Chapter 47: And Yet, Time Shows No Fairness |
I rose after the commotion on the roof had finally diminished.
Those winged aberrations seemed unlikely to surrender easily, but at least I wouldn’t have my skull crushed between their jaws the moment I stepped outside. I couldn’t claim it was safe, of course, but I couldn’t resign myself to sitting here for eternity either.
“Time to prepare ourselves.”
“No.”
The man responded with his head still buried between his knees.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I can’t continue. This is where it ends for me.”
He muttered in a voice heavy with despair.
“You claimed there are no heroes, but that’s merely a comforting lie those who succeed tell themselves. You’re different—exceptional. How else could you face all we’ve witnessed and still press forward? I cannot comprehend it. I’m nothing like you. I’m merely human.”
“I’m staying here. I’ve reached my limit.”
“I understand.”
He appeared lucid enough that there was no point in arguing further.
“Don’t be too harsh on yourself. You’ve displayed sufficient courage.”
I had no talent for consolation. I made an attempt, but seeing the man’s head sink even lower, my words clearly had no effect. Perhaps I failed to fully mask my disappointment.
The man extracted a pistol from his pocket and extended it toward me.
“I believe this will serve you better than it would me.”
I accepted the weapon without hesitation. I turned it over several times, examining its mechanism—it seemed straightforward enough to operate. Most importantly, its weight matched the pistol I’d grown accustomed to before, making it easy to adapt to.
“Only six bullets remain inside.”
“Good. I’ll make them count. Thank you.”
I positioned myself before the compartment door. The man remained behind, not even raising his head. We parted without another word between us.
—Clank, clank.
I stood in a gray liminal space—neither properly inside the train nor outside it.
If forced to describe it, I could only offer the ambiguous “between car 2 and car 1.” A lonely pocket of existence that could only be referenced so awkwardly because no one had deemed it worthy of naming.
We called all such nameless spaces the universe (Space).
Within this void, hundreds of those monstrosities still circled, trailing the train. Their sizes varied wildly, creating a chaotic aerial ballet that threatened to permanently distort one’s sense of perspective.
Shantak!
I had confided in no one, but I already knew what these creatures were called.
They were massive scavengers that soared between stars and the void, dwelling in dimensions beyond our Earth—monstrosities bearing the heads of beasts upon bodies of birds. Nothing else could match their blasphemous nature. These were Shantaks, creatures pulled directly from the eldritch mythologies penned by Lovecraft himself.
I studied the Shantaks with cautious scrutiny.
An unwritten detail from any tome—their sizes varied wildly, as though they weren’t of a single species at all. Perhaps they underwent dramatic growth throughout their lifecycle, or maybe what I witnessed was a convergence of subspecies, different in scale yet sharing the same hunting grounds.
This disorienting variance had repeatedly thwarted my attempts at stealthy passage. Some appeared deceptively nearby when they were distant, while others I believed far away materialized terrifyingly close.
After watching patiently for an opening, one of the airborne Shantaks split its maw wide. Have you glimpsed what passes for teeth in cosmic horrors? The fetid chunks of rotting flesh gleaming between its fangs in the starlight, alongside parasites thick as serpents, were enough to fill me with revulsion.
──────!!!
The Shantak’s throat vibrated as that terrible cry erupted once more from its jaws. Like a macabre choir, the surrounding Shantaks joined the wailing.
“Aaagh!”
The sensation of my very soul being shredded throughout my body forced an involuntary scream from my lips. Without such proof of my continued existence, I feared my essence might truly be torn away.
The sound barely escaped me, yet the predators detected their prey’s voice with chilling precision through the train’s rumble. My voice—betraying me.
Several Shantaks descended toward me.
I lunged desperately toward car 1. Toward the snouts rushing at me, I raised the pistol with unsteady hands and fired.
─────BANG!
─────!!!
