Miracle in the Machine, pt. 1 (Or: My Life if My Life Were Interesting, Part the First)

I sat on the train, swaying in my seat to the soft rolling motion of the chassis as its wheels bounced off the joints in the rail. Looking up at the gauges, I saw that we weren't making track speed.

"Train!" I shouted, "Speed up Train, we're falling behind."

My curse was inaudible over the huffing and chuffing of the engine's hot breath.

"Train goddamn you go faster!" I yelled again as I beat on the wall with a wrench. After a few more solid whacks echoed through the interior of the cab something stirred.

"What's the matter, Patrick?" Train said sleepily. The windows in the engine began to mist as a drooping mouth next to the gauges began to speak. A thin trickle of steam poured out between its lips, as though it were exhaling a cigarette. It bore with it a muted smell of diesel and flame, locomotive breath. I didn't really notice anymore.

"Train," I said calmly, "You fell asleep again, pick up the pace or we won't make it to the St. Paul depot in time." I tried to seem relaxed, Train was easily upset if it thought you were angry at it. You'd think somewhere in its several hundred ton frame they'd have put in a brain more complicated than a five-year-old's. Then again, it didn't take much thought to be a train.

"Okay Patrick." Train replied, its gruesome brass lips somehow curving into an idiot smile. The cab jolted as Train picked up speed, snapping the freight cars it was dragging. "Sorry Patrick," It mumbled.

I opened a window to let the interior air out. We sat in silence as I watched the thin strands of rusted steel the guided us glitter in the sunset. They looked like twin strands of fire cutting into the snow.

"Patrick?" The cab felt like a steamroom again.

"Yes, Train?"

"Are you upset with me?"

Oh no. I thought to myself. Not this talk again. "No Train, why would I be?"

"I fell asleep again Patrick... I don't mean to, it's just... I get so tired out here, far away from the Center."

"I know Train, it's OK, we'll get you back soon enough. Then you can get all filled up and rarin' to go."

There was another pause, and then, "Patrick?"

"Yes Train?"

"Do you like me, Patrick?"

I was startled for a moment. I can't say I expected that question, in fact, I'm pretty sure all PantheoCorp equipment was devised to avoid personal relationships with the end-user.

I tried to keep my voice warm. I wasn't sure if I was tired or if the part of my mind that usually handled these moments had finally given out. Don't take me the wrong way, I wasn't angry, or even frustrated with Train's seemingly bottomless pit of moments like this. It all just seemed so... so... Well, its a pretty stupid scenario, you know? "Yes Train," I said, "I like you."

The headlight-eyes shone a little brighter. The thick brass lips held their ugly smile.

"I like you too Patrick."

"That's, that's great Train."

Another mile chugged by.

"Patrick?"

"Yes, Train."

"I like being a Train."

"Good," I muttered. I then sighed and shook my head.

I hate my job.