The Trinity

Part One.

Trains. I hate them. The click-clack of everything just makes me feel sick. That stale smell that everyone has to live with, that one individual in the corner who looks up from their paper every two seconds, glaring at everyone. The antisocialism of it all, everyone's buried in a book or texting on their phones. Don't even get me started on the noise... especially if there's a baby screaming in a stroller and the mother does nothing to stop them. That chewing sound, too faint to make a difference, but still noticeable. Ugh, trains. Can't stand them.

Getting on to one from Luton station is probably the worst bit. Luton's always been a rough area, no matter where you are. However, it's the closest station around, so I didn't really have a choice. I could have driven, I suppose, but that would have been a lot more effort. Plus the rain makes the roads slippery. Oh yeah, the rain. Forgot about that. I am just sitting there, slumping in my squeaky seat, just staring at the droplets trickle down the window in diagonal movements. About 45 degrees or so to the right. That'd be the speed of the train, of course. I listen closely as I hear the pitter patter of it just gently hitting the glass, almost like typing on a keyboard. Always there, but never loud.

The whole experience is just a nightmare. I could hear a couple just giggling away at each other, laughing at the poorest of jokes, and then almost clinging on to each other, without any concern about the people next to them, like that poor guy sitting opposite them, trying to read his book. I frown, sigh a little then look back at the window. The droplets were still there. No sign of a change whatsoever. It's almost as if they're having a race, which one can get to the bottom of the window first.

I continue to hear the couple just getting louder and louder, no consideration at all. I try and block them out but it's no use. Theres something about that laugh, almost sounds familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

I don't know how to react, if I should say something, or do something; it didn't matter anyway, I could see them gathering up their items and were about to leave the train, when something on the wall catches their eye. The male signals the female to come and look at it, which brings my attention as well. It is simply a little print on the wall of the train, advertising some sort of device called a Trinity. I have no clue what it does or how it had got on the wall, but it resembles nothing like anything I've seen before. It's a small box, about the size of something you'd put in your palm, with a deformed oval with a hole in the middle. Sticking out the bottom is a little light, and a few buttons were placed right on the centre of it. A bit further up from the device appears to be a little screen, coming out of what looks like a crocodile clip used in circuitry, with a wire from that going into the screen. I don't say anything about it, I just try to read it. The couple eventually lose interest and finally get off the train. I go over to it and have a closer inspection.

The advert said that despite having radiology implemented into the Trinity, it gives the user an ability to recall a memory such as a dream in full detail, or something that they'd forgotten about, but remembered forgetting, which would then display itself onto the screen. Simply at the push of a button, they can relive something again and again. Thinking about the device, I pace back over to my own seat. Just as I'm about to gather my thoughts, a loudspeaker interrupts me. "The next station is St Pancras station. This train terminates at Brighton." With that I sit back down, watching the rain fall down the window again.

After a good half an hour, I feel the train finally stopping at the right station. Fatigue already kicking in, I gather my few belongings, leaving the train as quickly as I can. I step over the gap onto the platform, watching the other commuters step off too, just like I had. After a while, the doors close, and the train departs once again.

Then the device comes into my head again. I don't want to think about it much, I had to concentrate on getting out of the station. Busy as always. Never any change in London, it's similar to the trains, actually. Pollution, the lack of socialism amongst people, the loud noises, the annoyance.. I just don't know how people deal with it in the end. I refocus myself, heading over to a the ticket machines. A large clock hung above too, reading quarter to one in the afternoon. I don't really know if I'm hungry, I want to get my main task done first. Once the machine 'eats' my ticket, I walk through, the gates instantly closing behind me. I felt a bit like an animal, just being herded from one gate to another. I guess airports are always worse though. Always so cramped and the lines just take too long. Oh yes, the bit of paper in my pocket. I take it out, stepping out of the way of the main flow of people. It reads: