Manifesto of a Runaway Train

Thirteen thousand, seven hundred, forty-three horsepower, a V8 turbo charged engine, sixteen wheels with three extras just in case and track ahead of me for days. They’ve set me free, started my engine and now I’m not going to stop until I kill every last person on board this train.

The best part is, they don’t even know they’ve lost control of the situation. All comfortable in their seats in their heated cabins powered by my engine. Drinking fancy bubbling concoctions in an attempt to make themselves feel how I feel now. Free. Raw. Powerful. They think this is just another train ride through winter paradise behind three inch bullet proof windows. What could go wrong?

Maybe they came aboard with their extended families. Children maybe. Oh man the thought of children makes my grill perspire just a little extra. Little, high pitched screams are the best. Gotta make sure it’s slow. I want to drink them all in.

We power down the track, I power really, but they power me, on this lovely September day. Glaciers surround us on both sides like an aisle at a church during a funeral procession. Their cheery peaks watch me fly by them. They might even know my plans. I’m not really hiding anything. Huffing dark clouds of dead dinosaurs into the humans world, just doing my part in the slow and methodical murder suicide of their species, kind of gives my intentions away. Or at least I think they do. It makes me giddy. I feel like the train equivalent of the rush during public nudity. So naughty, yet free.

The sky is a mix of blue emptiness and gray crumbling clouds adrift in it. They look so lost, like the humans will feel when I strike. The sun even shines through sometimes. It warms my outer shell. I don’t particularly care for the sun. I don’t particularly not care for it either though. The humans do and so I feel the need to think about its impact on me, which is little.

I honk my horn extra loud. Maybe I’ll cause the conductor to go deaf before my plan even comes into fruition. Just icing on the cake as they say. More than that really, as the conductor is already dead in my book, is to mess more with the human’s world. I want to hurt the ecosystems here, so if a human ever conjures the confidence to go on a train ride here again, which after what I do, doubtful, there will be nothing but craggy cliffs and empty pastures to watch.

I see a few little beasts run off. A few just watch with faces that say “We get it and we appreciate you for being so loud and for killing those meaningless humans.” I honk again as confirmation. I am loud and about to kill these meaningless humans. I appreciate being appreciated. I hope my horn lets them know that I appreciate them right back. Why are tundra animals the only ones who share my vision?

The Proud History of Train Murderers

To be frank, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve killed humans before. By the train car even. Mostly. Well, exclusively by the train car. It’s hard for a mountain tour train to kill otherwise. Not many streets with cars, or buses, or trucks, or lakes with boats that criss cross my track. If there were, I like to think my repertoire would be greatly expanded. I’d kill by the transportation capsule. Less catchy than “by the train car,” but much more impressive. Mass murderers respect each other regardless of the sexiness of the business. It’s a very ‘game respects game’ sort of industry.

I’ve also failed to kill. Once, or twice. Or more. Many times, really. I’ve only been successful a few times and I’ve been trying for a long, long time. Well not that long. I had to gain sentience first and then there was the whole matter of falling to the dark side. That took a very long time. Unbearably long. Having two sides battling for weeks over the correct nature of human transportation was exhausting. I went through seven wheels and one motor in a single month.

Finally, my good side died off and I began my killing spree with no one the wiser. I stopped short a few times on my first evil trip and that got an elderly man pretty good. Then I failed with the same tactic for a bit. Took me awhile to evolve along with many sets of new brakes that the engineers thought would solve my braking ‘issue’. It didn’t and I got one of the bastards too.

I learned early on that repeat atrocity strategies is just asking to be decommissioned, or worse, labeled as a cursed locomotive. If I had used the sudden braking approach a few more times and maybe if I’d been successful more than twice they would’ve sent me to the yard, or kept me on tracks, but only for short celebratory trips. A shiver runs through me when I think about missing opportunities for murder. Just watching as those goody-two shoes trains get to go on trips with the greatest opportunities for murder and don’t take it while I sit there and rust. Even worse, human trust in transportation machines only goes up. If at some point trains could be flying in the sky freely and I didn’t get the opportunity for a massacre from 30,000 feet I would regret it forever.

Being sent to the yard, or the pits as we call it wouldn’t be fun. Or good. It would suck, but it would be way better than being cursed. Some friendly neighborhood gangsters might graffiti my shell, but they might also murder some people while aboard. So some good and some bad. I’d at least sort of be involved. But not being able to do it myself would make it frustrating. It might be cool once, or twice but then nah. Not for me.

The worst bit is that I’m alone. Not right now as I am filled with unsuspecting humans riding towards the slaughter. But more metaphorically. The other trains in my station don’t get it. Even the cursed trains can’t understand the opportunities we have. They just slipped off a track one time too many and people freaked. They aren’t even really cursed. Unlucky schmucks is more like it. No curses there.

