May 16, 2016

The train rushes along the track, puh tick puh tack puh tick puh tack. You, tranquil, serene, almost mesmerized, gaze at the scrubby sage brush flashing by outside. A discreet rap on the door of your compartment interrupts your train of thoughtless train thoughts.

‘Yes,’ you say.

The door opens. The conductor, hat in hands, says, ‘Pardon, sir. A bit of a problem. We were wondering if you, well, being who you are, could possibly help us with a young man, a passenger. You see, he’s gone a bit off and has barricaded himself in the baggage car with one or two hostages, we’re not certain of the number. He has these demands, you see. It’s frankly beyond us. Would you take over?’

You sigh and arise. ‘Very well. Lead on, my good fellow,’ you say. Before following the conductor out into the corridor, you don your fedora and strap on your gun.

puh tick puh tack puh tick puh tack

You listen without listening to the constant prattling of the conductor as he leads you through car after car. When he finally stops prattling and leading, he merely points to the next door and mouths ‘baggage car’. You nod and pass through the door. You are now between cars.


There is a small window high on the baggage car door. You sidle up to it, gun in hand, and risk a peep inside. A young man, wild of eye, is nodding and staring at something just inside the door to your left. You open the door. There she is.

robot helm

You die.


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