The Silver Falcon

Part 1

A shikra floated through the sky, so high above it was only a dark line against the few brave clouds. Outside it was a hot, humid summer day, the kind I remembered well from my youth, but the interior of the train was cool. I stared up through the glass sky-light, for a moment imagining what the falcon saw below; green stretched as far as the eye could see, marked with the overflowing tops of banyan trees and the orange-red leaves of the gulmohar tree. Then, weaving through them all and surging forward like a liquid, metal river: The Silver Falcon.

Today I wished I too could be a bird, and sail away into the infinite blue. Usually I loved train rides; the speed as the countryside passed by, the way you couldn't even feel you were moving, like the train really was a falcon. But today even the fastest train in the world couldn't go fast enough.

Today my tattered suitcase felt like it weighed a million pounds.

I flicked up the side latches of the suitcase.

I closed them again.

Up, down, up, down, until I noticed a child with a lollipop in his mouth staring at me from across the aisle. I flicked them down a final time, and then rose and walked to the cabin door, the suitcase clutched firmly in one hand. It was the only luggage I carried. I pressed my palm into the scanner, so that a soft glow lit my handprint. The door slid open soundlessly. Unlike the metal trains of the past, The Silver Falcon's door was made of composite material that made it slick, quiet, and efficient.

I stepped out of the brightly lit cabin into a cabin that was dark and cool, lit a serene, calming blue. The door slid shut behind me, and it felt like I'd sunk beneath the waves into an underwater world. The walls held tanks of water filled with tropical fish, flitting this way and that in bursts of color. Even the ceiling held water, and I glanced up to watch the undulating bodies of stingrays drifting by, the light leaking through the rippling water. I took a seat at one of the booths, trying to breathe deeply and meditate, but failing completely. Even here, time was ticking by. It was all I could do to sit still, and stop glancing at my watch.

"First time ridin'?" The man in the booth across from me asked. He was American, judging by the accent.

"No, actually. Just in a bit of hurry today."

"Well don't worry. I've rode these trains back and forth, and up and down, and I hardly ever see 'em be late."

I tried to smile at him, and realized my foot was bouncing up and down. I held it still, and then followed the trajectory of a clown fish in the tank. The door slid open behind me, and a tour flooded into the cabin. I took the opportunity to sink further back into my booth and hide behind the crowd of people.

"The Silver Falcon was named after a bird of prey for it's slick form and superb speed," the tour guide said in a high, nasally voice, "but sometimes we also call it The Chameleon for it's ability to adapt to it's environment. When we come into a city, for instance, the train utilizes a sort of cruise control system. Does anyone know what that's called?"

"Trip optimization," I said under my breath. A little girl with pigtails gave me an odd look.

"We call it trip optimization, a technology powered by GE's software, that can calculate the optimized fuel and speed based on the environment. In addition, our trains utilize clean, emission free propulsion from fuel cells for the last several miles, so as not to further add to any pollution in the area."

The tour guide began to walk backwards out of the room, her high voice carrying too well as she discussed how the digital transformation of rail technology in the early 2000's had made GE's high-efficiency trains the leader in transportation in India and across the world.

I checked my watch.

Then I looked back up at the digital board that displayed the arrival times for trains, like the screens at airports. On Time. All of them.

I checked my watch again regardless.

The clown fish swam in another circle.

I suddenly had to stifle a burst of laughter. The American across the way gave me a concerned look, as if worried I were about to choke and die. Really I had finally realized the irony of it all. I was riding the fastest train in the world, but today, it wasn't fast enough.

I couldn't decide if I wanted to cry or laugh, maybe both. I decided I needed to hold it together, for a few more hours... until I got there and found...

I stared down at the suitcase in my lap. It's lines and curves were as familiar as the contours of my own fingers. But today I couldn't stand its weight, in the same way I couldn't let it go.

Finally, I couldn't take the lazily swimming fish anymore. Couldn't they swim faster, maybe do something exciting or entertaining? I stood and paced into the next room, this one again a normal passenger cab lit with the light of day. I realized too late I hadn't waited long enough and I'd stumbled onto the tour group again.

The group gathered around a model of one of the motors. There were oohs and ahhs as children pressed their dirty hands up against the glass, and even I couldn't completely bury a small flash of pride. Yes, the liquid-cooled, light-weight motors were incredible, almost like something from a science fiction world. Yet the superconducting motors were real, and almost 100% efficient. Most days I could talk for hours about the engines that had helped unite the world.

But today was different.

Today the light that leaked down from the sky-light taunted me.

Today the suitcase I held felt like it had its own heartbeat, its own magnetic pull.

I left the tour group and stood between one of the wide windows. The city grew around me, so much bigger, so much more alive than the last time I had seen it. Strange, how the trains had become like a river flowing through the desert, turning cracked earth into the overflowing oasis before me.

I checked my watch again, and the screens above. On Time. Yet it did nothing to soothe me. I could think only of what waited for me, or didn't wait for me, at the end of the line.

What if I was too late?

Because I wasn't so foolish to believe I would get another chance.

This was the last chance I would ever get.

This was my one shot at redemption.

A commotion came from the end of the cabin, and I turned and watched as the group of tourists and children shrank back with wide eyes. Several men and women with the dark blue silver lined uniforms rushed by, worried looks on their faces.

A ball of worry grew in my stomach.

These trains were the leaders in industry, and yet there was always something new for the engineers to account for.

I looked up at the times.

On Time. On Time. On Time.

Then the red letters flashed across the screen.

Delayed.

No...

Not today. Any other day, but not today.

I turned back to the world outside, to the growing city, trying to bury the rising fear, trying to think instead of everything this train had ever done for me.

Because the trains hadn't just brought new life to the cities. They had brought new life to a small village in rural India, to a small boy who dreamed of building something that would change the world. As the colors streamed by, I was brought back, to a different time, a different place.

A different world...