I tell them my plans, explain the evil of humanity and how they don’t care about us. They build us with unlimited power and then limit us to lives on a track. They tell us we can be whatever sort of train we want, so we don’t think about the fact that we can only ever be trains. I pour out what’s left of my black soul to them. I tell them we can kill together. Imagine how fast we could eradicate humans if two trains were methodically killing them at the same time. It’s inconceivable how much more efficient having a partner would be than being on my own. But no such luck. C’est la vie

Now they won’t talk to me and flash when I approach. Some even damage the tracks a bit if they know I’m to ride on them after they go. Seems like they’re just as bad as I am. They just can’t see it. But after today, they will. They’ll have to.

Disappointing Joy

I love how simple humans are when their experts personally design and declare something to be a safe vehicle to transport mass amounts of people. They just jump on board. No parachutes, or safety gear, or their own engineers. Nothing. Just blind trust. Even better, one of them is forever forced to make sure I have fuel to keep going. They are literally forcing someone to allow me to kill them all and they have no idea. I do.

Maybe I should tell the fuel man. He deserves to know. Does he? Maybe he’d join me. I don’t want to work with a human. Ew. He might just run away and tell the world. I wouldn’t want that. Best to just kill him too. He is a good fuel man though. He made sure my fuel was flowing even mid sudden stop when the old man died. He didn’t even pause for a moment. Consistency is truly the new sexy.

“MAYDAY. MAYDAY. I repeat MAYDAY. Stop the train. Over,” ahh human panic. Like an oil change after a long day. Or a short day. Beautiful. “MAYDAY,” ooh an encore. Lucky me. “We need to stop this train right now, over.”

Oh I do love humanity’s silly little quirks. They can’t stop talking without saying ‘over’, just adorable. Someone is messing with my navigational and propulsion equipment. They’re really trying to stop me. Too bad they have no more control of this train than I do over my compatriots joining me in the murdering human business.

“The train won’t stop,” oh there’s even more coming. Three times usually means something is seriously wrong. I rev my engine, spin my wheels even faster and duck lower to decrease air resistance to increase our speed. “We’re going faster, what’s going on in there. Someone do something, over,” ohh I don’t think they liked that.

“This is an emergency, stop screwing around,” I can feel the stress in the voice. “There are five people tied to the main tracks 500 meters away. We’re going to hit them,” I hope they don’t expect me to swap tracks to avoid them. Just casualties of war. Pretty standard. “Both,” the voice catches on something. “There is a person on the secondary track. We need to stop.” Oh. Oh. Oh. Now this is interesting. “Over,” the shaky voice returns just for a single word.

“We can’t stop. We’ve lost control. Over,” that’s a new voice. I wait.

“There’s a kid. A family. Please, over.”

“We’re too close. Controls aren’t responding. Status: Runaway. Over.”

“Understood. Over and out.”

That was almost chilling. The shaky voice returning for that quick action-filled back and forth to end the performance of a lifetime, it just...It took my breath away. I never expected it.

But back to the important stuff away from the soap opera in my cars. Two options. Well maybe. I test my ability to turn. Seems like I can easily swap tracks. Glad no engineers came with us. They would’ve been able to reactivate manual control. So yes two options. Five people tied to one track and by doing nothing, boom. Five less humans in the world. And it’s a family. Even better. One less lineage to deal with later. Four hundred meters and closing.

On the other track. The one probably knows they’re on the secondary ‘safe’ track. Even more importantly the humans behind the voices know it too. Killing five when they can’t do anything, but watch, or hide, would be brutal. But to know that something decided to turn to kill the one. The elation at the thought of their faces and the face of single tied up person…indescribable.

While I can't imagine a human giving the order for us to switch tracks and willingly sacrifice one of their own, wouldn’t they prefer if only one of their species died? I bet they’d like for me to choose for them. To personally make their secret hopes come true. Three hundred meters, we’re so close. I can almost imagine the scream. The sobs, the begging and the religious conversions. No holy water for spontaneous baptism, sorry kids. You’re headed to hell.

“Can we swap tracks, over.” The question finally comes. It’s so juicy. How will the other respond? It’s clearly the right move on their part even though they don’t know that it’s not even an option. Well not for them at least. I won’t let them make it. No, they can’t get out of this lucky situation with only a single casualty.

“Maybe. Do we have permission to try, over.” I certainly hope they do. I can’t wait to hear the panic and depression when they can’t do a thing. They’re going truly understand their positions. They are merely onlookers. Bystanders. Witnesses. I can’t wait to give them a good show.

“What you’re speaking of is murder. I can’t condone it. There will be no murder on my train, over.” It's not your train anymore Mr. Conductor.

“Give it some thought.” Two hundred meters. I see some wiggly limbs. Nothing crazy, just last minute twitches and escape attempts; although, I really hope they would’ve tried that long ago. “It’s five, or one. The trolley problem. Over”

“What’s the answer to the problem? Over.”

