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Final Impact

Trapped on a train racing toward destruction, a young stowaway encounters an unexpected passenger.

By Larry NocellaPublished 2 years ago 13 min read
2
Final Impact
Photo by Viktor Talashuk on Unsplash

“We’re going to die here, aren’t we?”

That was the voice that woke him.

He startled. Assessed.

The current situation was non-standard.

He was sitting on the floor, inside a small storage closet.

Dusty boxes, labeled as “basic toiletries,” surrounded him.

The only light came from the doorway, where the speaking passenger stood.

Assessment indicated an age of approximately fifteen years old, likely female.

She stepped back, leaving him alone, the door open to the light.

He pushed himself to stand, knocking over the boxes.

He restored them to neat towers and followed the passenger out into the train car.

He assessed again.

The situation was non-standard.

Red lights were blinking along the ceiling.

The video screen at the front of the train car, usually a simple list of destinations, was flashing.

The words “Evacuate Now!” were displayed in huge letters in several languages.

The screen’s speed indicator, in the upper right of the display, was blinking rapidly.

It showed they were moving at 400 miles per hour.

That was approximately 650 kilometers per hour, he knew immediately, but he didn’t know how he knew that. He just did, and he was ready if anyone asked.

Outside, the landscape passed in a blur of green and yellow. Farther away, a barn and silo slid past.

Moving at this speed was non-standard.

* * *

The passenger was standing in the aisle, looking out the window next to him.

“See? That’s why they all left.”

He approached her.

“I can assure you, everything will be okay,” he said.

He didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t say anything else. Those were the only words he knew.

“You’re just saying that,” the girl answered, flopping down in a seat, facing outside. “Because you’re a droid. A walking, talking crash-test dummy. Of course, I got no room to talk.”

Her tone required attention. He could not let her speak that way and fail to assist her.

Other words were forming, tiny blurry concepts focusing. Only one other phrase was ready. He could not wait, so he went with it.

“Some call me N-13, but you can call me Norman. What’s your name?”

“Kelly.”

“Nice to meet you, Kelly.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“I can assure you, everything will be okay.”

“Is that all you know how to say?”

Again, her tone was unacceptable but required a response.

Norman had already introduced himself, so that option was blocked. None others were available so he said, “I can assure you, everything will be okay.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kelly said.

He waited as more words came into his mind.

“Well, at least I won’t die,” she made finger quotes, “Alone.”

Other responses were available now.

“I am Norman. My purpose is to ensure your safe and satisfying trip for all passengers.”

She scoffed. “That’s a problem, then. I’m not a passenger. I’m a stowaway.”

“I am here to ensure a safe and satisfying trip for all passengers.”

“You already said that,” she said. “Can you stop this train? Because we’re going to crash.”

Norman considered her words. A new response had arrived.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Can you explain further?”

“We’re going to die here,” she said. “We’re going a zillion miles an hour.”

He looked outside and assessed while she continued speaking. Their speed was indeed non-standard, but he did not know the quantity “zillion.”

“Everyone took off,” Kelly continued.

He found a phrase but before he could use it, a prerecorded voice spoke over the intercom.

“Alert. System malfunction. Collision probable in ten minutes. Please evacuate. If you cannot leave the car, secure yourself and your belongings as per train safety guidelines.”

“See?” Kelly said, pointing to the speaker in the ceiling. “I was hiding in the closet. Something went wrong and the train took off. They disconnected the other cars and by the time I came out, they were gone.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Can you explain further?”

“We’re going to die here. Well, I am. You? I don’t know.”

A new response was now available.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I seem unable to assist you. I will call customer service headquarters. Please follow me.”

He marched over to a display screen under a sign that read “Contact Customer Service.”

“I already tried that,” she said. “They’re not answering.”

* * *

Norman tapped the blank display screen. A numerical keypad appeared.

Underneath the keypad were the words, “Communications deactivated.”

“I told you,” Kelly said.

Norman’s hand went to the touch screen and quickly entered a seventy-digit code.

The screen displayed, “Emergency code accepted. Connecting to the terminal.”

“How did you do that?” Kelly asked.

“I can assure you, everything will be okay,” Norman answered.

The screen flashed and showed a scene inside terminal headquarters.

A woman was sitting at a chair, facing away from the camera, her curly hair half-way down her back.

Others were standing around her, wearing lanyards and company identification badges.

The woman turned around, and her hand went to her open mouth.

“Oh my—” she gasped.

Norman spoke.

“Hello and good day, team. I have an unsatisfied passenger here who I am unable to help. Can you assist?”

The woman rolled her chair closer to the screen and began tapping on a keyboard.

She looked over her shoulder and called to those standing nearby.

“Hey! Heads up! Everyone! We’ve got a situation on that runaway.”

The people standing behind her crowded around, all gazing into the camera, eyes wide, mouths open.

