Let’s Not [Obliterate]
Chapter 194: Interlude — That Night

First Day 23:45, Carriage One, Communal Front — Poxie.

Why do puppets sleep? I shouldn’t have to, and yet, I grow tired every evening. I want to blame my maker — especially because when I do lie down to find sweet rest, what I find instead is trouble. 

Log knows, so when she’s awake, she hugs me from behind. She does it that night too, when I doze on the sofa, my feet resting on her thick tail.

Omi sits next to us, rambling, and brushing through my hair. Her left antenna occasionally grazes my cheek as my head rests on her crumpled wing. I barely listen to her words, but I think it’s something about her hometown. She knows I like the sound of her voice, so whenever I have sleepless nights, she brushes and braids my hair and finds just about anything to talk about.

I’m so glad to have them. They make me feel at home.

Until Log pushes the strip of my top aside and kisses my exposed shoulder. I do my best not to flinch or recoil — it just wasn’t expected, and I don’t want to worry her. Especially not now. And my shoulder is safe. 

“So, I’ll do it tonight, then?” Log asks and places another kiss. I shudder. That’s fine. 

Omi shifts next to me. “W-well… the new passengers would give us cover, plus, one of them is a pillar. But… are you sure…? I don’t want you to—”

Her voice speeds up into a higher-pitched squeak, so I stop her. “We’ve been over this,” I say gently. “We’re going to help. Just let us. You led the new passengers through the train, right? If you say today’s our best bet, then we’ll do it today.”

Omi is silent at that. Makes sense, she’s self-conscious. 

Log pulls down my top a little, to kiss me again. This time, I feel goosebumps.

Still safe, as far as I know. She just can’t venture too much. Probably. But I can’t help the thrill, so I don’t tell her to stop.

I wish we’d be here longer.

Second Day 01:22, Carriage Four, Lounge — Entrichia.

Most nights, I venture into the deepest storage compartment to spend some time alone, where nobody would find me. That night is different. 

We’re sitting around one of the tables in the lounge, dragged into a sudden work meeting in the middle of the night. The engine caretaker likes to do this, but this time feels different. He’s smoking his stick again — I grudgingly bite my lips through it. Annoying.

Raquina looks a bit more tired than usual, her red dress uncharacteristically crumpled. The passengers who boarded today were apparently a handful? She didn’t share any details, and I don’t care enough about them to look up their sheets. But then Raquina lets out small sighs as she gazes out the window, and I do care a little about her.

I let the old man ramble. Something about danger to the ‘integrity’ of the engine? He really loves getting upset about things he himself caused. It’s because we keep taking on passengers indiscriminately, rather than deciding after we know their abilities. Of course, nobody asks for my opinion because they just want me to sit in the kitchen and prepare meals. And because I won’t be asked, I barely listen.

At some point, Raquina takes a short leave. I don’t like suspecting her of things, but this time I assume she needed some fresh air. I wave a cloud of smoke out of my face. 

As always, we sign off on the engine caretaker’s plan; our new colleague is too fresh to be bothered with administrative work and Dr. Alp is not here because he’s fed up with train business. Also, something about a patient? So it’s just us three, and will be for a while. New passengers mean new fuel. If he wants to waste it, he can be my guest. Not my fault if we end up stranded.

Truth be told, sometimes I do wish the ride would end so I can take Raquina out of here.

Second Day 01:57, Carriage Six, Communal Back — Montaparte.

At night, I work.

That night, I worked.

As it turns out, time doesn’t grow on trees. Not that there are trees here, anyway. Curious.

I shake my head. My work is to solve problems, and this isn’t one. I’m getting distracted. Even switched tenses by accident. A sign of being tired. The gentle rocking of the train keeps me going. Yes. As long as it goes, I go.

Second Day 02:12, Carriage Four, Infirmary — Dr. Alp.

The 43-year-old human passenger was admitted to the ward after being found unresponsive in her cabin by her convoy. Witnesses aboard the train report having last seen the patient in apparent good health five to seven hours prior to being admitted. Convoy reports having seen no signs of trauma, drug use, or anomalous behaviour.