The creature released a sickening moan and rocketed upward. Its leathery hide seemed to have absorbed most of the impact, leaving it largely unharmed. I seized the moment to throw myself into car 1, barricading the door with my back.
─────BOOM! BOOM!
The train shuddered violently as if something massive had crashed against it, followed by thunderous impacts that reverberated through my body. Each collision felt like my internal organs were being violently rearranged.
“Huff… Huff…”
Eventually, whether because they realized the door wouldn’t yield or because they were craftily lying in ambush, the assault ceased.
“Urgh.”
I collapsed to the floor, my empty stomach heaving.
Until now, fortune had spared me from direct confrontation, but even through the thick door, I’d learned their true nature. These were apex predators from beyond the stars. A direct impact would shatter bones and rupture flesh.
After the pain subsided, I struggled to my feet and cautiously advanced.
Car 1 was a realm of impossible geometry.
Though I’d been here before, only now did I truly comprehend. Everything oriented around the black monolith positioned at the car’s end. Reality itself was gradually crystallizing around the stone—not metaphorically or as some optical illusion.
Time itself was slowing to a crawl!
Confronted with this cosmic aberration, I had one advantage—knowledge from a future time. I recalled theories about phenomena like this.
The thermodynamic laws—entropy’s hidden governance over time itself.
Yes, of course. Even time is merely the dance of molecules.
The universe marches toward future or past solely by entropy’s dictates. But in this frigid void, molecular motion crawled to near-stillness. A realm of profoundly low entropy! In this Tartarus—this primordial prison—time itself languished in chains.
This realization triggered another epiphany, striking me like lightning.
Car 10 was entropy’s opposite extreme—a hellscape of pure heat.
There, molecules ricocheted violently in chaotic frenzy, heat perpetually rising, accelerating time to a blur. Flesh and skin liquefied in the inferno, children aged to adults before your eyes, adults withered to ancients. An unstable realm of catastrophically high entropy.
A cold terror seized me as these revelations crystallized.
Could such perfect symmetry be mere coincidence?
Impossible. Whatever SMR’s purpose in constructing this train, they had deliberately carved time into discrete fragments within a single vessel. I reached the car’s end and lifted the obsidian monolith.
The numeral “8” glowed in eerie green phosphorescence. It might also represent “∞,” but “8” seemed the more rational interpretation.
If I survived this nightmare, this artifact would surely provide the key to decoding the train’s mysteries. I tucked it inside my clothing, forcibly cramming it in. The introduction letter from Alice crumpled in the process, and the inner pocket’s stitching tore away.
—CLANK!
I wrenched the door open. Pale steam erupted from between the boiler valves, rising above my head before instantly condensing into a downpour. In this moisture-starved realm, these might well be the first raindrops ever to fall.
I pushed forward through the frigid droplets—half-frozen pellets of hail—and abandoned my cane as useless weight. Like a mountaineer scaling a sheer cliff, I clambered up the coal storage wall.
—SCREECH!
In the distance, the Shantak flock that had been lying in wait near car 1 launched themselves toward me.
My fingers tensed against the pistol grip.
“Steady now… wait for the moment…”
I steadied myself as I climbed, remembering the Shantaks’ armor-like hide. The pistol’s limited power would only prove effective at point-blank range.
The first Shantak swooped within range.
—BANG!
The shot cracked through the air, the bullet embedding itself in the creature’s cheekbone, just missing its eye. I’d aimed for that gelatinous orb but failed. Instantly, I adjusted and fired again.
—BANG!
—SHRIEEEEK!!!
The black, wrinkled eyeball erupted in a spray of viscous fluid. The massive Shantak convulsed mid-air before plummeting to the ground. Not dead, perhaps, but effectively neutralized.
I seized this opening to scramble closer to the engine cab.
The scorching heat from the locomotive’s heart gradually intensified. Inside, two drivers worked frantically, shoveling coal into the ravenous furnace without pause.
“Stop the train!” I shouted.
