by Peter Spokes
I looked behind me. “I’m… just waiting for the next train.”
“Oh no. People arrive, board the carriages and depart. Nobody ever waits for the trains.”
I analysed the argument for a second wondering if I were missing something. “Well, I guess I’ve no choice but to make myself comfortable until the next one arrives,” I said looking around and noticing the absence of benches.
“Oh no!” he said – again. “The next train is fully booked.”
“What!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but all the carriages are booked up well in advance – often many years before they are used.”
He looked up at a high window to the right of the steps. “There has been quite an increase in passengers…” the guard continued returning his gaze to me, “… from this platform in the time I’ve been here. In fact, we have had to borrow several carriages from the other platform and it was fortunate that their passenger numbers have dropped off in recent times.”
“But look around you,” I said trying to keep calm; “there is no one else here!”
“Please keep your voice down, sir,” he said.
I looked around at the vacant platform and repeated quieter… “But there’s no one else here!”
The guard coughed. “As I have said, they have already boarded. We employ a very efficient booking system…” he said proudly, “… that ensures all passengers reach their destination on time… but clearly there is some error here,” he conceded. “Could I see your ticket?”
I reached into my back pocket and brought out the ticket.
He looked at it for several moments and then shook his head.
“Well… it appears okay,” he said looking worried. “Would you mind following me to the ticket inspector? Perhaps she can shed some light on this.”
I shrugged and followed the guard back up the steps to a small booth close to where I had got the ticket.
“Hey,” he said to a young woman within the booth.
“Whasupp?” she replied much to my annoyance. The younger generation, I thought. One day in the future I was certain mankind would have reverted to grunting and thumping their chests.
“I found this chap waiting on the platform,” the guard said addressing the young lady.
“What? You’re joking; did he not see the signs? Did you tell him there’s no waiting?”
“I did, but his ticket looks good.”
“Nonsense; let me see it.”
They both looked at me and so I produced, once again from my back pocket, the ticket.
“Hmm, looks good to me,” she said and passed it back to me.
“So why is he waiting on the platform?” the guard said.
“I don’t know but I think we should see the station master,” she said in a hushed tone.
“You think it’s that serious?”
“If it’s not resolved soon, it will be – and he won’t be happy to be told later.”
“Come with us,” the ticket inspector said, and so I followed the guard and the ticket inspector through some doors to another office.
I entered a room with an extraordinarily large window that allowed observation of two platforms, one of which I recognised as the one I had just left.
An old man with a long beard and wearing a baseball cap – the wrong way round – looked up as we entered. His feet rested up on the console before him.
The ticket inspector and guard walked over and began conversing with the old man so I wandered over to the window and looked out at the platforms. It was the one on the right that I had just left. I looked over at the other on my left.
Not unexpectedly, it looked identical, but then I noticed the pictures on the walls were different. I squinted and recognised Audrey Hepburn, Pope Jean-Paul and Mother Teresa.
Confused, I looked back as the ticket inspector was addressing the station master.
“Hmm… this is indeed very odd, Lilith,” he said.
The guard opened his mouth to speak but was waved away by the station master.
“It is not right, Samael,” he said looking to the guard and then down at the instrumentation before him.
Then he looked up at me.
I moved closer.
“What is your name and date of birth?”
I gave him the information.
“Can you tell me why you are here?” he said in a deep tone.
“Erh… heart attack… I think…” I said, and then added sheepishly, “bit overweight…” The others looked at my stomach as I tried to hold it in. “…Okay, quite a bit overweight but I’m big boned!” I protested and continued, “… and I drank a bit… a lot… and smoked a bit too… and there were the drugs…”
“Hmmm, can I look at your ticket?” the station master asked with some reproach.
Once again, I removed the ticket from my back pocket and passed it to the station master.
He looked at it closely for several moments before looking up and smiled at the ticket inspector and guard.
“I see the problem here. See how the corner is missing,” he said holding up the ticket. “The corner is torn off making it look like a ticket for those boarding the carriages on the right platform. Perhaps it was ripped off when it was acquired – with some apparent haste – from the machine. He’s on the wrong platform.”
He lifted a radio. “Hey, Michael, are you missing anyone?”
“Erh yeah, how do you know? Gabe has just done a repeat count and… yeah… we’re one short… a very fat guy apparently, according to his details…”
“Hey!” I objected.
“Well, he’s up here; I’ll send him down,” the station master said ignoring me.
I turned to watch Samael the Guard and Lilith the Ticket Inspector leave and turned to the station master. He smiled at me and despite the so-very-wrong wearing of the baseball cap, he exuded a feeling of ‘cool’; a sense of ‘chilled’.
“There are plenty of seats available on the carriages on the left platform. It’s a shame that they are not as busy as they once were but I guess one man’s meat is another man’s poison.”
He paused, “But I do wonder how Lucifer is able to cope.”
Somewhat awkwardly, I forced a smile and left the room and walked the steps down to the left platform.