The Railroad - Terminus - 6.3
Imported from SF2 with no description.
The term "boat" might be misleading. To be more precise, this is more like a small craft.
As we sailed through this underground palace-like waterway, I began to understand why Bert said we wouldn't be able to remember it—at least, that's what I thought. Every fork in the waterway seemed to be cut from the same mold, without any markings or signs. If I fell overboard here, I'd probably be lost forever, unable to find my way out.
With that thought, I took a step back, deciding it was best to stay as far away from the edge of the boat as possible.
74258, however, showed an excessive interest in the strangely colored water, clearly lost in his own world again. His nose was almost dipping into it.
As for Bert, the moment he boarded the boat, he nestled between a few crates, rested his head on his arms, crossed his legs, and did who knows what. In any case, he wasn’t interacting with us anymore.
Feeling a bit bored, I decided to strike up a conversation with Bob.
The Rat was standing at the controls in the middle of the boat, occasionally glancing down to check the instruments.
“Hey,” I mustered the courage to overcome my awkwardness, trying to make up for my previous rude behavior. “Is everything going smoothly?”
“A regular day,” Bob glanced at me and smiled. “And you, still holding up with the smell?” He raised his right hand and drew a circle in the air with his index finger.
“Oh, it’s like being home again!” I felt the corners of my mouth involuntarily lift. “Fields after the rain smell pretty much the same.”
Bob chuckled twice and then looked down, swiping a few times on the control interface of the instrument panel.
“I get it. Our world is like a big aquarium, interconnected and influencing each other.” He stroked his beard and continued. “Taking in the city’s waste must feel pretty awful.”
“It’s not always that bad out in the fields,” I mentally dusted off memories, recalling moments that left me in awe. “Endless crops swaying in the wind, it’s actually quite beautiful. During pollination and harvest seasons, you can smell the fragrance of hay and alfalfa in the air.”
“I never knew foxes could be poets,” Bob teased, giving me a glance that made me a bit self-conscious. “I hope I get the chance to see it with my own eyes someday.”
“Once this thing’s off, I’d be happy to give you a full tour,” I said, tugging at the collar around my neck.
“I look forward to that day,” the Rat gave me a big smile before turning back to check the instrument panel again.
“Does he always do that?” To avoid letting the conversation die down, I randomly picked a topic, gesturing with my thumb to the back where the Labrador was nestled among the crates. “Fall asleep as soon as he gets on the boat?”
“Oh, poor Bert, that must be pretty uncomfortable for him,” Bob turned his head slightly to glance at the yellow dog. “I always feel guilty about it.”
“Drunk?” I couldn’t quite understand what Bob meant. If that little bit of brandy was enough to knock him out, why did he drink it in the first place? “Seasick?” Getting seasick in the sewers would be quite something…
“Central nervous system depressants cut off his connection to his abilities,” Bob raised an eyebrow and gave me a look. “For most psychics, that’s an extremely uncomfortable experience, like being blinded or having your limbs cut off.”
The Rat’s description was a little too vivid, sending a shiver down my spine. I glanced back to check on Bert. Personally, I didn’t think he looked that bad. Then, I quickly recalled Hunter's abrupt behavior in the end.
“Morphine… too?” Drawing on my poor knowledge of pharmacology, I seemed to remember hearing something like that.
“Yes.” Bob rubbed his chin as he spoke. “Basically, anything that affects neural transmission. Psychics are particularly sensitive to it, especially the weaker ones.”
That explained a lot. Clearly, before reaching an irreversible sedative effect, the excessive morphine had caused some negative impact on Hunter.
“Weaker?” I suddenly noticed the adjective Bob had used. It was hard for me to put the gentle yellow dog and the vicious chocolate Labrador in the same frame.
“It’s not meant as an insult. But no matter how much I respect Bert or how capable he is, the fact remains.” Bob let out a soft chuckle. “He’s shown you the trick he made the bullet bounce, right? That’s his limit. For psychics of that level, even a sip of alcohol can make them unable to rally their consciousness.”
“But if that’s the case,” I glanced at Bert again, doubting whether I had just heard him humming a tune. “Why does Bert torture himself like that?”
“Consciousness has often been compared to a flame. Whoever made that connection probably didn’t realize how accurate they were.” Bob explained. “A psychic’s flame burns far brighter than that of us ordinary folk. If Bert doesn’t cut off his connection to his abilities, to anyone trying to track us, we’d be like a giant neon sign in the dead of night.”