Either my voice was lost to the engine’s roar, or they chose to ignore me.
“Can’t you hear me?! Drop those damned shovels—”
—BANG!
My words died in my throat. I’d managed to drive away another Shantak that had lunged within arm’s reach, but I’d reached my limit. Even a hasty count revealed four or five more Shantaks swooping toward me. Only two bullets remained.
Once more, fate forced my hand.
I could briefly delay the inevitable—dispatch the two lead creatures, seek refuge in the engine cab, somehow convince the drivers to stop. But would they listen? Would there even be time?
No. Even momentary reflection confirmed the truth—survival was impossible.
With this clarity came resolve. I shifted the pistol to my steadier hand and calmly fired two shots at my chosen targets.
—BANG! BANG!
The drivers, who had been toiling with mechanical precision, crumpled to the floor. Without coal feeding the furnace, the infernal heat would gradually subside, and eventually, the train would halt. And then…
I turned my head.
What greeted me was darkness. No—a cavernous gullet.
My long journey ended there.
My body was pulverized between rows of teeth, inside and outside becoming indistinguishable concepts. Limbs twisted and tore like butcher’s offal. I tried to scream but could produce no sound, my lungs reduced to crimson pulp.
In the final flicker of consciousness, beyond the Shantak’s glistening mandibles, I glimpsed something peculiar.
A solitary black speck amid the barren wasteland.
Focusing my fading sight, I discerned a man. Thin-framed, garbed in an immaculate, oddly vibrant suit—like some traveling salesman from the American frontier. Despite his slender build, he radiated vitality and unnatural vigor.
He might have been the sole living entity in that desolate expanse.
A profound curiosity seized me, but satisfaction would remain forever beyond reach. As the train decelerated—or perhaps as consciousness ebbed away—everything gradually slowed until finally, I died.
—SCREEEECH!
“Train arriving!”
I jolted awake as we pulled into Oxford station.
The gradual deceleration and surrounding murmur of humanity often served as nature’s alarm. Through the window, I glimpsed the modest station building and throngs of passengers queued along the platform.
“Train arriving! Stand clear!”
A station attendant bustled about with a handbell, herding people away from the tracks.
“Master, we’ve arrived.”
Marie’s voice came soft beside me—strangely distant, as though reaching me from across some vast chasm. I could only blink, struggling to reconcile my surroundings.
Had I not perished in the maw of a cosmic abomination?
“Marie.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t you remember anything?”
Marie fell silent, contemplating my question before suddenly offering a single remark.
“You must have had a dreadful nightmare.”
A nightmare? Was that cosmic horror merely a figment of slumber?
I gazed out the window. The world appeared perfectly ordinary. Winter birds soared against cloud-strewn skies, while station-goers hurried about their mundane affairs.
Scanning the scene, my eyes fell upon the station’s pillar clock, and I found myself uttering words of bewilderment.
“Precisely one hour and thirty-six minutes. Exactly as scheduled.”
As the train ground to its final halt, passengers erupted into spontaneous applause.
True, railways in this era were hardly paragons of safety, but surely only the most provincial of rustics would applaud a train for merely stopping. Yet I found my hands joining the ovation, moved by some inexplicable impulse. Some passengers wept openly, offering prayers of gratitude to the Almighty, though their expressions suggested they themselves couldn’t fathom why.
Marie, perplexed by the spectacle, glanced at me before awkwardly mimicking my applause.
The curious celebration persisted for what seemed an eternity.
We were the final souls to disembark. Through the doorway, fellow travelers with whom we’d shared countless hours vanished one by one into the crowd.
The elderly gentleman, the bourgeois couple, the malodorous man of wealth, the solitary female traveler, and the corpulent gentleman.
Despite our prolonged proximity, I knew not a single name among them. Once swallowed by the throng, they would become irretrievable ghosts of memory.
The locomotive had conquered physical distance in remarkable fashion, yet somehow stretched the space between souls wider than ever before.
