The Railroad - Terminus - 6.4
Imported from SF2 with no description.
"I've been wondering if 'railroad' is meant to be taken literally," I stared at the tunnel ahead, stretching out endlessly in both directions. "Still, this is... quite interesting." With a clattering sound, a metal carriage stopped at our platform, following the tracks laid within the tunnel.
"There were a lot of considerations in the design, so no system upgrades were made, either software or hardware." Bert entered the carriage first and waved at us. "Don’t be fooled by how this thing looks like a century-old relic; even an electromagnetic pulse couldn’t take it down!"
I didn’t want to criticize the organization that was helping us escape, so I kept my opinions to myself, maintaining an open sense of curiosity as I watched Bert busying himself at the control panel. Meanwhile, 74258 quickly figured out how the sleeper beds worked, pulling one down from its folded position on the wall and collapsing onto it.
Just as I’d observed before, the fox wasn’t exactly a fan of ‘hiking’. We had spent hours navigating the complex and winding maze of the sewers, and he was probably exhausted.
I picked up the luggage the fox had thrown aside, found a space that seemed meant for storage, and placed it there. When I returned to check on 74258, I saw that he had already fallen asleep.
Watching his slightly parted mouth and the gentle rise and fall of his chest made me chuckle quietly to myself. I turned to lower the sleeper bed on the other side but couldn’t figure out how.
"There's a clasp here, you need to release it first." Bert appeared next to me at some point, helping my fumbling hands.
"Oh, thanks." Once I managed to get it right, I thanked him and volunteered to help lower his sleeper bed too.
The Labrador kept his friendly smile the whole time, not commenting on how I’d only made things harder. That just made my ears feel even hotter.
For a good while after that, Bert was engrossed in reading something on his terminal. I glanced at 74258 again, who had turned over and mumbled something in his sleep, then confirmed that I wasn’t feeling the least bit sleepy.
"I thought there wasn’t any network connection here," I said casually, just as Bert suddenly frowned and shot me a glance before quickly looking away.
"The Railroad uses its own line connection; it’s a bit different." Bert scratched his ear with mild frustration and put the terminal back on his arm. "You guys are from Texas, right?"
"Yeah." I sensed something off and pricked my ears. "Why do you ask?"
"There’s been a change in the situation." Bert’s tone was natural, but I could tell he was hiding something. "I’ll explain everything once we reach Greenland."
"Oh, okay." I could only respond that way, especially since I had just confirmed that my own terminal still had no signal. As suspicious as Bert’s behavior was, I couldn’t see how pressing him for answers would help.
In the small carriage, there was the occasional slight sway, causing the hanging rings above us to swing gently. I pretended to be interested in their function, carefully observing them to avoid the awkward silence between Bert and me in the dim light.
"Not being remembered feels pretty awful, doesn’t it?" Eventually, I couldn’t bear the tension any longer and voiced my thoughts.
"‘I’ can be remembered," Bert glanced at me, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "What you can’t remember are the things I’ve done and some of the related conversations."
"How does that work?" Bob had mentioned psychics who could read memories, so does that mean there are also psychics who can directly alter them?
"You’d have to ask the herbivores." Bert gave a bitter smile and shook his head. "I failed all the mental wave courses, just like many other carnivores."
Given that I might actually forget this conversation later, I didn’t push the topic any further.
"So why did you decide to... do this?" I couldn’t find a better term. As a species whose future was predetermined at birth, I never had the chance to discuss these kinds of things with others. "Your lineage should still be pretty well-regarded, right?" I was hesitant to directly point out that he looked like a crossbreed, fearing it might be offensive.
"For us golden retriever and Labrador crossbreed, life isn’t as easy as outsiders think. Having both bloodlines doesn’t mean we’re accepted by either side. Instead, we’re stuck in a narrow gap, with towering cliffs on either side that stretch endlessly." Bert tilted his head slightly, seemingly amused by the words I chose. "The only thing that can fit in that gap is a murky gray area. The only way to survive there is to join various under-the-table organizations. The tasks the higher-ups don’t want to dirty their hands with get handed off to us. Essentially, we’re expendable." Bert said calmly. "The group I belong to mainly deals with smuggling. Although there are some... questionable tasks, it’s not the worst out there. And because of this, I had a few chances to come into contact with the Railroad."
Bert looked up and gazed out the window. I wasn’t sure what he saw in the rocky wall that seemed no different from the rest.
