Breaking train rules

Sitting on the city-bound train, the aim is to shrink, become part of the carriage. Rough material on soft thighs, red, blue patterned with black greasy marks (hopefully spilt coffee or gum rather than anything worse). The seats uniformly sag in the middle where countless forms have previously slumped.  Commuter-chameleons Pied Pipering to where the streets have never been paved with gold. Never catch another’s eye – that’s the point, group-think maintains the cloak of invisibility unique to this liminal space. Snatched side-looks in window reflections judge bulk, coiled force; eyes meeting is the main threat, after all it is a point of entry into that person’s humanity. 

Being body-less, person-less persons on metros, trains and buses is a particularly odd requirement when entering these metal transportation tubes.  The rules are to be silent, turn away from those infidels coughing into gloves, micro-glare at leaking headphones, and shut eyes in incomprehension when those travelling in pairs or packs, laugh, talk, broadcasting their existence.

“Welcome to London folks, it is the end of your journey – not your life – but a journey that we have had the privilege of taking you on over this last hour or so.” A warm voice pipes through the air, a switch-back from the previous “See it, say it, sort it” white-noise on repeat. These worthy words lost their meaning years ago, after the commissioning headmaster had demanded a detention 1,000 repetitions per journey into infinity.  “Whilst you safely gather up your belongings, including children, unbrellas and phones, please think how you will start your next journey from the station you are arriving at.  This is a moment for us all to be better, be kind and make a difference.”   

The vacuum that has held passengers in stop motion has been broken; the carriages begin to be repressurised.   Air rushes in, heads rise as batteries are turned on by this Arecibo message.  The travellers start to unfurl from a dreamless sleep, wings unfolded from a cocoon where the art of being human had been forgotten. Glances are cast, smiles even, between the wakers… connections like roots from a seed, reaching out for nourishment and life.