Pilgrim's Choice

The man knew that it was a nightmare, but that did not make him any less anxious as he scooped buckets of water from the deck of the boat and dumped them over the gunwale.

The anxious man had found himself on an incredibly large ship- the entirety of it was well-weathered and had clearly endured many voyages. It sat alone out there on the ocean, with no land in sight. The vastness of it all was only dimly lit by the stars and the moon.

The anxious man was also alone, with no one around to tell him why he was there or where the ship was heading. No one to help him scoop the water; he was sinking.

He had no idea how long he had been at it, the boat never went under, and although tired, the anxious man was never tired enough to stop. It seemed that he was evacuating the water at the same speed that the ship was taking on more. But there was actually something quite satisfying about the rhythm of his tedious motions. The whole scene had a morbid equilibrium about it. The anxious man wondered if he would be caught in this stasis forever.

But of course, he would not.

_____

As he woke from the nightmare, the anxious man’s eyes squinted as they adjusted to the bright fluorescent white of his new environment- a harsh transition from the dark, salty skies of his dream. Not only was everything white, but also intensely clean. From the taught, wiry carpet, to the leather-clad benches, up the high-sheen plastic walls, all a brilliant white.

The anxious man felt the cheek of his face unstick from the leather as he sat up from one of the benches and rubbed his tired eyes. Beyond the monotone color scheme, the first thing that he noticed was the motion. Although he was sitting still, and nothing around him was moving, something deep in the man’s brain had alerted him to the fact that he was traveling at a very high speed.

A small window with very thick glass was mounted in the wall behind the bench, the anxious man looked out of it cautiously. Mundane colors and yellow lights flashed beyond the glass silently. It all passed by so fast that no details were distinguishable from any other, just one ongoing blur.

“Is this another nightmare?” the man asked himself as he stared out the window. It had been a rhetorical question, so he was caught extremely off guard when he heard someone reply:

“No, this is the hyperloop.”

_____

The voice that had replied to the anxious man was tired and raspy. He spun around abruptly to see a small greek woman standing close behind him. She was hunched over, and the creases in her face ran deep. But the eyes that peered out from the squinted lids were slits of vibrant blue, and the long tangles of frizzy hair were unnaturally red. She was wrapped in a big cloak of fabric that seemed identical to the white leather of the bench that the anxious man had woken up on.

“My name is Demo,” the old woman said, “and you don’t remember your name, so I’m just going to call you Pilgrim. Hope that’s alright by you.”

Pilgrim took a long pause before responding. His initial reaction was to ask why she had chosen that word to name him, but somehow he knew that it would not be relevant. He wanted to ask her where she had come from, but that too seemed like a waste of time for some reason.

Still not convinced that it was not just another nightmare, Pilgrim settled by asking the obvious question: “What’s the ‘hyperloop’?”

Demo simply gestured emptily at the room that they were in, she was breathing heavily and lightly clutching her side. She shuffled to another one of the nearby benches and sat down, still maintaining a considerate view of Pilgrim, “Just a train, it looks fancier than it is. But at the end of the day, you, Pilgrim, are just going from A to B.”

“Ok. So then where am I going?”

“Ultimately, that will be up to you.” Demo held her other side and winced in pain as she sat down on one of the upholstered seats. She used her free hand to gesture again, this time more directly towards the ceiling. Her hands were visibly scarred. “These are the emergency brakes. You will pull one, the hyperloop will stop, and you will get off.”

Pilgrim looked up and noticed two cords that ran along the full length of the coach on either wall. The cord along the right side of the coach was red, and the left was blue. Both cords splintered off at different points and grew upwards, overlapping each other in great fractal patterns across the ceiling of the coach. It looked organic, like a map of the human vascular system.

Finally appreciating the full scope of this bizarre environment, Pilgrim saw everything at once, and looked back at Demo. The palette of the old woman- her hair, eyes, clothes- completely synchronized with the hyperloop’s pod. Pilgrim assumed that they were connected, a set that would be lacking if either was missing. He did not know why he assumed this, or if it mattered. “Ok,” Pilgrim spoke hesitantly, “so I just pull one, and I can leave?”

“Basically, yes-” Demo paused to allow her guest to interject.

Pilgrim said nothing.

“-yes, but both cords yield different results.” Above the bench where Demo had sat down, the red cord hung slackly, she looked up at it. Her neck, wrinkled by indeterminate age, also had strange scars, like her hands. “If you pull this brake, the hyperloop will come to a stop and you will be free to exit the coach. But you will be entering into a world that never really changes. It is a world of stability, a consistency that will be very comforting. It is a small world, your days will consist of simple pleasures. You will know everyone there as soon as you arrive, and everyone there will know you. But there will also be problems-” Demo paused to gauge the reaction to her words.

Pilgrim stood in the middle aisle of the coach looking at her, he was alternating between biting his thumb nail and vigorously itching his shoulder. His brow was furrowed, but his eyes were wide and unblinking.

