Trained For a Disaster

Horace is on his back in the middle of an aisle on the train. He's just regained consciousness, and is very groggy. It takes him a few minutes to gauge his surroundings: he's on a train, and it's definitely moving. He peeks out the window in horror, watching the rocky scenery rushing past at an alarming speed.

There are others on the train. They appear to be sleeping – none are stirring. However, they look otherwise healthy, as if stuck in time. He stumbles past them and slides open the door to the next train car. He keeps going until he gets to the engineer cab, where the operator would normally sit. However, no one is there. It's just him, and the sound of tracks being swallowed up underneath.

Panic fills his chest. It grows when he sticks his head out an open window, and sees that the tracks end abruptly up ahead. With the speed of the train, and the time it takes to slow down, he fears the worst. He guesses there's about two miles at most before they drop off into a void – although it's tough to see that far ahead.

He runs back into the passengers cars, yelling and screaming for the riders to wake up. Some move a bit, but don't seem to have much energy. Horace shakes a few of them, warning of their impending doom. One woman just smiles weakly and lays her head on the man's shoulder beside her. Why isn't anyone freaking out? he asks himself.

He sits down, his heart beating rapidly. He digs deep into his brain to try and recall how he got there. He doesn't remember buying a ticket, or booking a train tour. He checks his pockets, but there is no clue except for a very small, empty bottle. He smells it, but there's no scent. And no label.

He notices a few other of these little bottles strewn about the car. They are all empty, not a drop left to taste. He picks one up in confusion, staring at some more of the zoned out faces around him. They seem to be content, but lost in another world.

Unfortunately for Horace, his own fear was growing. It was making it difficult to have clear thoughts. He only had mere minutes to get the train under control, or somehow get off it. Judging by its speed, trying to jump would be deadly.

There was no soft grass to land on next to the tracks – they seemed to be in some kind of rocky desert. The early morning sun was already bearing down, creating hard shadows. If it wasn't for the fact he was about to die, Horace would think the light was beautiful.

~

He ran back to the engineer's cab. He eyed the many controls, knowing he had to act fast. Which one was the brake? He would have to try them all.

He looked out the open cab window again. The end of the tracks were growing closer. He could see a sheer drop off a cliff. There would likely be no survivors.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, an image popped into his head. He saw a familiar man, pointing to one of the levers. He couldn't quite place him, but his presence was comforting, even if imagined. Horace opened his eyes, and the man was gone. But in front of him was the lever he had pointed at.

He grabbed it and pulled as hard as he could, and it budged. He could hear the distinct squealing noises from the wheels – they were locking! He looked out the window again and saw sparks flying from the big metal wheels. The train was still lurching forward at incredible speed, and the drop was approaching without mercy.

He held his breath, and closed his eyes. This could be it!

Memories flashed before him. The man he had just envisioned, his hand on Horace's younger shoulder. Riding on an old train. There was a woman laughing. He could see an old train station.

Then it struck him. The man he had seen was his father, as a younger man, already a celebrated train engineer. Horace had apprenticed under him. All of his train knowledge flooded back into his consciousness.

He eyed another control that was now more familiar. He figured he had nothing to lose at this point, so he pulled it. There was a loud noise, and when he looked out, he saw that his engine car had detached from the passenger cars. He was still hurtling towards doom, but the other cars seemed to be falling behind. They were slowing down!

He breathed a small sigh of relief, knowing the others might be spared. But his own survival instinct was in overdrive. He saw that the drop was about half a mile away at this point. The train brake was still fully applied, sparks flying up and invading the morning sky.

He said a silent prayer, knowing he had done the right thing. There was nothing else he could do. The drop was within about five hundred feet now. Horace held on tight to an overhead bar, as if somehow that would save him as the car plummeted.

He exhaled, possibly for the last time, as the slowing train car came to the drop. It crept over the edge, teetering. The wheels had become caught on a jutting piece of rock, holding it in place.

He looked out the window, staring down the bottomless chasm below him. He could also see the passenger cars, which had come to a safe stop about a mile back. Horace was not a religious man, but he looked upwards to thank whatever power had saved them.

Then something strange happened. He heard clapping. A single repeated clap at first, then a crescendo of applause.

~

A man then walked into the engine car. It was the man he had seen – his father! With him were a few other train officials, in uniform.

"You did it!" said his father. "I knew you could!"

They explained to Horace that this was his final test before being granted the title of engineer. There was never any danger of anyone dying – it was all a virtual simulation. The passengers were simply generated by a computer.

The little bottle he had drank was real – it was an elixir to knock him out and tamper with his memory. They wanted to see how quickly he could pull himself together and respond to an emergency. He had passed their test.

Horace stepped out of the train car, and a small crowd (including the rest of his family) was clapping. His goal of becoming a train engineer was no dream – it was a reality.