[HR] The Train
I kept my gaze fixed on the clock as the hours crawled by. “When is that damned train finally coming?” I kept asking myself out loud. In the distance, to my shock, a radio suddenly crackled to life, probably an old thing, judging by the quality of the sound. Through the distortion of the notes in the open space and the whispering of the wind in my ears, it had been difficult at first to recognize the music, but after a while the scattered fragments of melody still managed to ignite a sense of recognition, somewhere deep in my mind like an itch that was impossible to scratch. Short words and phrases shot through my thoughts like a puzzle whose pieces only become visible once you have placed them in the right spot; the lyrics had something to do with Mars, but beyond that I could no longer remember. It had already been a classic when I heard it for the first time, somewhere in my teenage years, when I had discovered my father’s record collection.
It was a soft autumn morning, and the wind sighed slowly through the last remaining leaves, which with their golden-brown glow seemed to give the stone coldness of this, all too bland looking, station a warmer and even almost friendlier, character. As I took my seat on a bench in the shadows, I felt the suffocating loneliness that coverd this platform. It was not as if this small town station was normally packed with travelers, trying every hour of the day to reach their all to important destinations, but while I caught myself singing along with the radio for several minutes, it struck me that I saw no one around me. Not only did I see no people waiting for the train, but even the road running parallel to the station, with its small flower stall, furniture store and several other shops, seemed completely abandoned. Then it struck me that for perhaps the first time in my life, I was completely alone.
“Still no train?” A warm voice asked softly beside me, and with a jolt I turned toward the sound. I could have sworn that when I sat down, the bench was empty. I could have sworn that I had looked over the entire station and assured myself that I was completely alone, I had even spent some time staring at the shops, hoping to see a customer or shopkeeper who could take away this feeling of isolation, but now, now there sat a complete stranger in a black suit on the other end of my bench. Something about the chestnut-brown hair curling just above his shoulders and the neatly trimmed beard stirred something inside me. Had I seen him standing here at the station earlier? Or was it something else? The itch in the back of my mind had returned once again.
“No,” I answered. “And I’m wondering if that train is even running today. Always the same bullshit.” For a moment the man seemed surprised by my answer, but after a short silence the corner of his mouth curled upward again and he replied in the same calm tone:
“Ah, don’t worry to much, Jimmy. I think we both know that train will come eventually." "Would you like a cigarette?” He asked as he lit his own.
“Shouldn’t,” I answered shortly. “I promised my daughter I wouldn’t smoke another one on the day my grandson was born.” That had already been 20 years ago by now, or was it 30?
“You’re right, Jimmy.” The man in black replied as he slowly leaned back and blew his smoke straight up into the air. “These things will kill you if you’re not careful.”
With the speed of a new sports car whose limits you decide to test on a sunny summer afternoon, countless thoughts shot through my mind at the exact same time. The proverbial puzzle pieces raced toward their rightful places faster than my head could really handle, and the itch from earlier transformed into a pulsating pain that reminded me of a glowing nail patiently being drilled into the back of my skull. Questions piled up and faded again to make room for new ones, until after a while two kept on rising to the surface: How did he know my name? And how had I gotten here?
I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t. By that I do not simply mean that the act of standing was difficult, but that every limb, every muscle and every fiber of my body refused to respond to the commands pulsing from my brain.
“That’s not going to work just yet, Jim, not until you remember”,
“Remember what?” I asked as small beads of sweat formed on my forehead and my breathing became faster and shallower, catching in my throat. The man, in complete contrast, seemed to find all this a humorous spectacle while his eyes sparkled and the corners of his mouth made no effort whatsoever to hide his emotion.
“If I could simply tell you that, there would have been no need, for all this fuss.”
My heart pounded faster with every beat, and what had been beads only seconds ago had now turned into what could almost be called a river of perspiration. I could no longer keep my eyes fixed on one point for more than a few seconds and my mind swirled from the weight of all its thoughts. Why couldn’t I remember anything anymore? What was it that I could no longer remember?
“Take it easy Jim, no one gains anything from this “, said the man in black, sterner than I had heard him until now. I tried once more to stand up, but nothing happened. I tried once more to remember everything, but nothing happened. Nothing except that my head, as far as possible, became even fuller with my endless questions: Where was I? How had I gotten here?
The music, which together with the whispering wind until now had been the background of this spectacle, began to thunder louder and louder through the open space, while it distorted under the immense force with which the familiar notes were being pushed through the tiny speakers of the radio.
Slowly an image began to form, far within my thoughts, the puzzle almost complete. I slowly began to remember empty fragments, but the essential questions of time and place were still just beyond my reach. In the distance I heard the tapping sounds of drops against a window, and I smelled the scent of leaves slowly mixing with the moisture of fresh rain. At the same time, my eyes in every direction saw nothing but the sun warming the earth. Perhaps my mind had finally broken.
“Good”, said the man in black, softly but with a certain excitement, barely hidden in his voice, “Just a little more, you’re almost there.”
That music grew louder once again, but this time there was a second sound blending into the background of this unberable cacophony. DING-DING-DING it rang, and with every repetition the fear filling my chest grew stronger, and just beyond me, wherever I looked, the glow of red lights pulsed with every DING as my face slowly grew wet. When had I started crying?
I did not hear the train approaching as the man in black slowly stood up, and the music crossed the boundary of what could be endured. The only thing I could hear was the icy scream of iron scraping over iron at high speed, and in the long-awaited silence, while everything around me faded into darkness, I heard the man in his black suit one more time as he walked away: “Maybe tomorrow, Jim, we’re getting really close.”
So, I keep my gaze fixed on the clock as the hours crawl by. “When is that damned train finally coming?” I ask myself out loud as I wait for the radio to turn itself back on again.