The Other Side: A Second Chance

Chapter 139: Train to Belpre

The time it took for us to get our tickets and board the train to Belpre had taken almost no time at all, it seemed. The infrastructure on which the magrails ran was strict, timely, and seemingly ran nonstop. The speed at which a train would pour in, people then boarded, and it left was a minute at most, from what I could gather. When my father told us the train would arrive a little after one, we got our tickets from the booth, and it showed up exactly on time.

Seeing a magrail pull up so close was gut-wrenching. I should be clear that this wasn’t my first encounter with one of these metal monstrosities. Since arriving in Iona five years ago, I’ve been on these machines well over a few dozen times when traveling across the midwestern region. Having a visit with Anne and her family, traveling with Varis to the provincial capital, New Jorvik. However, that didn’t remove the feeling of seeing a multi-ton metal monster barreling toward you, suddenly stopping at an unnatural pace.

Magrails are what bullet trains dream of being, from what I’ve learned from Oscar, who apparently used to work on them at an old job. They were trains powered by an archeo device known as a magranium engine, kind of like a very, very small-scale version of the large pillar of magrite that powered the city back in Johanneson. He explained to me, in layman's terms, that the train is programmed to essentially envelop the entire wagon, and what’s connected to it, in a cloud of ether that levitates a couple of meters off the ground. To keep it anchored, there’s a track that’s laid out before it, which then guides the train back or forward, allowing it to move at speeds far greater than any dragon could muster. Theoretically, he told me there isn’t a cap on how fast a magrail can go, but, of course, due to the safety of the occupants on board, there are immensely strict regulations, and those caught speeding are heavily punished. Which, yeah, does wonders in curbing my anxieties.

So far in this world, I’ve never heard of any accidents or tragedies involving these amazing machines during my lifetime. Let's just hope I won’t be here to witness history.

Following my brother and father, we boarded the train and traveled about three cars down before finally taking our seats in a small cabin isolated from everyone else. It was tight, but comfy. When I took a seat, the window was immediately to my right; across from me sat both my father and my brother, and a table, folded against the window, could be pulled down for work or food. The seats were a nice, cushy red leather, the wood a contrasting dark brown. The overall environment just screamed maximum comfort. What always amazed me, too, was the music that somehow played inside these.

I’ve only witnessed these devices a handful of times. An archeo is simply known as a projector. Like a caster in a way, these little magic items allowed for the projection of sound, kind of like an echo communicator, a form of telephone in this world, except a projector only works one way. It was a form of radio, which Oscar has confirmed to me exists in this world but is still in its early stages.

It took me a few moments to find the little archeo, but eventually I did, on the ceiling of our compartment, above the window. It was a small, blue crystal encased in metal, to prevent theft, of course. It glowed softly, and from it a jazzy song projected. A song I’ve heard countless times, “Sally Forth” by Viggo Stroth. It was a leaf-style wartime jingle, kinda like those old propaganda songs played during World War II, meant to inspire you.

Leaf music? Right, that’s something I should explain. It’s a genre that’s taken off in the past three years. A lot of music growing up, I’ve heard was very classical, typical orchestras, bands, and the like, the type of music you would go to theaters to listen to or see at parades. Now and again, merryman would travel by with their own flavor of music, some of it not always good, but you probably get the idea.

Leaf music, though, is very jazzy, as stated before. Honestly, if I went back to Earth and played a leaf song, people would probably just call it that. Old-timey Jazz. I like it, it isn’t rock’n roll or hip hop that I occasionally listened to in my old life, but it’s better than hearing another orchestra or opera.

My father, on the other hand, hates it. I could see it on his face, across from me, as his eyes and ears twitched slightly, the sound of what I think was a clarinet beginning a duet with a pianist amid a chorus.

Varis, on the other hand, was bobbing along to the music, his right hand and index finger twitching and moving as if mimicking a conductor's wand. Seeing the two opposites beside each other, I couldn’t help but smile slightly as I reclined in my seat. If they were opposites in this situation, then I guess I would be Goldilocks. I neither loved nor hated the music; in fact, it was alright background noise for the ride we would undertake.

Shortly after being seated and getting comfortable, the train’s horn sounded its departure from the station. Then, the low hum of power could be heard coming from the train’s very core. My gut would lurch slightly as the entire car began to levitate off the ground, and then, a gentle force pushed me into my seat slightly as the magrail began to move.

It was steady at first. I could see from the window the pillars of the station moving by, as well as the crowd of citizens and soldiers boarding the other cars drifting by. When we were clear of the station and the town, now visible beyond, the force being applied to me increased ever so slightly as the train began to move faster, and faster. In seconds, the outside world was a blur, trees, hills, and farms zipped by.

Once the conductor had us at our legal speed, the otherworldly force that kept me in my seat eased, and I could shift comfortably in my seat and lean toward the window. Even though I’ve ridden in these things so many times now, just seeing how fast we were going was not only terrifying but equally exhilarating. It was sort of like being on a roller coaster for me, though even then, in my old life, I’ve hated those things. I guess having four reinforced wooden walls around me and a comfy leather chair and a window were enough to keep me comfortable, or at least to provide the illusion of safety.

