The adrenaline that had surged through Kashem during the encounter with the 'Erasers' began to fade, leaving behind a cold, numbing exhaustion. He sat on the floor of the moving carriage, his back against the vibrating mahogany door. The blue envelope in his hand was no longer glowing, but it felt heavy, as if it contained the weight of an entire world.
The veiled woman remained at the end of the aisle, her silhouette blending into the shadows.
Kashem looked at his arm again. The lighthouse mark was still there, but it had dimmed to a faint, ghostly outline.
"You said we are going to 1884," Kashem said, his voice raspy. "But I'm a data analyst from 2026. How can I stop a disaster that happened over a century ago? It's already history."
"History is not a straight line, Kashem," the woman replied without turning around. "It is a network. A database. And in the year 1884, someone hacked that database. They planted a virus—a glitch that has been growing for a hundred and forty-two years. What you saw at the station tonight, the blue static deleting your world, was the final stage of that virus."
Before Kashem could ask more, a heavy, rhythmic thumping came from the door leading to the next carriage. Thump. Thump. Thump.
It wasn't a knock. It sounded like something heavy being dragged across the floor. The temperature in the carriage dropped further, and frost began to crawl up the windows in intricate, jagged patterns.
The veiled woman stiffened. "The Conductor is coming. Do not look him in the eye, and whatever you do, do not show him your ticket unless he asks."
The door at the front of the carriage swung open with a violent crash. A man stepped inside. He was wearing a tattered railway uniform from the British era, but his body was a terrifying sight. Half of his face was human, though pale and lifeless, while the other half was a mass of shifting black gears and ticking clockwork mechanisms. Instead of a lantern, he carried a rusted iron cage with a flickering blue soul trapped inside.
This was the Conductor of the Dead Express.
He walked down the aisle, his boots clicking like a ticking clock. As he passed the frozen passengers, he tapped their foreheads with a silver puncher. Each time he did, a faint puff of white mist escaped their lips.
He stopped right in front of Kashem. The ticking sound from his face grew louder, faster.
"Ticket," the Conductor rasped. His voice sounded like metal grinding against stone.
Kashem looked up, his heart freezing in his chest. He remembered the woman's warning, but the sheer pressure of the Conductor's presence made it hard to breathe. He looked at the blue envelope in his hand. Was this the ticket?
"He has the Analyst's pass," the veiled woman spoke up, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
The Conductor turned his mechanical eye toward the woman. The gears in his skull whirred aggressively. Then, he looked back at Kashem, leaning down until his cold, dead breath brushed against Kashem's cheek.
"The Analyst..." the Conductor whispered. "Many have tried to fix the glitch. All of them are now fuel for the engine. Do you think you are different, Subject 001?"
Suddenly, the rusted cage in the Conductor's hand flared with an angry red light. The soul inside began to scream—a sound that wasn't heard with ears, but felt directly in the soul.
"The engine is hungry," the Conductor growled. "If you cannot reach the 1884 station before the final cycle, you will take the place of the fuel."
He reached out a gloved hand toward Kashem's marked arm. Kashem flinched, but the Conductor only traced the outline of the lighthouse with a sharp, metallic fingernail.
"The Signal is weak," the Conductor noted, a hint of malice in his voice. "Find the first key in the next carriage, or the Erasers will return, and this time, even the envelope won't save you."
With a final, chilling click of his gears, the Conductor turned and marched toward the back of the train, the door slamming shut behind him.
Kashem slumped against the wall, gasping for air. "What was that? What did he mean by 'fuel'?"
The woman finally turned toward him. Through the thin fabric of her veil, Kashem thought he saw a flash of silver eyes. "This train runs on the memories of the deleted. If you fail to fix the glitch in 1884, you, your grandfather, and your entire world will become the coal that keeps this engine moving through the void."
She pointed toward the door the Conductor had just walked through. "The next carriage is the Library of Lost Data. The first key to the 1884 disaster is hidden there. Go, Kashem. We are running out of time."
Kashem stood up, his legs still shaking. He looked at the door. He was no longer just a man trying to survive; he was a man on a mission to save reality itself. He gripped the blue envelope, stepped forward, and pushed the door open.