"At first, I fantasized about escaping far away with their help and starting over. After all, some people have managed to do that. But I know too many secrets, so I was well aware that it wasn’t possible." Bert gave me a bitter smile. "But I was incredibly lucky to be chosen by the Council." He looked down at his palm as he continued. "Suddenly, I was able to stand on equal footing with the ‘purebreds’ I had always looked up to." Slowly, Bert curled his fingers into a fist. "It felt amazing. But strangely enough, after completing my training, I came back to my old line of work, returning to the very life I once desperately wanted to escape. Even I’m a bit surprised by my own decision." He chuckled and rubbed his eyes. "You should’ve seen how proud I was during the deployment ceremony, declaring my allegiance!"
Bert took a deep breath and stretched his upper body, a smile spreading across his face.
"So if you ask why I decided to do ‘this,’ I’d say it’s for those who weren’t as fortunate," the Labrador said softly, meeting my gaze. "And for my past self."
I mulled over Bert’s words, deep in thought.
"I never imagined that pedigrees would face this kind of dilemma," I murmured, lightly touching my collar, feeling the strange blend of metal and high-polymer materials.
"Of course, I’m not comparing my situation to yours—it’s worlds apart." Bert lowered his gaze and said quietly.
"I think if we had more chances to communicate, there wouldn’t be so much misunderstanding." I scratched my right cheek. "It looks like I really need to figure out a way to fulfill my promise of taking Bob on a tour."
"Haha, that sounds great." Bert laughed, his brown eyes narrowing slightly. "But you know Bob can’t leave the sewers, right?"
"What?" I suddenly understood why I’d never seen a sewer rat before, and Bob’s expression when he said, ‘I’m looking forward to it.’ "Do they also have... collars?" Perhaps, like us, there was some sort of system that restricted their movement.
"We all have our own collars," Bert murmured. "But the reason sewer rats are confined isn’t that. It’s more of a... cultural thing."
Bert phrased it cautiously, but I could understand the gist of what he was getting at.
"I didn’t even know they existed..." A strange emptiness washed over me, as if something was flowing out from a hollow in my chest.
So... how many people don’t know we exist? Don’t know what the foxes are going through?
I never thought about where the clean water came from because it seemed so natural. When others use the food synthesizer, do they wonder where the organic precursors come from?
It seemed like our world had been stripped apart in some way, and everyone had lost their connection... or maybe that was the intention all along?
I lightly tapped my collar with my fingernail, a thought beginning to take shape. Gaining freedom was only the first step, and perhaps restoring those connections would be the next stage. Like decoding a program...
"Don’t be too hard on yourself. Rome wasn’t built—or destroyed—in a day," Bert said, giving me an encouraging smile. "But being willing to try and understand is a crucial starting point."
Bert then told me that he was still dealing with the lingering effects of alcohol, so he went off to rest.
With nothing else to do, I lay down on my sleeper bed as well.
Staring at the occasionally swaying hanging rings above, glancing at the endless rock wall outside the window, and feeling the vibrations beneath me, accompanied by the low clattering sounds...
How much of my conversation with Bert would I eventually forget?
Slowly closing my eyes and clenching my fists, I tried to hold on to the feelings that welled up from the emptiness in my chest during this sleepless time.
I eventually managed to fall asleep and had a dream.
In the haze, I seemed to recall fragments of something, about… Adam explaining the meaning of names to me.
Of course, I knew this scene was just a fantasy. Back then, we should have had collars around our necks.
But, "back then," huh?
I sighed, not too fond of how my subconscious had reminded me of the inescapable restraint around my neck.
Sitting up, I brushed my messy fur and took a moment to tidy myself.
"Hey, welcome to the team." I looked up just in time to catch a foil-wrapped package Burt tossed my way. "Strawberry flavor."
He winked at me before turning back to continue his conversation with 74258.
As I unwrapped the package and took a bite of the strawberry-flavored ration, I wondered what they were talking about.
It tasted exactly like the low-tier synthetic food, yet it sparked some strange sense of familiarity. Looks like I’ve eaten too much tasteless stuff to the point where I was starting to miss this strawberry flavor that clearly had nothing to do with actual strawberries.
74258 and Burt laughed at something, exchanging various hand gestures in amusement.
The sight triggered an uncomfortable feeling in me.
Rationalism, I cursed that chocolate Labrador... Hunter really did leave a mark on me. Would I have to live with this shadow for the rest of my life? I already blew his brains out, so I couldn’t think of a more concrete way to overcome my inner demons.
But then again, should we really trust Burt? Even though we had no grounds to distrust him, given the awful things that had happened, it would be too stupid not to be a bit more wary of a Labrador.