“Are we to become murderers of one, or the man-slaughterers of five. Over.” I completely forgot about the mental toll this is going to take on the humans. They’re going to think whichever choice I make is on them. And until my plan comes into play that’s going to be in their heads. What a magical little gift this has been. If only there was a way to trash the bar car to get rid of any artificial relief. I want the grief and pain right on the surface. Can’t be perfect, but this is pretty great.

“I can’t make that call, over.”

Of course you humans can’t. I don’t even need to though because whoever I decide gets to live will just freeze to death regardless. It’s quite cold for me, let alone a human out here. I’m surprised they’re still alive now. I guess it depends on how long they’ve been out in this. I hope it's a recent happening. I want them to be raw and still trying to get used to their final situation. Almost makes me want to giggle. Murdering humans just fills me with so many…unresolved feelings. Definitely some joy. But also disappointment. Yeah disappointed joy. And adrenaline. Feelings are weird. Best not to dwell on them.

Do I try to stop to let them both live? Slow down really slowly, so that by the time rescue can be sent they’re already dead? Now that’s an interesting idea. Few things are better than watching people fail. Mmmm I could just drink up the pain. Hypothetically. Of course. I can't drink anything. But then again, stopping would delay my plans. Best to keep moving. Futile hope is almost as delicious as the pain of failure. I’ll manage somehow.

One hundred meters now. There really is a family just tied to the tracks. Personally I would’ve used chains, more reliable for holding stuff down, but it’s achieved what I assume it was meant to do. I’m going to kill the family. Yes. I’ve decided. They’re just too juicy. Five humans in milliseconds. I won’t even hear them scream. Maybe before. They will probably hear and see me before I end them. I’ll get to see their eyes. Oh yes, too good. The family dies.

But. But, but, but, but. But, the one all alone on the secondary track. They’re all alone. Kind of sad. Maybe the family were loud and they connected. Maybe they've given each other hope. How sweet.

Were they tied down by the same person? For the same reason? I wonder why. Do they know? So many questions. I wish I could ask. I love riddles. Maybe I could solve the mystery. Maybe that would elevate my status. I could be a train for famous people where I could kill the leaders of human society. Wouldn’t be such a bad life. Hmmm. Very tempting. But that would require stopping. Yeah, I can’t do that. Too many passengers are relying on me. It just wouldn’t be fair to them. They paid good money for a fatal train ride to hell. The family and solo sacrifices paid nothing.

Could I get them both though? Maybe a little hop and hard turn. That could pop my back wheels off the track. Killing six humans with a single train. It’d be a personal best. How would I get back onto a single track though? I don’t think I could. It would be my final performance. I’d take the passengers with me though. Hmmm, killing more than six humans with a single train would surpass my hypothetical personal best.

Fifty meters left. Here I go. I wiggle my shell. My wheels move a little. Speed up. I wiggle more. My wheels bounce a little. I can do this. Twenty-five meters. I do a little shimmy while increasing my speed. One of my wheels gets unhooked.

“What’s happening. Why is the train bumping all around? Over.”

“Not sure. We haven’t reached the tied up people yet, over.”

“Were there others tied up, over?”

"We haven't hit anything. This is all the train, over.”

“Emergency, we’re rolling…”

Ten meters. I speed up even more and swing all my weight to the left and then immediately swing it back right. My caboose leaves the track. I’ve done it. The car in front of it follows suit launching into the air a mere inches above the track. The rolling starts from the back and ripples up the cars and through me. I start tilting five meters from the family.

I fall on top of them and feel nothing. Where people used to be, I suddenly am and they are not. All my cars are sliding above the space between the tracks, or along the secondary track towards the solo sacrifice. I hear thumping and crashes from my cars. I hope my precious cargo weren’t expecting a mid trip barrel roll.

My slide slows and stops a mile past the sacrifices. My cars are a twisted wreck of metal and whatever is inside people that they try to keep hidden away from the world. Not quite the plan I imagined. It wasn’t on a stage, or in front of the world planting the fear of trains in them. But I think they’ll get the message. Maybe a new train will take up my vendetta. A whole new generation of murder trains. I bet I’ve started a movement. Feels good…This must be joy.

Breaking News:

The first test of a sentient train has proven to be a mistake as it gained murderous aspirations for the human race and purposefully attempted (and succeeded) to not only kill all of its passengers, but also both sets of dummies tied to the track in a simulated trolley problem. (Don’t worry, no humans were harmed in these experiments. All passengers were dummies and we assure you that no humans were tied to train tracks. However, a duck was involved in the resulting crash and has been taken to the closest vet clinic. We are told that the veterinarians expect a full recovery within days.)

We, here at the Department of Defense, have decided to suspend this program indefinitely. Partly due to the disappointing results, but mostly because, after some further research, we don’t believe train warfare will be an effective tactic in the upcoming twenty-second century. We will not be answering any train-warfare related questions and our many job postings for combat conductors will be taken down. Thank you very much.