The Shadows Turned To Light

I emerged from the carriage into sudden bright sunlight, blinking helplessly.

That's odd. There shouldn't be any light. We'd been in the train tunnel for most of the journey, and it looked like it was at least another hour left. Why is it so bright?

I was standing on a station platform in a tiny village, so small it was only a single junction: no ticket office, no snack bar, no clock. There were three platforms, one each on the three lines converging here. On one side of the tracks, a little steel-and-concrete bus shelter leaned at an angle, as if it had been blown over in a gale and the spring had popped out. The view was of the broad green valley of the Thames, with its huge river and clusters of grey houses dotted about on patches of grass and smooth mud. In the distance, I could see the dark line of the railway tunnel, disappearing into the hills.

I started to think maybe I'd been riding the train in my sleep. But the air was unnaturally warm and mild, and there was a strong smell of paraffin.

I looked around, tentatively.

'Hello?' I called out, stupidly, as if I actually expected anyone to answer.

No one did.

I was the only person on the platform.

And then I heard the station clock strike thirteen times.

I winced. My head was throbbing, my body was cold, I was starving, and I'd had more than my fair share of unexpected wobbles over the week. I shook my head to clear it, and looked for any kind of public phone.

No phone.

I felt like I was going crazy. It couldn't possibly be real.

I looked down at the platform, saw a metal handle. I felt for the lock.

It was unlocked.

I wondered if I should go back out onto the tracks, in the hope I could just get the train to come to me. I thought if I could just see the lights of another carriage something might make sense.

But then I thought that wouldn't really help me. And what if the carriage had already run out of power? What if there was no-one left on board to help me?

And what if there were?

I lifted the handle and turned the door on its hinges. I stepped inside, into the warm dimness.

The train hummed loudly, as if it was expecting me.

I looked inside the carriage again. There was a strange but somehow comforting feeling about the space, as if I'd entered a second skin.

I moved towards the sleeping carriage, feeling my way along the wall. And then I saw the light.

The light was coming from here. In front of the charging cupboard. In front of the seat I'd been sleeping in. In front of my packet of crisps.

I stepped forward.

The machine was a massive flat steel slab, half a metre across. It was covered in rows of buttons, big and small.

The screen on the top was blank.

There were rows and rows of buttons, and no-one moved or spoke.

The light was directly below me, off to one side. I could see the softly glowing pumpkin-orange light of the battery. I could turn it off, but I couldn't work out how to turn it on. It was like speaking to an inmate.

This is an automated travel machine. It will take your money, and then it will carry you to your destination. You are its pet. It does not care about you.

I struck the machine with my fist.

The machine rattled loudly, like it was mocking me.

I struck it again. I thought about ripping everything out, smashing it to pieces. I got up and moved towards the seat I'd been sleeping in. I sat in it. I closed my eyes for a few moments, to think.

I realised the clock in this carriage was ticking.

I suddenly sat bolt upright, shocked and terrified.

The ticking was the clock. The clock in the carriage!

I looked around the carriage. The place was completely destroyed. Shredded paper was everywhere, half the seat backs were missing, the food machine, the food I'd bought, had pulled half the machine back out of the wall. The machine had half the front off. There was food on the floor, and everywhere. Cockroaches were crawling everywhere.

I realised I'd been sitting here, not sleeping, but destroying the carriage. I looked at my hand. It hurt, throbbing and intensely hot. I looked closely at the wound; bits of plastic and broken glass were sticking out of it.

I looked down at a large hole where the clock had been. There was a lot of dust on the screen, but the dial had been completely erased. But I could work out that it was a month. The clock was only a month.

I felt like crying. It was so stupid to be back on the train again.

I slapped my face.

I looked down at the train. I looked at it, and I told it to explode.

I didn't mean it. I was joking with it.

I looked around the carriage again, so the ticking could stop.

I suddenly realised that I couldn't remember any of the journey.

I suddenly recalled the conversation I'd sat next to at the start of the journey.

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