I carefully observed the yellow dog again, trying to find any suspicious signs.
But I didn’t even know what "suspicious" would look like, so of course, I found nothing. At least I could confirm he didn’t seem to have any weapons on him, which might give us a slight advantage.
Glancing at the Hunter’s gun strapped to 74258’s waist, I felt a bit more at ease.
Still, it wasn’t impossible that Burt was trying to give us this false sense of security. After all, he’d handled that gun—who knew if he’d tampered with it? And I even ate the food he gave me! The packaging was intact, but that didn’t mean the contents were safe. It’d be too easy to add something extra without leaving any trace—maybe the strawberry flavor was there to mask some off taste!
I sighed. I decided I needed to pay more attention to this seemingly friendly crossbreed dog. But if I kept doubting him without reason, every move Burt made would seem suspicious, because I’d be seeing what I wanted to see.
The yellow dog seemed to sense my thoughts, raising an eyebrow and giving me a concerned look.
All I could do was put on a perfectly normal smile and pretend I hadn’t just gone through an over-the-top internal monologue. I casually took another bite of the strawberry-flavored ration as if nothing was on my mind.
Burt seemed convinced, shrugging and turning back to continue his conversation with 74258.
Relieved, I scratched my ear in embarrassment and finished off the rest of the ration.
I was becoming more and more certain that he could actually sense my thoughts.
I tried forcing myself to recall any rumors about psychics with abilities like that, but it was surprisingly difficult. I deeply understood what Bob meant when he said the things in your own head were no longer safe—it was terrifying. But I would probably forget about it eventually, which made things even more complicated.
Suddenly, a melodious sound pulled me out of my thoughts.
I looked up to see Burt holding a silver rectangular box to his mouth, pressing his left palm against one end, adjusting the angle slightly as he changed notes.
It was a harmonica. There was an older fox in Fourth team who used to play one, and its sound was quite memorable.
The tone was… a bit desolate and lonely, yet somehow so light and carefree, like embarking on an uncertain journey but stepping forward with the confidence that the destination lay just ahead.
I could understand. This was the second melody of the railroad.
I hadn’t planned to write my own version, but something in the tune resonated naturally with the emotions deep within me, bringing forth a flood of memories.
74258 seemed deeply focused, his black ears standing stiffly upright. Burt was patient, repeating certain passages for the fox over and over.
And I, I just watched quietly, allowing my thoughts to drift far away to that distant endpoint across the sea, imagining what the future might look like.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the music eventually came to an end.
"I never thought I’d hear the second melody," 74258 said, sitting down beside me.
Burt was back at the control panel, busy with something, occasionally using his terminal, as if conversing with someone. His tail would twitch from time to time, and you could judge the yellow dog’s mood from its movements.
"I didn’t pay much attention to it," I admitted, wondering if Adam might better understand 74258’s feelings.
"Either way, I’m taking this as a good omen," 74258 said with a smile, removing his terminal from his arm.
"A good omen…?" I hadn’t expected the fox to use such superstitious language.
"Oh, come on." He rolled his eyes mockingly. "Might as well burn me alive."
I just shrugged, not intending to comment further.
"Anyway," 74258 placed a silver rectangle between us and pulled out a cable, connecting it to his terminal. "Burt lent us this. Your terminal must be running low on battery too, right?"
Indeed, we had been underground without sunlight for quite some time. Even though I hadn’t used it much since losing network access, it had been too long since I last charged it. I pulled out my terminal and the cable, connecting it to Burt’s portable power source.
"And… um… how should I put this?" 74258 scratched his ear, hesitantly glancing at me before turning back to his terminal. "Do you remember the virus I mentioned earlier?"
I nodded, knowing he was talking about the key to unlock all the collars.
"I’ve actually completed most of the basic framework..." The fox entered a few commands, and my terminal pinged with a notification to accept the file. "But to perfect the coding will take a lot more work." He set down his terminal and turned to face me. "When I said, 'Together, we can unshackle everyone's collars,' I was serious."
"So was I." I met his olive-green eyes, confirming my thoughts.
74258 nodded and looked down at his terminal. I started reviewing his code—it was still as intricately constructed as a piece of art.
"Maybe I can tell the Railroad about this once it’s done," 74258 glanced at Burt’s back. "It could be a huge help for their operations."
"Sounds reasonable," I replied, establishing a sync connection with 74258’s terminal. Several split windows and workspaces appeared on the screen.
"Let’s get started then," 74258 said, explaining the parts he’d already completed and where he needed my assistance.