Norman knew such expressions were unsatisfactory.

“Greetings,” he said. “I am unable to help this passenger. Can you assist?”

“Help!” Kelly screamed. “I’m stuck on this train. We’re going way too fast.”

The adults on the screen stared silently.

“Uh, hello?” Kelly asked.

They erupted into an argument, talking over each other.

Kelly rolled her eyes. “Adults yelling. That crap is why I ran away from home.”

“Please be patient,” Norman said.

The adults on screen were still arguing.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s an N-13.”

“A what?”

“An N-13. Old service androids.”

“I thought they were all decommissioned. Inefficient. Creepy. Too expensive.”

“Right. And its programming buggy as hell. Maybe it was in storage or something.”

“Then how did it power up?”

“I don’t know. Maybe when we tried the remote reboot of the train car? It kicked something off?”

“I had your guarantee everyone was evacuated!”

“I don’t know how-”

“Hey! Hey!” the seated woman yelled at her arguing coworkers. “Worry about that later.”

They all silenced and turned toward the screen.

The woman spoke.

“It’s all right, baby,” she said, as if she was talking to an infant. “Honey, didn’t you hear the message to evacuate?”

“I was hiding. In the storage closet.”

“Hiding? What for?”

“I was just. I don’t know. Running away. Jumping trains. I do it all the time.”

The adults interrupted.

“How did she get past security?”

“She said all the time? What security?”

“I knew our solution was too easy. I knew it!”

The woman flailed her arm, demanding quiet. She continued.

“All right baby, we’ve got a problem. See, that car you’re on, it usually runs itself with a computer. But its system isn’t working.”

“Duh. I’ve noticed.”

“And if it keeps going how it is, it’s going to crash into the city terminal and hurt a lot of people.”

“Right. I heard all of that on the announcement.”

A man leaned forward.

“Then why didn’t you get off the train?”

The woman swatted him back.

“She’s a stowaway, Ralph, now please!”

Kelly continued. “I waited to make my move so I wouldn’t get caught. But by then you’d disconnected.”

They stared at her.

Norman was having trouble following the conversation. It was all very non-standard.

One bit of good news was that all the words had formed in his mind. There were no more blurs.

No more words were coming, but Norman was at his full capacity for speech, and that meant he could deliver excellent customer service.

“We can’t stop it,” the woman continued. “And if it hits the terminal, it will hurt a lot of people, so we can’t let that happen.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Kelly said. “My parents get that tone, too.”

Norman knew as well. The tone was not acceptable. But he could not help HQ. He said nothing.

Tears were sneaking down the woman’s face. “That’s why we’re sending another train to collide with it outside city limits. That way no one gets hurt.”

“No one except me, right?”

“You weren’t supposed to be there, kid!” The adult named Ralph yelled at her.

“But I was. And I am. Now what do I do?”

The adults were arguing again.

“Can she jump?”

“At 650 kph? 400 mph? There would be nothing left.”

“Call off the interceptor car? Have it detour?”

“it’s got to get clear of the city. The collision happens too close, just as bad.”

“Can we get the N-13 to hack the system?”

“Impossible. Those things are useless. Can you get a calculator from 1970s to hack a computer today?”

The voice in the train’s intercom interrupted.

“Alert. System malfunction. Collision probable in five minutes. Please evacuate. If you cannot leave the car, secure yourself and your belongings as per train safety guidelines.”

The adults were silent. Tense.

“It’s one life for thousands,” Ralph said. “We all already signed off on this.”

Kelly watched as they all nodded yes. Even the woman who had been talking to her. She bowed her head.

Ralph reached over her shoulder and leaned in close to the screen.

He turned back to face the others.

“Is this thing recording?”

“No. Why?”

He turned back to the camera.

“Sorry kid. Maybe stay away from where you don’t belong.”

The screen went dark.

* * *

Kelly stared at the blank screen.

“Were they able to help you?” Norman asked.

“No. I told you. We’re going to die here. Well, I guess you’re not. You’re not even alive. But they probably have a copy of you somewhere.”

She walked to the back of the train car.

The door was locked.

She pulled a thin piece of metal from her pocket, worked it into the latch and pried the door open.

“I must warn you that is not allowed.” Norman said. “That behavior is non-standard. Sending signal to security.”

Kelly was through the door and didn’t hear him.

She was standing on the back deck, a metal mesh platform just above the gravel between the tracks. The wind whipped her hair.

On the horizon, the barn and silo were gone. One-level buildings of a small town’s center slid by. The skyscrapers of the city stood hazy in the distance.

Norman came through the door and stood on the deck with her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You are in an unsafe area. Please return to your seat. If you need help—”

Kelly ran back inside to the storage closet. Norman followed.

She pulled a broom out of the closet and returned to the back deck.

“Hold this,” she said to him.

Norman checked his database. Holding a broom was non-standard, but not against regulation.

