A Godless Eden

I shifted in my bed, grumbling a handful of groggy obscenities at the ruckus upstairs. It sounded like a plane was having a drunken affair with a steam engine, all roaring wind and bucking thuds. The damn tenants upstairs didn’t seem to understand how thin the floors were. If I so much as took a step out of bed, the grumpy prick below me would know. I knew this, of course, because every time I so much as tiptoed on a creaky board the bastard would scream like I'd just killed his cat.

My apartment is many things, but quality is not one of them. That is, unless you measure quality by ricketiness and mold spore levels. I can’t so much as stand for a piss without worrying about the floorboards beneath me. And yes, of all the materials in the known universe an architect could put in a bathroom, they choose wood. If I misaim during a midnight leak, the ceiling of the poor bastard below will bleed yellow.

I grunted, turning over onto my side. On top of all the ruckus, it seemed like my bed had gone from soft-ish to utterly rigid. It was like I was sleeping in a sheet metal box, my pillow completely absent from its home beneath my head. I forced my eyes open, glancing around. Even with a violent hangover, I figured out quickly that this was not my bed.

Oh for fuck’s sake. Again?

I sighed, testing the restraints of the metal box. The walls remained firm, though the roof gave way slightly. It seemed halfheartedly weighed down, though it would open with enough elbow grease. As I pushed a bit harder, the weight atop my box yelped.

“What the hell??” A woman shouted faintly, voice nearly lost in the roar of… an engine. Some sort of engine. What kind of engine sputtered like that? I racked my mind, rubbing my stubbled chin. My brain felt like it was full of sand and molasses, the real think-tank held hostage somewhere deep in my thick skull.

A train. I was on a train. Grunting, I pushed my way out of my metal confines and up into a faintly lit train car. A woman stood in the corner, hand over mouth.

“Sorry. Sorry.” I muttered, stepping out and stretching my back out. As one could imagine, sleeping in a sheet metal box didn’t do wonders for aging joints.

“An apology doesn’t cut it, creep. The hell are you doing in my luggage compartment?” Her arm abruptly hardened into flaky granite, digits condensing into a single sharpened point. I nodded towards the arm, giving it a ‘please don’t cut my balls off’ sort of look.

“Wish I knew. I just woke up in there.” I put honestly. She wasn't buying the truth I was selling, which I sure as sin couldn't blame her for.

“Bullshit. You’re here to-”

“Listen, lady.” I interrupted. “Ever since the event horizon, I wake up in a random place every few nights. This is routine for me, really.” The woman scowled, looking me up and down like she was looking for something important. Seeing that I was in nothing but a pair of old trousers, I wasn’t exactly radiating importance.

I’d stopped sleeping in the nude when I’d first woken up in the middle of a church service. Four days after the event horizon, at the absolute heyday for churches worldwide. It was everyone’s most confusing nightmare made into a cruel reality. Cheeks and balls on a cold hardwood pew, waking up to hundreds of old people screaming at me like I was Satan’s errand boy.

The police hadn’t really known what to do with me. They knew that I'd just up and appeared in there, but they also didn’t appreciate me flinging around my wedding tackle during a heated session of hymns. Three nights in a holding cell and a fifteen hundred dollar fine later, I was released back into the public. I’d slept with clothes on after that.

“Fine, then. Put a damn shirt on and then we’ll talk.” She muttered, hitting me with another house-special scowl. That kind of look could make an entire orphanage of unruly children form ranks and stand at attention. To me, though, it was just another scowl. I collected the things, whether I liked it or not.

“Sure. Let me just grab a shirt from my pocket. Want me to grab you a bottle of wine and a burlap bag of cash while I'm in there?” I dug around in my right pocket for dramatic effect.

She rolled her eyes. Even when chock-full of confusion and hatred, the lady’s eyes were remarkably pretty. They were stone gray, bespeckled with tiny motes of color. Everyone’s eyes fit their head pretty well, but her face seemed framed solely to direct your gaze straight into their depths.