Seeing how fast we were going always amazed me. In Johanneson, five years ago, was when I’d first saw magrails. In general, the technology was new to Heinmarr at the time, and only a handful of the largest cities had them and were connected to the Eurion network. However, in those cities, the trains were limited in how fast they could go, which, at the time, was pretty dang fast but nowhere near as fast as the one I'm on now.

As stated, the world was a blur, and when I asked Father how fast he thought we were going, he smiled and said, “Oh, I don’t know for sure. Though I recall Elder Oscar saying these things can go up to four hundred and twenty gilos an hour.”

That’s stupidly fast. Doing the math in my head, something I really hate doing, but when converting that to freedom units, that’s about two hundred and fifty miles per hour. It was like we were in a jet skimming along the surface of the earth along a thin, metal rail on the ground. If we had one of these trains connected to Oren back home, we could travel from our small town to Johanneson in just under an hour, rather than the insane two-week journey we took all those years ago.

Archeo-technology is crazy…

You know how I’ve mentioned I’ve been plagued by dreams, if they are even that, about waking up in the Cerebellium? That’s not the only thing that’s been haunting me as of late. As a matter of fact, there’s a lot of stuff that’s been bothering me. A lot of it has to do with growing up, becoming a woman, studying, along with trying to return to having just a normal life, just a whole of nothing burgers… and that’s it.

That last word. Burgers.

Now don’t laugh, or even scoff. I know there are people out there who think I’m weird for bringing this up, but I’m serious. I know what you’re thinking, “Luna, you have a lot more pressing matters to worry about.”

And yes, you are right. But you’re wrong in one category, and that’s my personal well-being. I acknowledge the fact that my main goal, and it has been this for years now, is to figure out how to help my mother. The second goal is school, which I’ve already completed the first part of: I’ve passed Isa’s final test and moved on from her being my tutor.

But, there’s this third goal, the goal that I honestly believe should be up there next to my mother. Okay, I’m being a bit hyperbolic, but it’s dear to me. Something that I’ve only mentioned a few times, and that’s my desire for a goddamn cheeseburger. Personally, I would ask for a mushroom-swiss burger, but I doubt this world has the right ingredients to make the damn thing the way I like it. So, a simple cheeseburger will suffice.

I’m talking sesame-seed bun, a thick, juicy patty, not any of those freaking smash patties. Goddamn, no, I might get a lot of detractors for saying this, but smash burgers were a goddamn mistake. A real burger requires you to hold it with both hands, and you need to unhinge your jaw to get around it. Not some dinky, paper-thin patty fried up at some McDonald's. That’s not a realAmerican-style burger; that’s just some cheap corporate mock-up.

Since coming to this world, I’ve never once had a burger. Simply, because it seems they don’t exist. Which makes sense, the animals and plants of Earth needed to refine and craft God’s greatest gifts, but they simply aren’t here.

But Jesus, please, grant me something, anything!

My craving has yet to be satisfied, and I’ve made it my goal. To find something, anything, that closely resembles my goddamn American right to have a burger. So, I’ve been working. In between my bouts of research and studying, I’ve been shopping with my allowance and doing something I’ve neglected even in my prior life.

Cooking. If there’s one thing I’ll be brutally honest with myself about, it is that I am the world’s most aspiring chef. So far in my journey to invent this world’s burger has only resulted in my brother and father puking their guts out at least six times.

I wasn’t aware at the time that you were supposed to drain and dry the the grok chuck after cooking it. Apparently, the grease isn’t safe to ingest in large quantities for elves like us. It isn’t dangerous, but it can lead to severe tummy aches and multiple trips to the bathroom, as I’ve witnessed from my brother and father.

God, now I’m hungry. I wonder if Father will be open to the idea of stopping to get something to eat–

“Oi, Luna,” Varis barked, and I jolted as I felt his foot kick my leg.

I jerked in my seat, my eyes snapping open. I sputtered for a moment and rubbed my eyes. “Wh-what?” I asked, then yawned.

I heard my father chuckle. “We’re here, it’s time to get up.”

I blinked the bleariness from my eyes and glanced around the compartment, confusion visible on my face. When the hell did I fall asleep? I wondered, yet as I looked out the window, sure enough, I could see crowds of people of various races and colors disembarking and boarding in droves. Compared to this, the Downaway station seemed practically deserted, as the noise alone was bleeding through the sealed windows and soft leaf music.

I jerked again as Varis lightly kicked my foot. “C’mon, we can go see the sights outside.”

I grumbled. “I’m getting up, just give me a moment.” I straightened up and stretched with a groan, my lower back popping pleasantly. I sighed and pushed myself off my seat.

Father smoothed out his pants and adjusted the collar of his shirt. “You kids go on and find a spot outside to wait. I’m going to go get Ruby and the wagon, I’ll meet up with you all out front in the station in say…” He pursed his lips in thought. “Ten minutes or so I think should be fine.”

I nodded. “Sounds good to me.” I looked to Varis with a smile as he shrugged and said nothing.

