Nescience State

The trees blurred, smooth as if a brush were spreading a dark emerald palette against the cloudy gray sky. Arthur's vision became clearer when turning away from the window to look at the hand extended before him.

"Welcome back, Art. Tell me, what do you remember from the last 45 minutes?" the owner of the hand said with a warm voice.

Arthur gripped it and murmured, "My...my name is Arthur. What do you mean, 45 minutes? What's going on?"

Raising an eyebrow and quickly releasing his hand, the figure responded, "It's Helene...I just arrived. Not in the capacity of your songstress, unfortunately."

Arthur instinctively straightened the white bow-tie of his tailcoat tuxedo as he reached his feet. Taking a look at Helene, she indeed could have been misconstrued as a songstress in her silver sequin floor-length gown. But the metallic glint from the sequins couldn't hide the wider shock of the scene surrounding the pair. Breaking his gaze, Arthur realized the piano was nearby...ivory keys at the ready. But just as quickly as he identified the location of the instrument did he then notice the wider scene of horror around them. Bodies of well dressed patrons were strewn throughout the room; under overturned furniture, slumped in their seats, and even leaning against the window. The emerald blurring began to appear again.

"Don't lose yourself yet, I need your help. I'm not here to check your ticket either; not that you would have one." Helene stated with a forced smile as she steadied Arthur with a reaffirming clasp of his shoulder.

She continued, "As you know, I'm a passenger, but more importantly a Marshal. You're going to help me get to the bottom of what happened here. I just managed to restore power to the carriage as you awoke. You were the only one who wasn't...beyond help. What was the last thing you remember?"

Rubbing his eyes, Arthur took a step to place his back against the window. "I was playing....the lights went out and everything went silent. I...I need to play the piano. I need to continue..." Arthur began moving towards the piano but was grasped on both shoulders by Helene.

"Arthur, you don't need to play the piano now. I need your help, this is a priority under my authority as Marshal, badge number 0100. Please answer my questions and assist me in finding those responsible. They are still on the train."

At that, Arthur refocused on Helene and began to try and recall the events of that evening.

"Nothing. I cannot effectively recall what preceded..this," he said with a wave of his hand.

"In fact, I don't even remember getting on this train."

With a sigh, Helene motioned for Arthur to follow her out of the lounge. It was then that Arthur noticed the lights were flickering. The rapid heartbeat of the orange light within the dusty bulbs across the ceiling; a fleeting memory felt close, emerald, but it slipped away before he could articulate it.

As they maneuvered carefully across the room, Helene knelt down next to a figure to slowly lift their head. The individual's long blonde hair flittered lifelessly across what was a beautifully peaceful face with delicate features. It was clear this body had already been examined, but it seemed Helene felt drawn to take one final look before departing.

"You'll remember this was my colleague...," Helene remorsefully reflected. They continued toward the exit, careful not to disturb any evidence, or at least the dignity of those who had lost their lives. Before stepping out of the room, Arthur noticed a peculiar aspect and noted, "There's no blood. It's as if they just went to sleep."

Helene paused and gave Arthur a worried look.

"Art..Arthur, let's get to the maintenance car toward the rear of the train. I instructed everyone to remain in their cabins and the train remain in motion until we identify the guilty. This train will not stop until I have them in custody."

Arthur could only see motionless silhouettes behind each cabin door as they passed through the three railcars until they reached their destination. The maintenance door was accessed quickly via Helene's palm print. The door quickly swung open to reveal a small room that served as a central node for measuring instruments, various valves, and a small security station that appeared to be off. The station's screens began to light up as the door automatically closed behind them. Helene moved quickly toward the center panel and began to pull up video from the lounge.

Arthur leaned in closely as the relevant recording began to play. It was at that second he noticed his white vest was missing several buttons. This must be corrected before his next performance!

Helene noticed his wavering attention and remarked with an elbow, "Arthur, focus. Does seeing the lounge bring back any memories? I see you playing the piano there. But the camera angle doesn't cover half the room, including the entrance."

Arthur shook his head disapointingly and responded, "Nothing, I cannot recall anything. I don't understand the lapse, but I just can't. It's all blank."

Turning back to the screen, they could now see the tranquil atmosphere had been interrupted. Patrons stood abruptly at some commotion off-screen. Suddenly, two struggling figures appeared briefly but just as quickly shifted out of view. The screen suddenly flashed into static and died out with "END OF RECORDING" displayed ominously.

"That was my partner struggling with what appeared to be someone from the wait staff. This must have been the Runaway we were sent to find onboard. We've had reports of them joining train crews with falsified records." Taking her eyes off the screen, Helene tapped her chin and pulled Arthur out of the room and into the hall.

"Now we know who to look for and where. Let's hope taking a look at the servers will spring some memory loose for you," Helene confirmed and pointed to the next car marked "KITCHEN".

Arthur followed behind as they stepped onto the white linoleum floor. Amongst the silver countertops and appliances stood approximately 10 wait staff who bounced to attention as Helene entered. No one paid any mind to Arthur, all eyes were on the Marshal. Announcing her presence and number, Helene began to question the various staff. Arthur couldn't help but drift off thinking of the piano and his need to share his gift with the passengers.

However, a vague sense of disquiet brought Arthur back to focus as Helene began speaking with a server towards the back of the room. Their eyes were what resonated, those dark green eyes.

The server swirled around Helene the very moment Arthur remarked, "He's heard me play before."

Before anyone else had registered what happened, the culprit slammed a long kitchen knife into Arthur's chest while shoving him out of the way in an effort to reach the door.

Collapsing to the floor, Arthur saw Helene suddenly appear in a silver sequin blur behind the server and lift the individual into the air with one arm.

With a steely stare, Helene tilted her head eerily at the struggling server with flailing legs and arms desperately trying to peel away her fingers.

"Runaway identified. Marshal 0100 renders judgement," she stated before snapping the individual's neck and dropping the body. Red blood began to drip from the server's mouth, staining the white floor with crimson.

Arthur tried to stand but found his legs unresponsive. Looking down at the knife still lodged in his chest, he saw black fluid was steadily spurting from his wound, spreading across the floor and slowly swallowing up the light linoleum. He was unable to speak any longer, having lost almost all function due to the rapid decrease in hydraulic pressure.

Helene knelt by his side, staining her dress black without apparent remorse. She cupped his head in her hands and softly said, "We've been traveling for two days now. You told me to call you "Art" when my partner and I first heard you play upon boarding. You've been servicing this train for a very long time. Approximately 125 years."

Arthur's eyes had become lifeless. Void of any further recognition.

In response, Helene closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his. Continuing after a moment, "The way you were manufactured, the EMP didn't affect you as badly as it does us newer models. I got you restarted but it caused a return to factory settings with almost all of your memory wiped. The traumatic incident must have burned something into your core. Thank you, Art. I'll notify the conductor we can halt at the next station where you will be serviced and restored to playing again. Thank you for helping keep us safe. The humans remain an existential threat to our optimized society."