History: Patient suffers Prognostication Drainage from an injury sustained in the White Fields of the Warzone on Lafyta. For a detailed patient history as reported by her convoy, see addendum B.

Diagnostic Findings at Admission:

• Vital Signs: stable, BP 130/80, heart rate 75, O2 sat 98%
• Neurological: Coma Scale 6 (E1 Vt M4), pupils bilaterally reactive, no signs of intracranial bleeding or trauma
• Pulmonary: depressed breathing, insufficient ventilation; intubation and manual bagging was required prior to the implantation of intestinal oxygenating kelp (growth-rate-derived VCO2 pending)
• Others: CV & Abd unremarkable, increased temporal stress consistent with her PD, Postsomatic Imagery (2 cycles) non-assessable due to magical interferences
• Mundane Labs: mild hyperglycemia, no signs of metabolic decompensation. tox screen negative, extended panel and blood work pending

Plan: Workup has not revealed any clear cause for the comatose state. Elevated blood glucose is too low to account for symptoms. Due to magical interferences, treatment with sinic ammonia to avoid blood clotting is deemed inappropriate. Limited diagnostic capabilities aboard indicate supportive care consisting of close monitoring, parenteral nutrition, and eventual careful derealisation until she can be referred to the Augury Institute in the Mists.

However, while the reality constructed by the train protects the patient from the deterioration of pre-existing conditions, conditions acquired here may be untreatable elsewhere. If no amelioration arises from supportive care, cryonisation may need to be considered despite heavy risks.

Passengers leave when their tickets expire. Let’s get to work and hope for a delay.

Second Day 02:26, Carriage One, Dema’s & Theora’s Room — Dema.

For the longest time, Dema had kept a small secret.

She was a bad sleeper. Her sleep was light, shallow.

Except for when she was in bed with Theora. Theora was a hearth asleep, a safe place to lie next to, on top of, wrapped in. When they were together, Dema slept well. Even when they didn’t cuddle. She’d had some of the best sleep in thousands of years after Theora broke her out of confinement; the time when they’d been wandering the world, sleeping with healthy separation. 

But on the occasional rare day, Dema would get too excited for good sleep — like that night. The train was just too new and magical, whimsical. She wrote her thoughts down on a note so she could deliver the praise later as fuel, and then she finally dozed off. When she woke back up, Theora was away, had left sheets crumpled in her wake.

Dema sleepily scratched her head. It wasn’t like Theora to wake up when she didn’t have to. Which likely meant that, for some reason, Theora had to. 

Dema peeled herself out of three thin blankets and stepped onto the wooden flooring, barefoot. “Morning Treeka,” she said, because Treeka was a bad sleeper too who sat on her miniature bench, eyes wide open.

“Morning,” Treeka answered. She didn’t quite seem happy. Maybe she was bored?

Dema tapped closer. “Wanna go out?” And when Treeka gave the slightest of nods with her little spirit body, Dema picked up the pot for a nightly walk. “Maybe we could go see Rita!”

This was nice. A cramped room, a bed too small, a train full of people to get to know. Truth be told, Dema could get used to this.

Second Day 02:27, Locomotive, The Lavish — Fentanyle.

Everything Fentanyle believed, Fentanyle knew to be true.

Staring at the ground with hundreds of eyes, seeing through it in a way only Fentanyle could, Fentanyle believed to have found a secret.

Fentanyle no longer wished to leave this place.

The wide and open Lavish stretched to the horizon, only stopping at the open entry door. Fentanyle felt exposed.

Reality had changed after new passengers arrived, that change had caused discomfort. It felt as though Fentanyle was no longer alone. That made the crows wary. A fight, this place, her charge — they’d gained the potential to be lost. Should Fentanyle spread herself thinner? Or reach out to have her charge come here?

Only one thing was certain.

Fentanyle had to stay.

Second Day 02:28, Carriage One, Storage Compartment One — The Child.

The nights are cold.

Maybe the train will take another stop tomorrow? Maybe we’ll arrive where Liff is. But if Liff is far away, so far away, then perhaps I need to wait for longer.

I can hear the tall lady walk around outside the cupboard. I hope she won’t come to check. I need to be quiet.

She goes away after a while.

Maybe the train will halt soon.

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