Several yards behind the table Edward and Witticker, now dressed in floor length, hooded black robes, had joined the line as inconspicuously as possible. Edward had decided on their apparel for the trip. His reasoning had been that, while it was unlikely they would be recognized; the extra precaution would not hurt.
The line snaked slowly across the train yard as the afternoon sun arced across the sky like a pole-vaulter in suspended animation. Little children ran up and down the line selling refreshments to the travelers. Several motorbikes zoomed past the motionless train, sailing past the crowds and down the tracks. The locals cheered as the bikes sped by and the riders raised their fists in the air to reciprocate the enthusiasm. The drivers were drifters and vagrants, hired by the train conductors to ride ahead, checking for disruptions or breaks in the track. People familiar with the line of work, considered by most to be a particularly dangerous occupation, felt a certain inclination to support the vandal riders who they only knew as selfless surveyors of the countryside.
As the line crawled across the wasteland of train tracks a makeshift marketplace sprang up around the captive consumers. Vendors dropped quilts on the ground and unloaded their goods for the public’s viewing eye. Witticker was amazed at the persistence and resiliency of the merchants, shouting and gesturing at every passerby regardless of their show of interest. At one point he was nearly drawn into one of the stands himself after a pocket watch that lay among a pile of like shiny trinkets, but was quickly torn away by Edward who reminded him of their unique situation. He snapped at Witticker with a quiet hiss, instructing him to keep his face to the ground and under the hood.
After an hour and a half the two men found themselves only a few places from the front of the line. The man in the dark blue suit seemed to be questioning each passenger in a similar manner, asking each their intended destination and reason for travel.
“When we get up there,” whispered Edward, his face to the ground, “don’t say anything. I’ll take care of everything. Just make sure to agree with whatever I say.”
“Alright.”
“Good start.”
The two men stepped forward and waited for the man in the dark blue suit to call them to the table. Out of the corner of his eye Edward could see the crowds of people moving all around the train, swarming in and around its various cable cars. Some were employed to inspect and repair the trains many moving parts and others were helping recent arrivals still exiting the train with their luggage which, in some cases with traveling families, was ample.
As he scanned the mechanical landscape a familiar image suddenly caught Edward’s attention. At the back of the train Edward could see the outline of a lanky man raking a brush through an unkempt beard. The old man threw a satchel onto the train and leapt up onto one of the many cleared platforms.
“Next.”
Edward quickly snapped his head back to the ground and stepped forward. Witticker followed Edward’s lead and stood slightly behind his guide. Up close the man in the blue suit appeared to be a slightly portly gentleman with a large handlebar mustache and considerable oval eyes. Upon his blue lapel stuck a rectangular pin with the words ‘CONDUCTOR’ visible through the smudge lathered onto it.
Sweat dripped from underneath the conductor’s hat and rolled down the length of his face, falling onto the pages of the book laid out before him.
“Destination?”
“New York,” growled Edward in a gruff tone much unlike his normal speaking voice.
“City or upstate?”
“City.”
The man in the blue suit took a small handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the length of his forehead. Replacing the handkerchief, he grabbed a pen and jotted a few notes in the next open margin in the book laid out before him.
“Reason for travel?”
“To further spread the word.”
“And which word would that be?” asked the conductor without a hint of interest.
“The word of the Region,” replied Edward, not missing a beat, “the most forward-thinking ideal, ever-expanding in an effort to show the people of the world the harmony and comfort of living in a united community. Have you heard the word?”
“No, and I don’t intend to,” murmured the conductor, “Your friend is awfully quiet. Doesn’t he feel the need to spread the word?”
“My friend and I are on route to see a very important official in the New York area. He has been commissioned to speak to no one before a meeting of this magnitude so that his thoughts might remain unfettered and on the task at hand. Isn’t that right?”
Witticker nodded under his robe and raised his hand slightly.
“Fine. You do understand the penalty for engaging in criminal behavior en route to your destination, correct?”
Edward nodded.
“Alright, you and your mute friend are in car eight, room thirteen.”
Edward and Witticker both nodded and shuffled towards the train. As they reached the platform on the eighth car Witticker pulled Edward aside.
“What is the penalty for engaging in criminal behavior on this thing?”
“Oh, they toss your ass from the train. Come on, we need to see who we’re riding with.”
Edward jumped up onto the train and slid through the thin door into the passenger car. Witticker turned and scanned the sea of travelers still in line behind the table. They shuffled in their places as he had only moments before, kicking dirt up into the air which seemed to engulf the mass in a hazy fog. The dusty mist clutched the line, snaring it into place. It never seemed to move. It was simply there, stuck in one place. Faceless bodies shuffling endlessly under the noon-day sun.
A whistle blew from the front of the train signaling an imminent departure. Witticker quickly jumped up to the platform and disappeared into car number eight. The line of people dispersed along with the blue-suited conductor and his table. The dust began to settle back to the earth. Everything became silent again.
The train whistle blew again and the hulking engine roared to life. The train crept forward hurling loose earth back into the air. The massive machine picked up speed and flew out of town, leaving clouds of smoke and dirt swirling in its wake.
