once you're ready for your next stop, the world will be yours to conquer."

"Once I'm ready? You mean, like when I can tell you who I am?" I said. I started to recall the slightest bit of memory, "Okay, I can tell you my name… my name is… John... Doe."

"Okay, John."

"And my parents… my parents are…."

"You'll discover them soon, John. That will be your next step." It said. I heard the intercom disconnect.

"My parents' names are…." Just a cab ago, I had something, but then it left me. I was frustrated but careful not to touch any of the dolls. I didn't know what would happen if I did or what it would do to me. I had all the intention to derail your game.

Once I arrived at the door to the next cab, I slid it open and what I saw on the other side was terrifying. The lights on the ceiling flickered on and off simultaneously with the window. When they were on, I spotted dark blotches of pitch black, having no different shape or form in multiple parts of the room. Shadows hovered above the seats and the grab rails, and some were near the speaker. Something about the shadows made me apprehensive, and I didn't know why. Were they dangerous? Harmful? It was too early to decide if those things would even be responsive to my presence. Nevertheless, when I stepped into the dark room, I felt the weight of the atmosphere nearly pull me to the floor in guilt, shame, doubt, fear, anger, and humiliation. This feeling made me want to turn around and never come back.

The intercom buzzed, but there wasn't the loud shrieking sound that usually came before your announcements. Instead, there was a faint buzz barely audible over the white noise. I could tell you were trying to speak to me, but I couldn't understand what you were trying to say.

"Welcome—- buzz— This is — buzz — it's important that you — buzz — in fact, without these — buzz — the train couldn't be — buzz — and you wouldn't — buzz — home — buzz!" There was a click, and I was again disconnected from you when I needed you the most.

At the flicker of the light, a shadow appeared in front of me, and I jumped back. It didn't move at first, so I stood there and tried to study it for a better understanding. Still, the more I stared into the void, the stronger a feeling of dread came over me until I was a kid whose father abandoned me at a train station in the middle of the night. I called out to him as he was driving away and waited for him to return. I already knew why he had left me.

"You're a disappointment. I raised you better than this," he said. He caught me holding hands with my best friend, James.

No.

"You're disgusting. I can't even look at you."

No!

I pulled back and fell onto the floor. I remembered where I was, the train, but that feeling was genuine. Too real. It was almost like I was there, with my.… who was that? I swear the shadow appeared closer after the next flash, and I heard his voice again. I didn't want to listen to it, so I ran back the way I came, without stopping until I ran into a group of dolls and fell onto the floor.

The fourth horn sounded like I was lying among the dolls for a long time, maybe for an eternity, and I thought there was no way I could go back into that cab. Perhaps I could've stayed there until the train stopped and someone came to get me, but the train showed no sign of slowing down as the lights from the window continued to flicker on and off.

Those emotions, I felt them before.… many times. The shadows somehow knew who I was, deep down. I was a young white woman in the 1860s who fell in love with a black man my racist parents would never approve of, only to end up pregnant with his child and later see him hanged because the love we shared was a crime. I was the dictator who sought the approval of my country and became responsible for the deaths of millions of lives. In the end, I pushed those closest to me away. I was the molested child who became a rapist, and the whore in the skimpy clothes "asked to be raped." I was the homeless man on the street corner who was once a well-respected man before I lost my mind after a drunk driver killed my family. But, as quickly as I remembered, I started to forget until I only remembered John Doe. I looked at my new hands, dirty from the field and carrying a rifle all day.

The intercom shrieked.

"Now you're just about ready for the next stop."

"My parents are Bill and Jane Doe," I said when I finally remembered who I was.

"That's right, John. Now you're starting to get into your role."

"My role? No, this is who I am."

"That's the spirit… and now that you know who you are, do you remember where you're headed?"

I paused for a moment. It seemed that all my memories hadn't returned to me yet.

"No, I don't think I can remember —"

"You'll find out very soon —"

"Wait —"

Click.

Asshole.

"I am John Doe," I chanted as I got off the floor of lifeless dolls. "I am John Doe."

I made my way back to the sliding door, and when I opened it, I saw how there were fewer shadows than before, but there were shadows, nonetheless.

When I stepped forward, a shadow appeared before me, and I was John Doe, in the fifth grade, pushed to the floor by Gregory Smith for being the smallest and wimpiest kid in class. He would tease me every day before, at, and after school, because my parents were poor, and no one did anything about it.

