Tales from the Cloudbound Express

An ocean of clouds, big, fat, beautifully fluffy clouds, filled the early morning sky, painting the world rich shades of amber tinged with blue. Hal’s train car nudged between them like a fish swimming between strips of seaweed, coasting along the rickety tracks laid out by who knew, in the time before what was now. 

He only knew about the ocean from an old book he’d junked once–maybe a year ago now. Or two. Or twenty actually. It was hard to know when he wasn’t really even sure when ‘now’ was. 

A lit lantern jostled softly just outside the half opened window to Hal’s left, its light angled ahead thanks to an old mirror he’d rigged below it. It illuminated the car’s path, biting back dusk’s lazy shadows. Hal squinted at the oncoming tracks. They were dodgy in this section and caused the car to jostle as it met uneven ballasts, sending Hal bobbing up and down on the worn leather of the conductor’s seat. He gripped the steering wheel with one hand and eased the brake lever forward with the other. The clouds shifted and a sharp bend in the path became visible. 

Hal leaned into it and gritted his teeth, clutching the steering tighter. He glanced at a radar situated overhead. A green dot blinked as the old car rattled loudly, signaling a sizable convergence of junk nearby. The clouds swallowed the track ahead again, reclaiming their secrets. 

Beep beep buuh beep, came an electronic sound behind Hal. He didn’t glance back. He knew he’d find the familiar black, circular shape of his dear friend, Doggy. A human relic; during those bygone days when robots traversed the floors of humans’ homes and happily ate the dirt and debris they found there…Or so Hal had read.

“I know, I know. What can I do? Just hold tight,” Hal grunted. The muffled, unhurried whir of Doggy moving across the carpet echoed back to him. 

They were nearly on top of the green dot now. Hal yelled, “I knew we’d find something out this way!” The train car burst through a cloud, rushing past the threads of white it left behind. The radar began to beep. 

Hal cranked the brake back with both hands, pushing all of his weight onto the rusty lever. The wheelset wailed, screeching in protest. He whooped as the wheels eventually relented, grinding to a halt just as the radar’s beeping began to punish his ears. He smacked the radar’s red button, cutting off the obnoxious noise, and glanced at his companion. 

“Alright, Doggy! I’ll be back in a moment. You know the rules.” He counted on his fingers for emphasis, “One: don’t leave the train car and two: don’t leave the train car.” Hal nodded, satisfied with his instruction. Doggy simply continued his jerky, stop, twist, stop, twist movements. 

Hal grabbed a wrinkled photo off the dash and shoved it in his trouser pocket then headed for the door. He found his junking tools on hooks there. He slid goggles over his eyes and threw a satchel over one shoulder, then tried the door. It was a dense metal and required all of his strength (of which he had little) to wrestle it open. It scraped along its track until there was just enough room for him to shimmy through sideways (it was a scrawny slit).

He headed down four short steps to a platform that wrapped around the front of the car and ended at the window where his lantern hung. Hal headed to the front of that platform, pressing against the railing that served as a barrier between him and an endless fall. He searched the clouds that pressed in and occasionally waved a hand into them, stirring the air to disperse them. 

“Shoo,” he muttered. “Show me the goods.”

There was an industrial fan at the bow of the platform, bolted down beside his casting chair. But he didn’t want to risk turning it on just yet if he wasn’t entirely sure this was the spot. His train’s power source was easily drained and to be stranded in the clouds again wasn’t super appealing. 

Hal leaned over the rail directly in front of his chair, standing on tiptoes and waved both arms into the white tufts. They pulled apart briefly, allowing a glimpse inside. There was a mound of items, maybe twenty feet away, resting atop the remnants of a slanted roof. It poked through on the right side of the tracks. Something glittered at the top of its pile. 

Hal’s view vanished again as the clouds came back together. He fumbled for the faded photo in his pocket and unfurled it to see the sleek rectangle he’d been tracking. There had been something written in English around the picture once, but the meaning was lost to him now with so many of the words being too worn away to be legible. Hal knew it was another relic from his research, though, used to communicate between humans once. 

And by the clouds! That was it at the top of the pile! It was smaller than he’d expected. 

He shoved the photo excitedly back into his pocket and practically leapt into his chair (an old cinema chair he’d junked). He slapped the fan on and strapped himself in, lowering his satchel to the platform. The chair squeaked and the fan groaned, interrupting the familiar silence. 

Hal grabbed his scavenging rod from its place snug in the chair’s cupholder and eyed the mountain of goods as wind forced the clouds back. He laughed at the sight of so much wonderful junk. At the end of his rod was a magnetic claw that a button on the handle opened and closed. It was a convenient tool for junking and one of Hal’s favorite personal inventions. His tongue poked through the corner of his mouth as concentration consumed him. He lifted the rod and cast a line towards the mound. He overshot, the claw landed with a thunk on the other side of the roof. He reeled. Closer. Stopped. Closer. He wanted to avoid the claw tumbling down the slant of the roof. Inch by inch he drew it closer, up one side of the small mountain, and momentarily out of sight. 

The magnet tugged, latched onto something at the top. Hal’s breathing hitched, his lips stretching into a toothy grin. He punched the button on the rod, but tugged too quickly–too soon. 

“Oh, Bezos,” he swore under his breath as an empty claw crested the railing and dangled in front of him. 

He recast it and to his delight, it landed closer than before. Hal strained forward, eyes squinting at the goods and the pristine rectangle of his dreams atop it. He was so consumed that he didn’t notice the slight sway of the roof or the faint rumble that had joined the choir of his fan and chair. He cranked the reel at an excruciatingly slow pace. The magnet wanted to catch a million different items, but Hal leaned, this way and that, dragging it towards the top. Eventually he had it just below the rectangle. Tension tugged his shoulders together and clenched his hands tightly around the rod. 

An item below the rectangle tumbled, causing the weight at the top of the pile to shift. “Now,” he shouted just as the rectangle fell into his claw. He pressed the button on the handle and paused, collecting himself. He was hesitant to even breathe.

“That’s it,” he whispered, mostly encouraging himself. It was so close. A red light blinked on the rod near his hands, the one he hadn’t waited for last time in his excitement. It indicated that the claw was closed and an item was properly secured. 

He counted himself down just to be safe, then yanked/reeled with unrestrained anticipation. Adrenaline pumped through his veins making his movements jerky. The claw dragged down the roof slats and rushed towards him. As it got closer, he realized its grip held more than just his rectangle. 

He caught the claw in his hand and clicked the button to release its catch. Three items fell into his lap. A worn leather book, a bottle of cough syrup, and that sweet, sweet rectangle. He shrieked with glee, rocking back in his chair with his feet kicking. Hal held the rectangle up to examine it, noting its black front and back. An image of an apple was etched into the back. Some ancient symbol, no doubt. 

He held it to his ear as he’d seen in the image. Now what? He smiled, waited for…what? He wasn’t sure. He would have to research more information later. He unceremoniously chucked the cough syrup and the book into his satchel, but delicately placed the phone in his pocket. Then Hal unhooked himself from the chair and stood. He smacked the fan off then paused. Its groaning continued. 

That was strange. In fact, the groaning had turned into…growling? He looked back to where the pile of goods had rested. The clouds were stitching themselves back together without the fan to rip them apart, but not fast enough to hide the gargantuan pair of eyes glaring down at Hal. 

He hissed, “Time to go!”