The rest of her face was a textbook sort of pretty, with a sharp nose and plump lips that curved downward in a bowed frown. But those eyes stood out. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of colors would dance around in her gaze under the sunlight.

“I don’t care where you get one! I refuse to converse with a shirtless ruffian that materialized in my goddamned luggage compartment!” Her arm sharpened into a mace-like club. I raised both hands in innocence, slowly shuffling for the exit to the small cabin.

“I’ll be out of your hair. Sorry for the inconvenience.” There wasn’t much reason to return to the woman. Likely the steam-powered beast was full of other passengers, many of which would be a little more sympathetic for my cause. Dragging a hand down the length of my face, I began my way down the dimly lit hallway. Cabins surrounded me on either side, the oak walkway between them narrow enough to house two people shoulder to shoulder.

Few of the cabins still had lights on inside. I ignored the lot of them, knowing damn well that I'd be met with another rich yuppie if I knocked. Regular folk didn’t have the scratch to be renting out cabins on train rides. The only real sympathizers would be the fine lads and lassies riding in the passenger car, all jammed close together like a claustrophilic sardine orgy. They’d still be confused by me, but they’d dealt with enough bullshit to not care about a shirtless gruff asking for directions.

On the far end of the cabin car, a finely dressed butler entered with a tray of bubbling alcohol. He immediately halted in place, looking me up and down with a scowl.

“Can I help you, sir?” He shouted over the roar of the tracks.

“Yes, in fact, you can.” I pumped my voice full of aristocratic snobbery, straightening my spine and clasping my arms behind my back.

“My luggage, you see, is gone. Just up and vanished in the dead of night. All I've been left with is my sodding pajamas, and I'm in desperate need of a drink.”

“Heavens, sir. That is quite the problem. I’ll fetch an errand boy and begin the search for the luggage immediately. Do you think it may have been stolen…?” He asked, voice heavy with faux concern. There was a hint of annoyance hidden deep in his tone, one that only an equally as annoyed fellow could spot.

“No need. There was nothing of import inside, just a few novellas and a cheap suit.” I tisked softly, running a hand through my hair.

“Strange days, don’t you think? Some things vanish, others just appear in your lap. The last few months have been most unusual.” I shook my head, doing my best to not be embarrassed by my partial nudity.

The butler let out a stifled sigh of relief. I’d just diffused the situation entirely, earning the man’s trust by ensuring he didn’t have to do any extra work.

“Indeed they have, sir.” He shook his head, dropping the fake butler-y voice and letting his actual self slip through.

“One day everything is normal, and the next we’re all…” He cut himself off, straightening his posture and resuming the butler voice.

“Freaks.” I finished. He grimaced, but nodded.

“Freaks indeed.” He proffered the tray, and I graciously took two of the small champagne glasses.

“If I might ask, what did the event horizon do to you?” I asked politely. The butler’s brow furrowed. Shit! Rich people thought discussing their abilities was sacrosanct. It was about as rude as showing up to a wedding uninvited and asking the bride her cup size. While this butler was likely closer to my financial status than the sods in the cabins all around us, he likely still followed some of their customs.

“Is that a question I must answer?” He asked, face full of… sorrow.

“No, no. My apologies. My grogginess has made my tongue far too loose.” I nodded apologetically, quickly making off towards the next car with two cups of champagne. It was dainty booze, but it was enough to wrestle the hangover into submission. Downing them both at once, I made my way to the gangway door. As I opened it, the scenery around the train punched me in the gut, squeezing the drink out of my mouth and sending it cascading to the floor.

The train was hurtling through a colorful abyss, surrounded on all sides by stars and nebulous blooms of errant color. Champagne dribbled out of my mouth as I watched the cosmos whizz by, stars stretching out to sharp lines with the sheer speed of the voyage. Daring a look down, I found the train to be suspended over an infinitely deep void, held up only by a set of phantom red train tracks. My fear of heights was as confused as I was. What way was up? What way was down? It seemed no matter what way you fell, you’d be suspended in that infinite deepness until it claimed you.