"I reckon you remember your place, Johnny boy. You're a worthless shit. You will do nothing. Be nothing. School won't do you any good, will it?" He said as he pushed me to the dirt. Often I took any job that I worked so hard to get. I accepted any pound from barbershop sweeping and shoe shining soon gone.

Day after day, it went like this until I had enough.

"Enough!" I stepped forward and pushed him back. The shadow disappeared, and I stepped forward until another one appeared, and I was a soldier in World War 1. The Germans had us surrounded on the beach at Dunkirk. During the evacuation, the enemy fired my unit at sea. Some men accused a French soldier of being a spy and outing our location. We voted him to be the one to risk his life for us. He was to peek outside and risk being shot to see if they were still in the enemy's scope. That skinny French soldier also happened to be the one who shared his food with me when I was starving earlier that day, and there I was, too afraid to speak up for him when they voted him out. When he left, I heard the bullets and listened to his body drop.

"Why didn't you help me?"

I took a step back, and then two other shadows appeared, and I was suddenly reading the newspapers hailing us as heroes. I felt heavy in my stomach when I remembered that young French soldier around my age. What about his parents?

"How could you let him die?" They told me, "You're a monster!"

"I know!" I fell to my knees.

I remember when I first started to drink. I was just trying to forget, but it became my way of escaping. I used alcohol to escape problems in my marriage, with my kids, at my job, and with my finances. I kept running until I hit a brick wall and lost everything. Then, I remembered looking at the bottom of my empty bottle and thought I was at a dead end until I heard that subway train.

"I remember… how could I forget? I used to find it hard to forgive myself…." Suddenly, as if a switch came on, I also remembered what that soldier said when he gave me his last ration, "I have to be strong… this moment can't last forever. I know I can't change what I could've done, but I can change what I do moving forward." I took a step. "That's what this journey is all about, innit? Learning from my past mistakes and turning them into lessons for my future?" I moved through the shadows, and before I knew it, I was at the door.

A bright light shone from the other side when I pulled it open. Once it lit up the room, I looked around and couldn't find a single shadow. At first, I thought I might've needed to cover my eyes, but I figured I didn't need to. The light shined brighter than the sun's, but I could still see.

The 6th horn sounded and out drowned out the shrieking of the intercom.

"Welcome, my dearest passenger," Your voice beamed through the speaker.

When I stepped into the next cab, I noticed the room didn't need the usual light from the train. A constant warm glow came from the other side of the glass, and as much as I wanted to throw myself through it, I knew I couldn't. As I moved up the aisle, I could hear the sweet melody of my beloved. It sounded like the taste of my grandmother's homemade country apple pie on a Sunday afternoon. It felt like childhood, laughing with my cousins in the summer garden just as the sprinklers gave us a surprise shower to cool us down. It was love at first sight and the courage to ask my first crush out to prom night. It was when she said yes.

"You're almost there. Your next stop is merely a cab away. I think it's time you remember what this is all about."

"Oy," I hated my accent. "Can't I just stay here a minute?"

"Of course, you can. You can stay here as long as you'd like, but in staying here, you'll never reach fulfillment. You'll always look out the window at something that isn't yours until you find it yourself."

"How do I do that?"

"That, my dearest passenger, is coming up." When it said that, I heard the intercom click and the next door to the next cab opened by itself.

The 7th horn sounded just as I entered the next room, where there were no windows of light. Instead of windows, there were mirrors. I looked at my reflections and saw myself as if for the first time, and it was not what I expected.

"What's this then?"

"It is who you are." This time I could hear your voice from behind the next door. No shrieking of the intercom was needed. "You are not your doll body, and you are not the outfit of your personality."

I saw not John Doe in the mirror but a dim ball of light in certain places. I looked at the dull spots with curiosity and saw how they blemished my shine.

"What's all this?"

"That is why you are here. Your job is to remove the darkness within you."

"How?"

"Shine, my dearest passenger. No matter where you end on this journey, you must let your light shine and never be consumed by the darkness." When you said that, I heard the final horn, and the train started to slow. "For even in the darkest of nights, the sun rises in the morning."

"Will I ever shine as brightly as you do?"

"Of course you will! And when you do, you will join me. I will even let you steer the train if you want."

"And then what?"

"And then I can finally bring you home."

"Where is home?"

"That is for another trip."

"What about the others?" I asked when I remembered how no other passengers were on that train.

"There are no others. There is only you. You're the only one on this journey, always were, and always will be.… the only passenger." When you said that, the side door opened, and I could see John Doe's life was about to begin. "You have arrived."

I don't think I ever told you.…

Thank you,

John Doe