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Chapter 189: The Source of Division
🕑 Added 2025-01-04 14:45:04 +0000 UTCFirst Day 08:17, Carriage Four, Lounge
Something strange was afoot on this train.
Theora couldn’t quite shake off that feeling. A lot of little things just didn’t add up… Why, for one, did they have to ‘buy’ tickets? It didn’t quite make sense. Especially considering—
“Yeah, using it on me would be a bit of a waste,” Treeka said with a somewhat bitter tone that tore Theora out of her thoughts.
She’d been spacing out again, it seemed. They were sitting in the fourth carriage of the train, occupying seats in a row before the long bar. It took up almost half the length of the carriage. Theora had placed Treeka on the marble counter; Dema and then Bell were sitting to her right with drinks. On the other side of the counter, a staff member was polishing glasses. Raquina sat right next to her, leaning over the filled-out ability sheets with a focused and tired gaze.
Nobody else was in the carriage. They’d been told the Campanella needed to keep them here for a while, to ‘acclimate’ itself to their arrival. And so, while the others were talking, Theora had been left to her own thoughts. She let her gaze wander around the train interior to try and make sense of the place… There stood a large, fancy mirror next to the entry on the bar side of the carriage, the side farther from the locomotive. Why was there a mirror? The other side of the lounge was filled with little couches to sit on with small tables — a hang-out area, with a piano standing against the wall. Behind the staffers, a giant window stretched the entire length of the carriage, showing a view of the forest they’d entered through.
The two staffers exchanged a look, catching Theora’s attention. The bartender was young, had a freckled face and brown skin, was smiling, but looked slightly nervous in her surroundings. Her checkered suit vest gave her a masculine and formal air. She seemed unpracticed with the glasses she was polishing and had to look around to find things rather than locating them by muscle memory.
Theora mindlessly looked across the marble counter that separated them as ‘passengers’ from the two ‘staffers.’
It was a little harrowing. Unease crept into Theora’s stomach. They had to ‘buy’ tickets, to ‘pay’ for them. The people inhabiting the train were divided into ‘staffers’ and ‘passengers.’ The division felt eerie; Theora had seen similar things before — in her home world between heroes and non-heroes as well as in ‘Reality.’
Usually, they were caused by systems of exploitation.
Raquina let out a sudden sigh, ejecting Theora from her thoughts once more. She pushed the documents toward the bartender. “File them away for me, would you? I’ll head down to rest for a bit.”
“Down to rest?” the bartender asked in a confused but curious tone, blinking. “Wait, rest where?”
“Just in one of Alp’s cots,” Raquina said. “The old man likes to talk, and I like to nap to his talking. See you, Ulber.”
“Ah, yeah, right.” Ulber cleared her throat, flushing slightly. “Forgot about the cots in there. Yeah, I’ll take things from here.”
“Don’t hesitate to ask if you need help.”
“Should be… fine.” Ulber gave a smile and nodded toward the wall behind the counter; the end of a ladder was peeking out, just about visible from Theora’s seat. Then, Raquina descended, leaving the piles of paper laid out on the counter.
After she was gone, Ulber sent them a look. She beamed at Theora as their gazes met. “Acclimatisation should be done soon,” she said warmly. She picked up a glass she’d already polished three times, and slowly paced toward the others. Right before arriving she gestured back to the pile of paper. “I’ve not been here long, but gosh, the Campanella always surprises me with whom it can accommodate. It’s quite amazing.”
Dema, who had still been talking to the others, stopped mid-sentence to look over. “Why, are we uncommon passengers? With the train connecting different realities I was kinda… expecting things to be wonkier. But this looks like things I’ve seen before. Is it like… constructing an illusion for us to feel familiar in?”
“Ah, no, no,” Ulber said, waving it off. She put down the glass, leaving a few smudges on it. Theora could already see the poor thing being picked up and repolished within minutes, maybe seconds. “That’s kinda by design. In theory, the Campanella can house anything, and I hear it occasionally makes quite drastic accommodations to potential passengers. That said, we have a preference to travel between realities that allow for the existence of carbon-based lifeforms.”
“When you say ‘the Campanella,’ it kind of sounds like you’re talking about something alive. Is the train a person?”
“It’s an elaborate machine, but doesn’t have a consciousness. It runs complex calculations, but all are kicked off by manual input. When I say its name, mostly I just talk about us, the staffers, together with that machine, and what we can do. I’m really impressed by everything I see every day. I make sure to write it on the little guest books in front of the Lavish too, for fuel and such.”
Suddenly, the whole carriage flashed brightly, and a rustle came from the end of the bar. Theora turned just in time to see a figure step out of the tall mirror.
“Hey there!” the figure called with a squeaky voice. “I hear we have new passengers? I came to say hello!”
“Oh, hey there, Omi,” the bartender said, greeting her with a nod. “Rare to see you outside of your room.”
Omi shrugged, dragging thick folds of beige, ragged fabric after her; it was a dress of sorts, hugging her shoulders and reaching well onto the ground. Omi herself had short, messy, ginger hair that stood up from her head like grass, and deep, large black eyes. Two thin and long antennae protruded from her head down each side of her body in gentle long curves. A thread of fabric came out from the corner of her mouth, almost like a trail of saliva. She was chewing on it as she looked around to behold the new arrivals. “Welcome aboard!” she squeaked. “Where are you going?”
“We’re fetching another Fragment of Time,” Dema said as if it was obvious what she was talking about. “And you?”
