Train to Outside

A distant memory echoes around your mind. A time of laughter. Of meaning. And the girl in the cornflower blue dress. The only person that made life seem natural and fun, the only escape from a world full of structure and order. You smile slightly as you slide your hand in your coat pocket and feel the crinkly pages of the pocketbook in your fingers. This is hers. Angelica's pocketbook. You can still hardly believe it, that this book, brought away by somebody who then died somewhere far away could mysteriously find its way back to you after all this time, but there are lots of things you can hardly believe at the moment. 

For instance, you can hardly believe the three words etched carefully in her handwriting on the very last page of the pocketbook. You can hardly believe that you're about to listen to those three words, and you can hardly believe that you listening to those three words means you're about to board a train going out of the only world you've ever known, the only world everyone around here's ever known, and into a dark, cold and mysterious place, where nobody lives to describe it. You repeat the three words quietly to yourself. Meet me Outside.

“Move along, you’re blocking the line.”

You jump slightly and come back to your senses, trying to remember what you were doing. Standing in a line, apparently. You see a few people in uncomfortable-looking chairs attempting to talk to each other over old, DroidGov-approved music blaring out of wall speakers. The air smells of coffee and bacon and the floor is sticky underneath your boots, despite how sterile it looks. So, you’re at a diner. After this exceptionally clever deduction, you suddenly remember someone was talking to you.

“I- sorry.” You stutter, a little too loudly. You turn around and see a tall, lean man looking at you. He gives a low chuckle. 

“Hey, it’s fine. Rough day, huh? You going to the station?”

“Uh, yeah. I am.” You fish the pocketbook out of your coat pocket and open it. A blue ticket is wedged between two pages. 

“Wait, is that a blue ticket? You’re not- you’re going Outside?”

You hesitate for a moment and look back at your ticket for the hundredth time today. You take a deep breath and try to hide the intense pounding in your chest. “I am.” 

The man’s casual smile crumbles into confusion and worry. Who could blame him? Nobody goes Outside. Nobody.

“Are you sure about this? I mean, it’s not my place to say anything. But Outside?”

But remember why you’re doing this, you think to yourself. You have to. For her.

“I have some… business there.”

“You’re a brave one, then.” Yes, you are a brave one, you try to assure yourself as you wipe a clammy hand on your coat.

The person in front of you leaves the line. Still slightly in a daze, you half-stumble forward. 

“Hello. What can I get you today?” A long shiny counter speaks to you in a robotic female voice.

“Uh, a cup of coffee. To go.”

“Identification, please.”

You reach for your wallet and tap it against a glass sensor on the counter. A triumphant-sounding noise is emitted from the machine as its colour changes to green.

“Thank you, Mr Proctor. You are eligible to receive one more non-essential drink privilege this month to redeem. Have a great day,” the machine says as the countertop slides open revealing a single cup of steaming coffee.

You take the cup, pick up your large leather suitcase and start walking out of the diner. Suddenly, you feel someone grasp your shoulder. You turn slowly and see the other man’s cold, hard stare double down on you.

“Good luck.” 

You try to look determined and not frightened out of your wits as you make your way across the street, past a pair of roaming OrderKeeper cars and to the giant double doors of the train station.

"ID: David Proctor. You may proceed." The door states as you go through.

As you enter, the noise of the bustling station immediately slaps you in the face. A massive screen projects live footage of the President, 47-DKVQ, addressing the general public from his offices. Its words are something you’ve heard before. They’re something everyone’s heard before. And yet, everyone still listens and watches.

“Greetings to the grand population of Exo Apo. As you all know, your lives have been blessed to an extent far greater than anyone else’s. You live comfortably under the perfect, well-balanced, un-corrupted structure of the DroidGov. No poverty, no sickness, no violence, no crime. You live peaceful lives without having to worry about money or the horrible things that destroy the lives of your Outside cousins, where war and criminals run rampant. Still, as a symbol of the freedom you all have, we allocated a 5th platform to go along with our other four, which you can board to leave to the Outside. But rest assured that once you leave, you will not live to return.”

Then, the President says something new. Something the public only hears on certain, very special occasions.

“Today, we will be losing another one of our citizens to the Outside. For David Proctor pre-death memorial service, we will begin by reading the List of the Lost Ones. Francis Revolt, lost on January 12, 2089. Alexander Huff, lost on December 26, 2104. Angelica Arnott, lost just last year, on August 9, 2130. And today, September 28, 2131, We will be losing our David Proctor. God rest his soul. But remember:”

You gasp a bit. It seems as if the President’s cold, yellow eyes are staring straight at you.

“There is time to turn back, and we will re-welcome you. With open arms.”

You don’t give its words time to settle into you and you start to brisk walk to platform 5. There's something eerily different about this part of the station. Although it is just as sterile and spotless as the rest of the station, there's something different. More welcoming perhaps.

An old steam-powered train is waiting on on lone track. You walk to the single open door leading into a lonely cart and take the first steps off of the shiny, bright white floors of the station and into the rusted black metal of the train. The door slides shut behind you and the train starts moving. Out of the station, out of Exo Apo, out of the only life I'd ever known. To the Outside.

And then you see a man in a uniform and a cap marked CONDUCTOR sitting on one of the empty, worn seats. This is odd, you think. No humans have had that job in a century.

"Hello?" You say, but it sounds more like a question than a greeting.

The conductor smiles. "So you got the pocketbook?"

"I- yes, how did you-"

"Angelica had me send it to you. We had to wait until it was safe, of course, I'm the only one with access both Inside and Outside, if you're caught with this, I'd be done for, but-"

Your voice is raspy now. Your breaths are shallow and it's not because of the ventilation. "Angelica's... alive?"

"Yes. All the people who have left are, David. This country is a prison. A sterile, A.I. run, horrible prison. The DroidGov is keeping us away of the very thing that makes us human. We all need a little mess in our lives, a little excitement, a little fun. They keep that from us, and force us to live overly-atructured, micromanaged lives. And they do that by keeping us Inside. They tell you you can go out, leave the place, whatever, but they lie to you, and tell you the outside world is a place of ruin and death."

You pause, taking it all in. "But isn't it?"

The Conductor smiles. "See for yourself."

And you do. The train has left the outskirts of Exo Apo, and the gate surrounding it. Beyond it is a vast grassland with wildflowers stretching out toward a small village, dotted with small houses and trees. 

The train pulls up at a small train station and you step off with your suitcase.

"Welcome Outside," the Conductor whispers to you as the doors shut once more. 

You pull the pocketbook out of your pocket one more time and examine the words again. What you wouldn't give to see her right now. You look back up and then you see it.

Through the smoke of the leaving train, a slight flicker of a cornflower blue dress.

Go on then. She's waiting for you.