I cursed enough to make the pope piss his pants. This wasn’t a steam-powered passenger train, this was a cosmic caravan. There were no common passenger cars on these damned things, no regular folk for a million miles. Here were folks with so much money that they rode in pretty inconveniences, machines fueled by nothing but magic and manpower. It was nothing more than a way of showing off.

“God damn it!” I screamed, throwing my empty glasses aside into the infinite void of space. Just like materializing nude in that church, I would be fined heavily for not paying a toll on this damn train. They didn’t care whether or not it was unfair, and neither did the ‘justice system’. If these saps found out I was hitching a free ride to the other side of Rythe, I would be in debt for the rest of my life.

The event horizon had been nothing but a pain in my ass for the last seven months. I’d been fined, arrested, and endangered by powers I couldn’t even control. What’s worse, I was the only real freak among the lot of Rythe’s population. Everyone had gotten one strange ability on that day, but for some ungodly reason, I'd gotten two. One I couldn’t control, and one that was too unruly to risk ever using again.

I sighed, wishing champagne was less bougie and more boozy. There would be deluxe cabins in nearly every car, save for the conductors chamber and a few miscellaneous amenities. I needed a damn shirt. And fast, before anyone else caught on to me. Turning on my bare heel, I made my way back to the woman with a stone-cold stare.

____________________________________________________

Two threats and a handful of insults later, the woman reluctantly gave me a silk sleeping gown. It was comfortable, but was tight enough to make me feel like the sole occupant of a condom. Not to mention, of course, that it was more or less a dress. She’d given it to me as a sort of insult, but I was appreciative nonetheless. It was easy enough to roll the long part up to my waist, tucking it beneath my trousers. The effect was less than fashionable, but also less crude than being shirtless.

“Thank you.” I said honestly, observing myself in the mirror. Halfway between homeless and dead, I looked about as shitty as I felt. Eye bags as purple as the cosmos around us lined my eyes, surrounded by wrinkles that all curved toward them. The woman's face led to her eyes in a kind, pretty way. My face seemed to lead to my eyes like a thousand tiny hands pointing and laughing.

“Don’t mention it.” She paused for a moment, arms crossed.

“I mean that seriously. I never want anyone to know of this interaction. Keep the garment and burn it when you’re done with it.”

“So serious.” I muttered. In the corner of the mirror I could see the woman scowl, letting her arm condense into a sickle.

“Does that hurt to do?” I asked earnestly. Being shirtless had been a fine introduction to my propriety deficiency, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to inquire about the woman’s abilities. The damn things were as fascinating as they were inconvenient.

“No. It doesn’t.” She looked away. I waited for some sort of explanation or divulgence, but none came.

“One more question and I'll be out of your hair.” I said, turning from the mirror to face her.

“Where the hell is this train going?”

“To Praukan. It’s on a delayed pace to give the passengers time to relax.”

“Time to… relax?” I cocked my head. The concept seemed utterly abhorrent to me. A regular train would take days to arrive, but a cosmic caravan could run the route in less than thirty minutes. It seemed a waste of resources to run extra laps around the void.

“Yes, ruffian. Time to relax. Time that you are severely cutting into.” She rubbed her temples tiredly. The words had a real bite to them. Something clicked in my thick skull, and I finally realized why the woman was so damn grumpy. Rich folk were always busy with miserly duties like killing orphans and squeezing the pockets of the poor. Of course they would be strapped for some alone time with a book and a stiff drink.

“Oh. Ohhhh.” I said, rubbing my stubble.

“Is there any way off of this thing mid-journey?” I blubbered, trying to get through my tome of questions before the woman turned me into a bucket of red paint.

“Not unless you’re keen on turning into a fleshy paperweight. It’s the void, ruffian. This train and the bubble around it are the only things keeping us alive.” She narrowed her eyes. I could read the annoyance in them, seeing that I’d said it was my last question two questions ago.

