in the ataraxis of aftermath

ningen no jiko station

Naoko waited, boots tucked neatly behind the faded yellow line. A tired sort of rumbling could be heard a fair distance away, faint screechings and skiddings of the wheels on the rusted track. The air was warm and heavy through the polypropylene of her mask, and she tugged absently on its strings. Ripples sprouted in the puddles at her feet, heralding the train's arrival, calming only when the train huffed to a stop.

As the doors slid open, a crackly announcement sounded from inside. Naoko heard the words in her head clearly, branded into her hippocampus despite the automated audio having long lost any semblance of coherent enunciation.

This is an evacuation announcement. Will all members of the public and staff please leave the station by walking out through the nearest exit. Please ensure that you take all of your personal belongings with you. There is no need to run.

She stepped through the doors. The thick rubber of her boots clinked against the shards of broken glass as she took a seat. With another puff and frizzled announcement, the train's doors shut tightly, and the engine started again.

This station was her least favorite, Naoko decided, because the train's departure was always clunky and shuddering, heaving to pull itself over the many scattered bones of people who'd been a lot braver than she had.

As the train pulled out of the station, the sun burst from behind buildings, setting everything aflame with the rosy, afternoon glow. The golden light skimmed off of the gray-black water, the tide lapping at the square rooftops and edges of the train track.

The train sped past the landscape. A pelican blinked its three eyes at it, folding another straw into its nest. Pigeons squawked as it thundered by, flapping their tattered wings. Sea lions raised their heads warily, dark, crusted blood flaking off of their snouts and chins.

Naoko hugged her backpack closer to her chest, vying to stay awake as the rapidly darkening sky and steady drumming of train against track tried to convince her otherwise. She focused on breathing through her mask, inhaling and exhaling, pushing and pulling the crisp, starched fabric on and off of her lips.

It must have worked, because Naoko arrived at the train's final stop with her eyes open and consciousness still intact. Her legs wobbled a bit as she stood and swung her backpack over her shoulder, and the compartment's gentle swaying as the train slowed to a stop did not help matters. But she had made it.

Naoko hopped over the gap, allowing herself a small, contented sigh at the sight of the cracked white tiles and the soft curve of the train's garage in the distance. She padded through the inky puddles and up the rusted escalator, hopping over the ticket gates as she passed. Naoko wove her way through the station until she reached the ticket office. Taking the frail key from inside the front pocket of her waders, she unlocked it and stepped inside.

The curtains were shut, but a power generator was tucked somewhere underneath the counter, and Naoko felt for the switch. Soon, tiny fairy lights flickered to life, illuminating the inside of the office. A large map of train routes hung on one wall, notes and arrows carefully penned on it in neat but faded ink. Most of the furniture had been cleared out, leaving just a desk and chair. A stack of books sat in the corner, next to a faded futon and a large, battered safe.

Naoko knelt in front of the safe, smoothly entering the password and opening it. Inside were crammed bottles of water and various foodstuffs. She took one of the bottles of water, only halfway full, and a packet of crackers. She pulled off her mask and ate slowly, savoring every mouthful.

From somewhere outside, Naoko could hear the long, low notes of the sky whales as they began to sing. Particularly deep voices made the ground rumble underneath her. As more of the sky whales joined in, their song crescendoed. The different voices blended and coalesced, brushing together as easily as red brick dust against doors and countertops.

The sky whales sang for their children, their family, their pod, and something else Naoko couldn't quite place.

It was lovely and lonely, all at once.