He held the wooden handle.

“Now lower it,” Kelly said.

He lowered the handle, until it stuck the gravel surface rocketing by beneath them.

Norman’s arms shook, and the wooden handle snapped.

“Damn it,” Kelly said. “It’s not strong enough. Need something metal.”

She took the rest of the broom from him and tossed it. It struck the ground and shattered. The pieces bounced, keeping pace with the train, then falling back.

“That’s going to be me if I jump,” Kelly said. “Pieces rolling down the track.”

The intercom spoke again.

“Alert. System malfunction. Collision probable in three minutes. Please evacuate. If you cannot leave the car, secure yourself and your belongings as per train safety guidelines.”

“I see why they stopped making you,” Kelly said to Norman. “What are you good for?”

Norman turned to her.

“I am a service android N-13. I may look human to you—“

“You don’t,” Kelly said.

“But I am just plastic over a frame. My purpose is to ensure a safe and satisfying trip for all passengers.”

They stood on the back of the car, the wind lashing around them.

Inside the car the prerecorded voice sounded. “Collision imminent. All passengers brace. All passengers brace.”

Kelly lay on her belly and reached down to the gravel. She looked up at Norman.

“Hey, uh, Norman? Can you reach the ground?”

“This is non-standard situation.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. But um, if you want to help me have a satisfying trip, you’ll do it.”

Norman lay face-down like her and stretched his arms ot he gravel surface below.

His arm was longer than hers, and his synthetic hand struck the gravel, cutting a trench in the dirt, spraying a plume of dust behind them. Norman clamped his free hand around the deck's safety rail.

The bolts holding the platform in place groaned.

Friction heated up Norman's arm. The fake skin turned red, then melted in a cloud of smoke.

Then the metal beneath warmed orange, red, white. The sound of the rock on metal squealed, stabbing Kelly’s ears.

She looked through the train car to the screen at the front.

The speedometer blinked, then dropped from 400 to 385 miles per hour.

Norman sat up, his arm gone below the elbow joint. The end was mangled, melted, and smoking. The burning stink stung Kelly’s nostrils.

“Sit like this,” Kelly told him. She sat on the back platform, legs dangling off.

“That is a non-standard request.”

“I told you. It will help me have a good trip. Come on! Hurry!”

The intercom voice inside the train spoke again.

“Collision imminent. Brace yourself.”

“I can assure you, everything will be okay,” Norman said.

He sat on the back of the railing, his remaining arm holding the railing, dropping both legs into the gravel.

The skin burned off quickly, leaving two shafts of metal heating quickly through a spectrum of yellow, orange, red, white. A plume of spitting gravel and smoke kicked up behind them.

Kelly glanced back at the speed on the screen.

350 miles per hour.

“Keep going, Norman!” she said.

“Brace. Brace. Brace.” The intercom said over and over.

300 miles per hour.

“I hope I am providing you with excellent customer service,” Norman said.

“Oh, you are! The best!”

250 miles per hour.

“My entire purpose is to provide you with a safe and pleasant journey.”

The landscape around them was clearer as they slowed.

200 miles per hour.

Kelly readied herself. Her train-jumping instinct told her it was still way too fast.

150 miles per hour.

Norman’s legs were down to white-hot metal shafts, turning the gravel to ash.

100 miles per hour.

“Now or never,” Kelly yelled and backed up.

75 miles per hour.

“Is there anything else I can help you with today?” Norman asked.

Kelly jumped. She clamped her arms on either side of her head to protect her skull. She landed on her feet and tumbled.

The impact hurt. Something in her leg snapped. She exhaled involuntarily, her breath squeezed from her.

She rolled and stopped. The adrenaline faded and pain took its place.

The train shot into the distance. Norman — now nothing but a torso, one arm, and a head — was still clinging to the back of it.

Then suddenly, the car stopped. For an instant, Kelly was confused. Why did it just stop? Then it vanished in a fireball.

A cloud of dust shot down the tracks. Kelly turned away, the effort sending agony through her wrenched muscles.

The shock wave lifted her. She landed, gasping, and skidded across the gravel. It tore her skin away. The pain was unbearable but she finally stopped.

Breathing was agony, but the silence and stillness were beautiful.

The tall grass along the track, no longer blurred, was in glorious focus.

She passed out.

* * *

Kelly woke up in an ambulance.

“You’re lucky, kid. Damn lucky,” the med tech said to her. “That train is atomized.”

She tried to speak but her whole mouth and face hurt. She ignored the pain. She had to say what she was thinking.

“Norman said it would be okay.”

“Who’s Norman?”

artificial intelligencescience fictiontranshumanism
2

About the Creator

Larry Nocella

Writer. Books and shorts on Amazon.

Sometimes videogame developer.

Sometimes Alexa skills developer.

Full project list: www.LarryNocella.com

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Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

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