“Shit. Alright, thanks for your help.” I turned to go, ambling over to the door.

“How do you put up with your ability?” I stopped in place, weighing the words in my mind. It was either a conceited insult or a genuine question, though her expression didn’t quite give away which.

“It’s a pain in my ass, but I don’t get the right to complain. Not when so many people have it worse.” I shrugged. It was a boring answer, but it was the truth.

“Have you ever tried to teleport while awake?” She asked.

Damn. Compared to the woman who’d been scowling at me for the past ten minutes, she seemed to be a hell of a lot chattier. Maybe it had something to do with only half of me being in the room.

“Many times. Doesn’t work. I’d give both balls and my bottom dollar to have a controllable ability like your own.” It was the truth, if only a few quarters of it. Two abilities, one I couldn’t control and one that got out of control far too quickly. Neither was particularly convenient.

She nodded, looking at her hand and slowly letting it lapse into stone. At first I thought it was a cheap gloat, but after seeing the look in her eyes I could tell it was something far more contemplative. She stared at the hand with what seemed like a newfound appreciation, letting it bleed back to skin.

“To be honest, I-” A terraneous bang thundered through the train, the entire machine rocking like it’d just been struck by a boulder. Both of us were sent clattering to the floor, as well as a number of luggage items and glassware. The tracks screeched like a cacophony of horny bats beneath the cabin, the entire train lurching like it’d fall over. After a few seconds, the train thumped back onto the tracks with a grinding howl. Lights in every cabin popped on, and fearful heads poked their way out of their sliding doors.

Cool. I'd teleported onto the first faulty cosmic caravan ever recorded.

“Is that… Part of the relaxation routine?” I mumbled, stumbling to my knees and offering the woman a hand. She ignored it, rising on her own and making her way towards the open door.

“No. It most certainly is not.”

I grunted, nodding and making my way into the now crowded hallway. The tones of the passengers were a marbled mix of worry and annoyance. Worried, because the entire train had just rocked like it was a toy, and annoyed because their precious relaxation time had been interrupted by danger. I made my way through the crowd, slithering my way between sharply tailored suits and sleek travel dresses.

“Attention all passengers. Please return to your cabins and fasten your seatbelts.” The voice echoed over the entire train, the words as vague as they were concerning. The recording played a series of times, tone sterile and unreadable. This only furthered the crowd’s worry, voices growing demanding and furious. There wasn’t much else to do in the passenger cabins, so I continued my way through the crowd and on to the connector. Whether I liked it or not, I was now a part of whatever the hell was going on here. Best to find out what happened myself, before the passengers started doing the same.

An ice-cold hand caught my forearm as I reached for the door. I spun around to find old stone-eyes glaring at me.

“I’m going with you.” Her tone instated the fact that it wasn’t a request.

“Fine by me. Let’s get moving before the crowd gets the same idea.” She nodded, pulling her hand away from my forearm. Her hands were unnaturally cold, which I could only attribute to the fact that she was, in some sense, made of stone. Half of me was curious how the hell that worked, but I didn’t have time to think about it.

I ripped the sliding door to the connector open, revealing the stunning beauty of the cosmos. Jogging past the infinite wonder of creation, I tried the door at the other end of the connector. It was soundly locked, though a large window ran across the upper reaches of the door. The cabin car previous must have been the frontmost passenger car, as the car ahead of the connector seemed to be some sort of cargo bay. Boxes lay toppled over one another, various goods scattered in heaps of splinters.

Luckily for me, I was born with two lockpicks connected to my hips. I grunted, taking a few steps back, running forward, and slamming my bare foot into the door. It didn’t so much as budge, but the bones in my foot sure as hell did.

“That was the stupidest thing I've ever seen anyone attempt.” She muttered, pushing me aside and letting her arm turn to granite. A solid slug from the stone arm shattered the window, allowing her to pass her arm through and open the lock from the other side. I nodded appreciatively, opening the door and limping inside.

