Three years ago, I set out on a journey. I packed my life into a bag, said goodbye to all my family and friends and left my neighborhood. I’m not sure I really wanted to leave, but when duty called, I couldn’t not answer. I rode the ZF line out of my neighborhood, and kept riding it until I started to see lines that led to neighborhoods I’d never heard of. The city is enormous. No one I knew had ever been to the edge. Hell, some of them weren’t sure there was an edge. It’s commonly accepted that the city doesn’t go on forever, but all we have to go on are third and fourth hand accounts. My mom’s second wife’s brother’s personal trainer claims she made it to the edge once, but from what she said, we can’t be sure that it wasn’t just another park. Even though it’s not the only reason, it’s part of why I left. Our city is huge and I wanted to see more of it.
CUH-CLUNK.
The jostling on the train shook me awake. How many mornings have been exactly like this? I glanced around the car and my eyes passed over half a dozen other people who were just waking up. I didn’t know how far they still had to go, but for me, this was my final day. I reached into my rucksack and withdrew my dented travel mug. The logo of some chain of coffee shops I’d passed a couple years back adorned the side. Nearly three years ago now. I got up from where I’d been sleeping and sidled over to the coffee dispenser and refilled my mug. As the machine dripped coffee into my mug, I stared absentmindedly out the window at the crystal obelisks of skyscrapers outside. Three years, and nothing’s changed. If it weren’t for the different people, different street layout and slight variations on the architecture, it wouldn’t take much to convince me I hadn’t left.
I returned to my seat and picked up my phone. It hadn’t worked for awhile now. It lost its signal around week two. It felt like my heart had disconnected as much as the phone had. I lost more than a day to trying to find a new phone, but in the end, I didn’t have any luck. Where I ended up, no one spoke my language and none of the stores accepted my money. If I didn’t have a Plat Pass, I’d probably have starved back then. I took a gulp of coffee. Same shit... I think I got this mug around that time too. It’s served me well.
CUH-CLUNK.
About a year ago, I thought I couldn’t make. Was pretty sure I’d die in some alleyway or side street that no one had ever heard of. I was wandering around in a station, Mejetro or something like that, and some absolute asshole jumped me. Now, I’ve never been in a fight in my life, so I panicked and started swinging. It didn’t take long for him to get off me and start running, but I didn’t even realize until later that the bastard had taken my Platinum Pass. I lost six weeks wandering the streets and somewhere in there, I dented my travel mug, probably in a fight over whatever resources there were to fight over. Then one day, I got desperate, or crazy and snuck onto a train. I knew I’d be fucked if I was caught, but it wasn’t like I had much to lose at that point. Somehow though, I wasn’t and I even managed to nick a Gold Pass from the lost and found. It wasn’t keyed to my name, but as long as I only interacted with kiosks and vending machines, that wouldn’t pose much of a problem. There have been a couple hiccups since then, but nothing major enough to halt me for more than a couple hours.
CUH-CLUNK.
I chugged the rest of my coffee and took one more look at everyone in the car with me. Some of them looked like they’d just started a few days ago and even though I found myself pitying them, I also kind of hoped they would have a better experience than me. I got to my feet and strode to the bathroom to get changed. I pulled on the one piece of clothing that remained untouched, my pantsuit, and locked eyes with my reflection in the mirror. You’ve got this! I felt the train come to a stop. This’ll all have been worth it! I ran out of the bathroom and almost forgot to grab my bag on my way out the door. My new employment will make this all worth it!