“Shall we proceed?”
At my words, Marie, seated on the aisle, rose first. She extended her hand, assisting me to my feet. We emerged from the carriage with measured steps. Her distinctive appearance drew momentary glances, but most eyes merely brushed past us, uninterested.
I observed our fellow passengers as they dispersed.
Those from first class emerged immaculate, not a hair displaced. Of course—to them, even the chaos beyond their upholstered sanctuaries remained someone else’s misfortune. Such noble creatures, ensconced in comfortable chairs for a mere hour or two, would scarcely surrender their dignity to something as vulgar as railway travel.
By stark contrast, third-class passengers emerged in states of utter desolation. Transported like cattle, compressed amid unwashed masses for hours on end, their individual scents and identities had dissolved into a miasma of collective misery. The noxious fumes, hunched postures, narrowed shoulders, gnarled hands, and expressions of profound exhaustion rendered them indistinguishable from the aged.
No—these were indeed the elderly.
At six, one became a laborer; at thirty, a withered husk awaiting the grave.
Time shows no fairness.
Even the fundamental laws of the cosmos bend to serve humanity’s cruelest instincts.
“I wonder if that person is here too?” Marie suddenly asked.
“The name… the name is certainly Norman Adam Higgins…”
I turned to regard her with newfound attention.
“There was also someone called James Cook. And Anthony Green, Peter Jabing… why do I know these people? I’ve never encountered them once in my entire life.”
Confusion clouded her features as she grappled with her own inexplicable knowledge.
The train had widened the gulf between souls. We couldn’t know the names of those who had shared our journey for hours, let alone those in distant compartments. Yet some benevolent spirit remembered. Someone retained names that history’s ledgers would never record.
I am not such a person. It defied comprehension how she could possess such memories, or by what mechanism she preserved them. But one certainty remained.
“Shirley Marie, she was definitely human.”
“We’ll discuss that later in a more private setting. You simply had a nightmare. Just as I did.”
“A dream? That can’t be…”
I soothed her while walking through the station, inwardly embarrassed by my own response.
The awkward silence between us was broken by a third party.
“Wait, just a moment please!”
It was that corpulent gentleman from our compartment. He had been speaking with some suited men in the distance, but upon spotting me, he rushed over immediately. Panting heavily, he pulled out a pistol.
I frowned and demanded, “What’s your game?”
“What? No, no! That’s not my intention at all!”
The man opened the cylinder in confusion. As six spent casings clattered to the ground, he hurriedly dropped to his knees to gather them. He held the collected shells up for me to see.
“It—it wasn’t a dream! I entrusted this gun to you, and there’s evidence that all six loaded bullets were fired!”
“Are you billing me for ammunition? Fine, I’ll gladly pay.”
“No, that’s not it…”
He scratched his head nervously, struggling to organize his thoughts. In truth, I had no desire for further entanglement with him.
The Universal Bureau.
That’s how this disorganized man had identified his affiliation. He knew more than most and carried concealed military equipment. Though our partnership had been unavoidable, he possessed far too many suspicious qualities to earn my trust. At the very least, I wanted no involvement with him until I uncovered the true nature of the dubious government agency known as the Universal Bureau.
I walked past him before he could collect his thoughts, effectively dismissing him. Marie, startled by my blatant disregard, glanced back and forth between us before hastily following in my wake.
“Please, your name! Just tell me your name!” the man desperately called after me.
I don’t know why this particular word came to mind. Perhaps his desperate appearance seemed so comical that it awakened my mischievous side. Whatever the reason, I enunciated clearly:
“Floccinaucinihilipilification.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s Polish. Didn’t catch it? I’ll say it once more—floccinaucinihilipilification.”
Glancing back one final time, I saw the man standing frozen, muttering, “F-f-” like a fool. It was truly a comical sight. Marie looked at me with disapproval, but I merely chuckled.
Pop—the stitching in my inner pocket burst.