Crates and their commodity innards dogpiled atop the previously accessible walkway, leaving no easy access through the car. The only option was to climb over the boxes and goods to get to the other side.

“Do you miss life before the event horizon?” My brain seemed to dole out the words on its own volition, curiosity taking the reins and doling out blatantly offensive questions like they were cheap party favors. I stepped up onto the pile, turning to find the woman staring at me with icy eyes. Just as I tried to blubber an apology, she spoke.

“Yes. Dearly.” The words were laced with such depth, such… sorrow.

“... Yeah. Me too.” Was all I could really say. I mean hell, what else was there to say?

“Who did you lose that day, ruffian?” She asked delicately. I liked to strike myself as stoic and unreadable, but I was about as predictable as a boxing match between a bear and a toddler.

“Just about everyone. Parents died from the surge.” The surge had been the most painful thing I'd ever felt, and most of the world agreed. The event horizon had knocked everyone out cold, striking them with such immense pain that the entire world went into a coma. Elderly folks died of shock, the sick died of shock, and the weak died of, no shit, shock. When the survivors awoke, the sky was gray, the sun was an amorphous blob, and everyone had some sort of freakish new ability to their name.

“My best friend died to a serial killer who’d woken up with the ability to shoot fucking lightning from his forehead. I was still comatose by the time they were all gone. I woke up with nothing and nobody, in a new world where nothing made sense.” I paused for a moment. “You?”

I hadn’t meant to dump so much of my past out, but the past was like a pile of bricks on top of an attic trapdoor. Open it, and you don’t get to pick and choose what bits fall out.

“I lost my husband in an accident. Someone had been too eager to test out their new abilities, and had found out their power was to spontaneously implode. The bastard leveled an entire apartment complex, leaving himself and three hundred others dead.” It was a horribly common scenario post-event-horizon. Those who’d awoken that day had felt something tugging at them, a newfound power within begging to be released. Many had uncontrollable abilities like that man’s, ones that left many people dead or injured. I sighed, nodding my head in solidarity.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Likewise.”

Silence. Whether it was contemplative or solemn was beyond me. I let it ride out, letting the sound of splintery footsteps and shuffling cargo occupy our ears. Soon enough, we’d reached the door to the next connector, which was miraculously unlocked.

“If the train so much as bumps while we’re on this thing, we’re both gonna be food for the void. Hold onto the handrail like your life depends on it.” I shouted, the roar of the passing cosmos a formidable rival to out-scream. She gave me a curt nod, and we awkwardly shuffled to the conductor’s car door.

The train let out a metallic bleat, followed by an upward jolt. An explosion of red splinters marked the untimely end of the tracks below, the entire train beginning to float aimlessly in the cosmos. We’d kept our footing, though it was only a matter of time before the floor became the ceiling. I tried the door like my life depended on it, because for once, it actually did.

Locked. I pounded like a madman, screaming as loudly as my pipes could manage. After a few seconds, the door shot open, revealing an abnormally short woman in a conductor’s uniform. She was deathly pale, with too-large eyes and a perpetual frown. Her uniform caked to her skin and every visible pore on her body seemed to be pouring sweat.

“Are you both mad?? Get the hell inside!!” The pale lady barked, arms crunching and bending into two enormous tentacles. One tentacle apiece, we were both snatched off the connector and hurled into the conductor’s car. The pale lady’s tentacles crunched back into human arms, the fingers of which she used to shut the door.

“The hell were you two nimrods doing out there?!” The pale lady screamed, waving her arms around like a disappointed parent.

“You’re in no position to ask questions of us!! The entire train is… is…” She stopped, eyes widening. I followed her gaze to a corner of the sparsely decorated chamber. My eyes went wider than hers.

“Is he… Is he dead?!” I sputtered. A man mistreated by his forties was propped against a wall, jaw slack and eyes staring distantly into nothingness. The strangest part of the ordeal, however, was the fact that his body had a cannonball-sized hole straight through the chest. Where guts should have been, there was only a smoldering mess of purple flames.