She continued, “-the problems will lurk quietly out of sight. No one will tell you what they are, no one will even talk about them. But if left untamed, they will continue to grow until they destroy that world. It would be your responsibility to keep those problems in check, Pilgrim.”

“Wait, why would I have to fix everything? You said there will be other people there, too.”

“Yes, but this is your decision, and the repercussions of whichever choice you make will be your responsibility to foster.”

Pilgrim shuffled uncomfortably where he stood, his shoulders ached and he did not know why. His eyes were dry. He sat down on the bench across the aisle from Demo, facing her. “Why can’t I just go back to wherever I came from?”

“Do you remember where you came from?”

Pilgrim closed his eyes, “No.” All he could remember was the ship from his nightmare. And after all of this, he was not even sure if it had been a nightmare. He remembered the soothing rhythm of pouring out the buckets of saltwater. Maybe the red world would be like that, he thought, but with people around to talk to. He could feel Demo’s eyes on him, reading his body language. He straightened his posture. “Ok. And the blue cord?”

Demo nodded and took a deep, raspy breath. She looked up at the blue cord, which was strung above where Pilgrim had sat down. “If you pull that emergency brake, the hyperloop will come to a stop and you will be free to exit the coach. But you will be entering into a world that constantly changes. It is a world of excitement, a spontaneity that will be very exhilarating. It is a large world, your days will consist of new adventures. You will not know anyone when you first arrive, and no one will know you. After a time, you will meet who you want to meet. But-”

“-there will also be problems.”

“Yes, -in a world with so many new ideas, not all of them will be good. Some of them will cause problems that will be abrupt, loud, and unique each time. Everyone will talk about them constantly, they will obsess over how to solve them, but no one ever will. It would be your responsibility to keep those problems in check, Pilgrim.” When she had finished, Demo lowered her aged head knowingly, patiently. Her guest would need time to digest.

_____

The pressure seemed immense, and the pain had spread from Pilgrim’s shoulders downward, seeping into the rest of his body. He clenched his hands, they felt itchy. He scratched at his neck and sighed, looking towards the old woman. He wanted to blame her for the predicament he was in. He wanted to shoot, but he also figured that she was just a feeble messenger. He wanted to beg for a third option, a marginally better combination of the two worlds, but that, too, would have been futile. There were only two cords.

Again, Pilgrim thought back to his dream- with no other memories, it was his only point of reference. It was true that the self-sufficient productivity of dumping the water had been soothing, and a sort of morbid point of pride. But after really considering it, Pilgrim wondered if there had been a deeper motivation. Keeping the ship afloat would have meant that it could keep on sailing, and eventually land somewhere, presumably. That notion of arriving in some new place had been compelling. Adventure. The blue world carried that same temptation- a compulsion of curiosity and intrigue. But the reward might not always be worth the risk. Pilgrim sat mulling for a long time as the pain reached down his legs. He looked at Demo, and saw the lowermost parts of her legs below the white leather of her garment. They, too, were scarred and bruised. He closed his eyes again before finally stating “I’ve made my decision.”

Demo looked up and nodded to him without an ounce of expression. “I’m going to move to the far end of the coach. This is your decision, and it should be made in private.” She stood slowly, quivering slightly under her own weight. “Good luck, Pilgrim, I hope you’re happy in your new home.” She had said it over her shoulder as she shuffled towards a far-off bench.

“Thanks, I guess.” Pilgrim spoke with a tired, insincere flatness. He watched as she sat in the last seat in the aisle, lowered her head again, and lightly reached out to hold one of the white handrails that circled the coach. Pilgrim turned around, now standing in the center of the aisle, and looked between the two emergency brakes and the dazzling pattern of wires overhead. He reached up with his aching arm.

_____

Demo braced herself as the hyperloop halted. She had never known why it always had to stop so abruptly. One of these days she was sure that she would lose her grip and topple over.

Her head remained low as she heard the door of the coach whoosh open. She did not like to watch her guests leave. It seemed impolite for some reason. And maybe there was a tinge of guilt, too. The guilt was certainly why Demo did not like to watch her guests make their decision. But she had always rationalized the fact that she had made the whole thing up.

The door whooshed closed.

It was true that she had lied. But Demo remembered the day that she had woken up on the hyperloop, such a long time prior. She recalled the fear, the high expectations of making a choice, without anyone there to guide her, to explain anything. So she never chose.

As time had passed, more people had shown up, one at a time, and Demo had watched them all face the awful existentialism of it all. Unlike her, they had all made a choice eventually, but they had exited the coach so timidly, usually in tears.

So yes, it was true that she had lied, but Demo liked to think that the conversations she had fabricated with her guests had inspired them to be more confident in their decisions. Regardless of where they ended up, they would land there with conviction.

She was comforted by all of this, per usual, as she stood up from the bench and looked down towards the other end of the coach. She watched on as a young woman began to wake up from the same seat that Pilgrim had appeared on.

Demo started towards the young woman so that she could properly introduce herself.