“Excellent, you two don’t go wandering off too far. Belpre isn’t large, but it is dense. Before you know it, the crowds will sweep you away.” He said, opening the compartment door, "He stepped out, and Varis and I followed suit."

The station's sounds were deafening. All around us, conversations were happening, kids were screaming, babies were crying, an officer’s whistle pierced the noise, and a train’s horn echoed its departure. A woman’s voice then boomed over the intercom announcing another train’s departure and arrival times. Everywhere, all at once, my ears were being accosted.

It’s just a train station, Luna. I tried to reason with myself. This is normal. We’ve done this numerous times. This is just a crowd of people going about their lives.

That’s what they were back then, weren’t they?

“Don’t be foolish.” I could hear Rational’s voice hiss. “Back then, they were refugees; this is different. There is no danger here. We’ve gone over this.”

Another train’s horn blared, and I nearly threw myself into Varis as my heart lurched. Around us, no one seemed to care as another magrail came screaming into the station. Though its horn sounded nothing like theirs, the fighting machines, memories of what happened all those years ago resurfaced.

“Would you like me to take over?” Rational stepped forward.

Varis let go of my hand and wrapped his arm around me. He knew how I felt about large crowds, and I could feel his body tense as well as we walked forward. As we moved, I considered Rational’s offer, but eventually rejected it.

No. I can do this. I have to do this. You’re right, this is just a normal crowd. Just a normal crowd.

I repeated this over and over in my head as my brother helped guide me out of the station. When we walked through the open doors and out onto the front steps of the building, the crowd, while still present, dispersed slightly, creating gaps and room to breathe.

Varis guided me over to a set of decorative bushes that served as a divider along the center stairs leading to the entrance, and we both sat down on the stone edging beside them. “Are you okay?” He asked. “How’re you feeling?”

“I feel like I still hate crowds,” I said, half-joking, and chuckled and glanced around and frowned.

The stone sign above the station’s entrance arch read, “Central Belpre.” While that alone was to be expected, what I didn’t expect was what was beyond that, across from us.

“Small town my ass,” I muttered as I looked to see the sprawling mass of buildings across the street. Multistoried apartments and offices, not too similar to Johanneson, could be seen. None as vast as the other, but still, the expectations Father had set were far off from the truth.

Varis followed my gaze and sighed. “Pa did say the last time he was here was half a century ago,” He said and smiled faintly. “But hey, just means more for us to explore, right?” His smile broadened.

I anxiously gripped my skirt and sighed. “I’ve just had enough of big cities…” I grumbled, and my brother nodded slowly, draped an arm around my shoulder, and pulled me close.

“I understand, Luna. But hey, just know that soon we’ll be hanging out with Momma and Mr. Rosewall. At most, we’ll only be here for a couple of days!” He said.

I took a deep breath and smiled. For being an asshole a lot nowadays, Varis always seemed to know when to be the wholesome brother. I looked up at him. “Thanks,” I said, “I think I feel a bit better–”

The hairs on my neck prickled and stood up, and I froze. My eyes locked onto my brother’s, and quickly I turned to look behind me towards the station’s entrance, where dozens of individuals were filing in and out of the building. Possibly even a hundred people were beginning to come down toward us. Most were chatting with one another, and others kept their heads dipped down, hats pulled over their faces as they walked. Women gossiped beneath their sunblocks, while police officers patrolled alongside the crowd, keeping things orderly.

Yet, among them, someone, in that crowd, I could feel it. Their eyes were on me. Someone was watching… Then I saw them. An elven woman with short, white hair and striking blue eyes. Her skin was pale, nearly as white as her sundress. Our eyes met for only a second before suddenly, a large ork and his companions broke our line of sight, their boisterous laughter bringing me back to the present. As they passed, so did the woman, gone from my line of sight.

“Luna, what’s going on?” I heard Varis ask. “Are the, uh,” He lowered his voice. “Is he back?” Varis asked, referring to Shaed.

“No,” I said just loud enough for him to hear, my eyes still scanning the crowd.

A woman all in white, was that Charity? I thought. No, it couldn’t have been. She had said their kind was trapped beyond, wherever that was, and she also wasn’t an elf. Then again, a being of their power could probably change their looks, so it’s not entirely impossible.

“We’re being watched,” I said, again just loud enough for Varis to hear, and I finally looked at him. “Someone is interested in us, or me, I don’t know. What I do know, is I don’t like it.” I grabbed his hand and stood up. “Lets go find father, he’ll understand.”

Varis stood up with me and allowed me to pull him along; his face showed confusion, yet his eyes told me he trusted my judgment. Together, we went to find our father, our eyes keeping a close watch out for anyone who seemed interested in me.

“We’ve heard this all before, Mr. Aflen. During the final years of the Kings, when the revolutions began all across Enora. The Urdite priests and their amirate ‘prophets’ spoke of the gods abandoning us when the people chose to move away from the old ways of governance. It’s a method of control, you see, a way of sparking that inner fear of the gods. It’s a fallacy, I say. That is why I believe it’s best to take what these hyperbolic preachers say with a grain of sand…” – Historian Dr. Graf Hopperbelt, interview taken by Mr. Elric Alfen at the Natural History of Enora Museum.