“Oh, what gave it away?!” The pale lady screamed.

“Well how did the conductor fucking die?!” She barked back, gesturing towards the massive hole in his chest.

“He overworked himself.” She crossed her arms, scowling to a man in the corner of the room. Seemingly the third conductor, the man’s arms were a mess of IV’s and piston-like cups sunk into his skin. He seemed to be hooked up into the train itself, something I couldn’t possibly imagine to be pleasant.

“Genevere. I… I can’t keep this up much longer…” He whispered, eyes beginning to flutter shut.

“Stay the FUCK awake, Gensen! I didn’t order you to die yet!” She stomped over and promptly slapped the man across the face. That did little to help the poor fellow.

“So… We’re all dead, then?” Stone-eyes asked, expression distant.

“Unless someone on this train has an ability that can replace the conductor’s, yes. We are all dead..” She was blunt. I appreciated that much about her.

“You’ve got a gargoyle and a guy who can teleport only when he’s unconscious. Anything we can do with that?” She asked hopefully. Genevere rubbed her temples disappointedly.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” She grumbled, reaching for the intercom to the entire train.

“Passengers, this is your captain speaking. If any of you have any ability related to energy or lucid teleportation, please report to the front of the train immediately.”

“Energy…?” I asked, eyes widening.

I promised myself I'd never use it again, but… I’d broken plenty of promises before.

“What… What can you do with a supernova…?”

“Oh, you know, harness it and make enough energy to tear a gash in reality its-fucking-self. Save everyone on the train, collect a few medals of honor, et cetera. Why, you got a supernova in your goddamned pocket?”

“I got two abilities in the event horizon. I used the second one only once, and it backfired. Started a huge forest fire and burned the everliving shit out of me.” I floundered, suddenly feeling more awkward than afraid. It was the first time I'd ever admitted it to anyone, and all eyes in the room were accompanied by rightful confusion and doubt.

“Is he touched in the head?” Genevere whispered to stone-eyes.

“No. I believe him.” Stone eyes shot me a ‘why didn’t you share this priceless information earlier??’ sort of glare. I just shot her a shrug.

“If you’re wrong about this, then you just killed a hundred and fifty seven people.” Genevere’s arm exploded into a large tentacle, wrapping soundly around my waist and plopping me right next to the dying man rigged up to the train itself. She hastily popped a few IV’s into my bloodstream, rigging me up just like the man beside me. He seemed to be unconscious, which was far from comforting.

“Alright, hotshot. You’re rigged up to the train itself. I’ve hotwired the energy spires to cause an omnidirectional cosmic anomaly. Once you get us juiced up, I'm going to knock you out and hope your teleportation abilities react to the energy.”

“What?!” I sputtered. It was one of the worst plans I've ever heard. Teleportation didn’t come easily to me, usually occurring hours after I'd fallen asleep.

“Thirty seconds of air.” A hoarse voice whispered from beside me. The man wasn’t unconscious, but was sure as hell dying. No time to worry about the logistics.

Stone eyes nodded curtly, shooting me a half-encouraging smile. The expression looked almost unnatural on her, but I appreciated it more than she could imagine.

Gathering my wits, I dug around inside myself. The power was buried far down, suppressed by months of regret and hate. Nonetheless, the energy jumped at the opportunity to be released. After a few moments, the broken promise surged through my body. My body roared alight with a terrible ache, energy ripping through muscle and bone. My skin began to bubble and sear, and with a lip-splitting howl of agony, the supernova surged out of my chest. Instead of exploding outward like it had all those months ago, the power streamed through the tubes and shot out all around the train.

The cosmos rippled all around, nebulous clouds enveloping the train like a sentient fog. The pain reached a crescendo as energy shot out of my pores, wholly surrounding me in a cocoon of horror and agony. A liquid surged through my bloodstream, the sensation starkly unique in the sea of pain and hate.

My consciousness fluttered, and within a few blessed moments, all faded to black.