Omi shrugged. “We’ve been stuck on this train for a while. Don’t really have a destination because Fen feels safer here.”
“Ah!” Dema put down her drink. “So who’s Fen?”
“My… caretaker, so to speak.”
“Why don’t you sit down with us for a while?” Ulber suggested, gesturing toward an empty seat in front of her. “I’m sure everyone would enjoy the company while we wait.”
Omi slurped up the rest of the thread and made a chewing motion with her jaw, making it seem like she was thinking about the offer. Then she shrugged and hopped forward with sudden speed, landing on the desk. She took out a yarn ball, dug into it with her finger, and effortlessly drew out the beginning of the string. She kept pulling it out more with her lips as she ate. “It’s a synthetic blend,” she said as the clothing hanging down her back fluttered — and it was only then that Theora realised they were wings.
This girl had four wings made of ragged clothing which she could apparently control. Theora’s envious gaze was glued to it for a bit too long, until she finally got self-conscious and looked away.
“Doesn’t taste as good as cotton but, like, it’s cheaper,” Omi continued to say. Then, her gaze fell upon the stack of documents in front of her, and she cheekily pulled them apart a bit, reading over everyone’s abilities. “Oh my, love looking at these. Always so interesting to see what everyone can do.”
At that point, Theora noticed Treeka was staring at the new arrival, craning her neck over the side of the pot to get a better look — so Theora reached out to slowly push the pot across the counter until it was next to the moth girl.
“Oh!” Omi said when she noticed the little spirit. “We have a cutie there. Hi!”
“She is cute, isn’t she?” Dema agreed with a wide smile, while Treeka turned her head to pout.
“I was just curious about the fabric you use. It seems soft. Did you make your wings yourself?”
“Well, they grow that way,” Omi said with a shrug, her mouth making clicking sounds as she ate. Then she turned to face Treeka more directly, putting the yarn out of the way but still keeping the string in her mouth. “A lot of me is made of fabric, that’s why I eat it.”
Ulber let out a giggle. “Yeah, so be careful around her, or she might eat your clothes away too!”
Omi rolled her eyes but didn’t respond. When she saw Treeka stare yearningly at her wings, she flapped one of them and pulled it up. She placed the fold right against the ledge of the pot, and Treeka hesitantly touched it.
“So rough!” Treeka said, but made it sound like praise, and Omi giggled at that.
“You like clothes?”
“Well, I like making them,” Treeka responded. “I have been growing my own fibre to make them from, but I was wondering how I can change up the texture a little.”
Theora thought the texture was already perfect, presently wearing clothing Treeka had made, but she understood the desire to diversify. She liked learning new baking recipes too after all, even if she was happy with the ones she already had.
Omi hummed in response, clipping off the thread she was chewing on with her teeth. “You should come over when I prepare my next meal, then. I was thinking of sewing something. The yarn’s just a snack.”
Treeka turned toward Theora, looking up with big eyes. “Can I?”
Meanwhile, Theora’s jaw dropped at the question. There was no way Treeka thought she had to ask, did she? “Obviously,” Theora replied after a start and added, “I can carry you to Omi’s room whenever you wish.”
With a happy nod, Treeka turned back around to feel the fabric of the wings a little more.
“My girlfriends would be really happy to meet more people too,” Omi chattered on happily, fidgeting under Treeka’s touch. “One of them is called Log, if you believe it. What’s your name?”
“Treeka!”
“Great! Good name.” Omi looked up to Theora, Dema and Bell, then said, “If you want, I can give you a little tour of the train. Just so you know your way around.” She turned to Ulber and cocked her head. “Where’s their room?”
“Undecided.” Ulber scratched her head, then looked at the ceiling as if to remember something. “The rooms next to Poxie’s are still free, so they can take them if you want to be close to each other. Carriage two is still completely empty, and five and six are mostly empty.”
“Damn, the train’s not very populated right now?” Dema asked, scratching her head. “Struggling or something?”
“I don’t think so,” Ulber said. “I believe it’s just been a while since we stopped at a large station. The train will fill up once we get to the Mists, probably. But the others say not to expect that to happen anytime soon.”
“Oh?” Dema tilted her head. She was leaning over the counter on her elbow. “Why’s that?”
Ulber gave a shrug, and picked the glass back up. She took a moment before replying: “Truth is, I’m still in training, so they haven’t told me everything yet.”
Haven’t told her everything yet. “Because there hasn’t been enough time?” Theora ventured.
“Ah, nah. The Campanella’s just a very intricate machine. So some info requires clearance.” She had an easygoing smile on her lips as she said it, and pushed some of her curly hair out of her face. Then, she hesitated for a moment, as if listening to something. “Ah. Well, speaking of, it appears the acclimatisation is finally finished! You may leave the lounge now, if you so wish. You are of course welcome to hang out whenever you would like, I enjoy the company!”
At that, Omi pushed herself up from the bar stool, and beamed at them. “Let me show you around?”
“Yeah!” Dema cheered. She looked back to Bell, who had mostly been silent. “You fine?”
“Yes, yes,” Bell answered with a bit of a drawl. “Sorry, just lost in thoughts a bit.”
The same was true for Theora. She couldn’t help but wonder. Haven’t told her everything yet. Because Ulber didn’t have clearance. That, at least, gave Theora a hint at the mystery.
It was an asymmetry of knowledge.
If there existed a system of exploitation on this train, its foundation was most likely, in itself, a secret.
