Conduct

Claman Height awakened. He had no ticket because he was conducting the train. It barreled around the bends with a velocity bordering on the speed of sound. With fear coursing through his veins, he knew that he had to find a way to slow this rocket on rails down to a proper speed. He summoned the attendants. No response. His fellow conductor was not in the control room with him. Panic colored his black skin.

Before a rush to the adjoining car, he noticed that the train was being guided by an automatic conductor. Height saw the name of the train. He called the station.

“This is The Francisco leaving from Wilmington, Delaware. Where is your visual?”

A blank screen seemed to mock the conductor. The radio became the next transmitter of his dismal situation. Crackling and then silence blasted from the receiver into Height’s ear.

He opened the door and saw men and women dressed smartly in suits and dresses. Some still had name tags and handled stiff drinks. Each of them showed a tiny handkerchief that designated them all as train conductors fresh from a convention in Wilmington. Height addressed the entire train.

“I am not a conductor. I don’t even have a ticket. It appears that you all are professionals, though. This train will run off the rails if we don’t stop it. I don’t know why I’m here or why I woke up in the control room of a speeding train, but I implore you to do something about it. One of you! Any of you!”

As part of a diversity project, conductors of various races sat at the front of the car. Another black man, Kingsman Dottington, stood up. A white man stood up by the name of Calvin Biles. A brown man named Miguel Soto stood up and fastened his jacket. A yellow woman named Karen Chan and two red men, Stone Betters and Naveen Vaid, raised from their seats.

“I don’t know if this is some kind of joke, but I haven’t laughed since I woke up ten minutes ago!” Height shouted.

As the highest ranking conductor with the most experience, Dottington led the way into the control room. Biles, Soto, Karen, Betters and Vaid all followed. Height found his way to a seat and wiped his face with a discarded handkerchief.

Once all of the conductors gathered in the semi-spacious room, they darted their eyes. Dottington gave out commands.

“Calvin and Karen, you both are adept at the computer system. Get it back online and in working order. Vaid and Miguel, see if we can re-establish comms with the command center. Let’s go!”

“I don’t think that will work,” Vaid admitted.

“What’s that?” Dottington asked, he looked at the landscape dissolve into shapes and forms beyond recognition because of the speed.

“I don’t know. It just seems like they’re too many cooks here,” Vaid continued.

“Yeah, Kings’, we’re trying to get this thing to slow down. All we need is one person in here,” Soto added.

“I think if we can’t agree on this whole thing, we should take a vote,” Chan said.

“Yes!”

“Democracy! That is the answer!” Biles exclaimed with almost too much enthusiasm.

Dottington sighed. “You do know America is a constitutional republic, not a democracy, right? So much for the exuberance. Alright. We’ll vote on it. It’s proper in these circumstances.” He gritted his teeth. “Who wants to keep the amount of people in this room to six? Working together, displaying our expertise in conducting a train?” he proposed.

The other five engineers raised their hands.

“Okay. That settles it.” Just then, the door opened and the men and woman stood and stared at Height standing in the entryway.

“I’ve been reading one of your manuals. I don’t have a clue how I got here but I absorbed a bit of knowledge while you all were in this room,” Height explained.

The conductors felt a gnawing urge to laugh but the gravity of the situation disrupted any chances for a giggle or guffaw.

“We appreciate your enthusiasm Mr….” Soto ventured.

“Height. But you can call me Claman.”

“Okay, Claman. What is adhesive weight?” Soto asked.

“The weight on the driving wheels of the train? Should I answer another or are we all going to just sit here and await our quickly approaching deaths?” Claman asked confidently.

“Be our guest,” Karen said.

The five other conductors returned to the car with the other engineers who muttered amongst themselves as to what was going on in the control room. The other conductors hurled boos and hisses at the conductors as they re-entered the car.

“What the Hell? You’re all going to just let that amateur be the one to save a bunch of knowledge men and women who actually have experience with trains?!” Hudson Noah shouted.

“He apparently has more knowledge than we have given him credit for,” Dottington surmised.

“If we give ourselves the chance to let him conduct this train, we still can rely on our own strength to keep us on track…literally,” Naveen said.

Another chance for a nervous laugh flew by almost as fast as the runaway train. Once Height reached the controls, he distinguished between the various touch screens and other pieces of display. He moved like a surgeon; every move remained precise and managed to produce an even greater effect than his previous efforts. He got the comme working. A face illuminated on the screen just under the windowshield.

“This is the Francisco. We’ve been—”

“We received information on that train. We are working on a way to slow down and eventually stop the train at the next station.”

“Okay, then.”

“Who are you, may I ask?” Command center manager Gregory Gains wondered.

“I’m Claman Height. I woke up at the controls of this fast mover and I guess it was someone’s sick joke to have a layman conduct the train full of conductors.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Look, you stay on this line and don’t break the transmission. We’re going to give you instructions. You understand?”

“Yes.”

Just then, the comms went out and Height had to rely on his ability to size up this monster and slay it. He took control of the braking system and yanked it back. The train still bulleted down the line. Unshaken, with a boost of confidence, he began to detach panels and one-by-one deselect anything that looked like it would have something to do with the engine continuing to propel. He picked the right wires and the train began to slow. Height emerged from the engine room to stunned silence. The conductors all looked at him as if he had either surgically removed a leg to save a life or hacked off such a limb with an axe.

“I can report to you that we have successfully reached our destination….in the middle of nowhere.”

“We can still ping on the screens back at the control center. They’ll be able to determine our exact location,” Betters replied.

“So, how does it feel conducting?” Dottington asked.

“Like a true champ,” Height responded.