“Oh,” I responded, unsure if I had fully grasped what he meant. In any case, Bert, like my collar, was constantly emitting a signal that said, "I’m here."
“The blindfold too. Some psychics can extract memories, regardless of the person’s will,” Bob shuddered. “When the things in your head aren’t safe anymore, it’s truly terrifying.”
“Sounds like he’s very cautious,” I said, tapping the collar with my fingernail. “But this journey’s been a lot easier than I expected. Aside from that incident at the Green katydids Manor, we haven’t encountered much trouble.”
“Easy... well, that’s one way to put it.” Bob pulled a silver foil package from his pocket, opened it, and popped something into his mouth to chew. “That was the goal from the start…”
I tilted my head, giving Bob a look that said I needed more explanation.
“Do you know how long the Railroad has taken to build all this? Including the transcontinental transport network, the hidden bases at different levels all over the place, and gaining support from the Council?” Bob said, chewing on whatever was in his mouth. “Over a thousand years. The Railroad has spent more than a thousand years building all of this.”
“More than a thousand years?” I asked, confused. “But… isn’t that older than the Empire itself?”
“Exactly,” the Rat responded calmly. “Do you think those who longed for freedom and refused to be enslaved only appeared after the Empire was established?”
I had never considered that question before, but the answer was obvious.
“While we might call it ‘easy,’ just this year, three members were hanged—and that’s just in the Americas.” Bob pulled down the lever, steering the boat into a narrow waterway. “The groundwork laid by those who came before allows us to take steps forward today.”
“I’m sorry…” I lowered my gaze and whispered. “That’s not what I meant…”
“I know you didn’t mean it that way. I just want to remind you not to say that in front of Bert,” Bob turned around and gave me a somewhat tired smile, revealing his large front teeth. “We may not hear the stories of those who never reached the terminus, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t people who remember and miss them.”
“They… were all Bert’s friends?” I asked, referring to those who never made it to the end.
“More or less, I guess. One of them was Bert’s mentor,” Bob took out his terminal and began cross-referencing something with the boat's system. “Sometimes I really wonder how he manages to keep smiling.”
Once again, Hunter's almost maniacal mutterings echoed in my ears, but I didn’t think that was the same as Bert's situation. It felt like I was slowly starting to distinguish what true strength was—even if I didn’t know much about this yellow dog.
“We’re almost there,” Bob’s voice pulled my attention back.
“Huh, already?” I scratched the back of my head and glanced back at Bert and 74258, both still in the same positions as when they first boarded the boat.
“We’ve traveled more than thirty kilometers already,” Bob chuckled. “The dim environment of the sewers and the repetitive scenery can easily make you lose track of time.”
I looked around; it really didn’t seem much different from where we had started.
“Sorry…” I scratched my ear, feeling a bit awkward as I spoke to Bob. “I actually wanted to get to know you better.”
“Oh, is that so?” The Rat glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’d still steer the conversation away from that.” Maybe sensing my confusion, he added, “For safety reasons.”
“But you’ve told me a lot about Bert,” I said, even more confused. “You even told me about the limits of his abilities.” I was guessing, but for psychics, that seemed like a pretty important thing.
"He mentioned it before we got on the boat, didn’t he? You can’t remember. See? You’ve already forgotten, haven’t you?" Bob teased me kindly, making me try hard to recall our entire conversation, including what Bert had said before we boarded. "If I weren’t in constant contact with them, I would also gradually forget everything related to psychics, until only some unreliable fragments of memory remained." The Rat shrugged. "It’s probably some kind of defense mechanism, though the psychics have never clearly explained it."
"Anyway..." I extended my right hand toward Bob. "It was nice to meet you, and thank you for giving us a ride."
"Just fulfilling my duty," Bob smiled and shook my hand. His small palm was much stronger than I had imagined. "I’m really looking forward to your countryside tour."
"Haha!" I imagined the scene of us riding on a high-speed railcar together. "No problem."
As soon as we docked, Bert got up. He signaled for us to disembark first, then had a brief conversation with Bob before leaving.
Before Bob steered the small boat back into the dim sewers, he waved goodbye to us.
Even after the ripples on the water had settled back to calm, I was still troubled by the question that had surfaced when I first met Bob—why had I never noticed the existence of Rats before? Surely it wasn’t because they also had some kind of protection similar to psychics that made others unable to remember them?
So, how many things in this world do I think I know, but in reality, turn a blind eye to?
I think I’m rolling toward the valley of despair, and hope has already hit rock bottom.
Shaking my head, I heard 74258 calling out to me. I turned around and walked toward my accomplice.