The Eternal Express

“Tickets please.”

The call roused Eli from his slumber. There was no telling how long he’d been asleep for; all he knew was that it must’ve been a particularly deep and restful one. His eyelids felt weighted, proving to be an effort to prise them open. Groggily, he tried to blink the haze of sleep from his eyes.

As his vision gradually began to focus, the world around him resolved itself into solid, recognisable shapes. But not recognisable surroundings. He racked his brains to try and make sense of where he’d woken up. The hypnotically rhythmic clickety-clack of wheels on a track and the gentle chug of an engine soon gave him a clue, though.

He was in a train carriage, that much was certain. Specifically, he was laying across the seats on one side of a booth in a rather decorous train carriage. The cushioned seat was warm and comfortable, so soft he could sink into it, and Eli was reluctant to move from his recumbent repose. Above him, a stylish Victorian lamp bathed the booth in a pleasant orange glow. The booth’s table, which he used for support as he eased himself upright, was of a rich mahogany.

The wall panelling was of the same polished mahogany, wrapping the carriage in its warm reddish shade. Gilt detailing adorned the trims and pilasters which decorated the walls, gleaming in the light of the antique lamps. Thick teal curtains hung down over the windows, complementing the muted turquoise of the seat cushions. Wooden boards lined the floor beneath him, with a long carpet of a darker teal running the length of the carriage's aisle.

He noticed other people dotted about the carriage, too, sitting back in their seats, reading from newspapers and books, or gazing wistfully out of the windows. They were an odd collection of passengers: some old and others young; several formally dressed, a few more casually clothed. There was the occasional group sharing a booth, but most seemed to be content in their own atmosphere.

It was quite the luxury, Eli thought, having the whole booth to himself, in a carriage as lavish and comforting as this. He’d clearly been able to doze off without a care in the world, finding a comfortable position without worrying about disturbing anyone else. No one to awkwardly apologise to for falling asleep on their shoulder, or anyone to complain that he’d been taking up too much space while sprawled out as he was. He’d really lucked out when he’d booked this ticket.

Except…

“Tickets please.”

Except he didn’t remember booking any ticket. Especially not for a booth; he’d have opted for an economy seat to wherever he was going. And that was the other thing: he couldn’t for the life of him remember where that was. Come to think of it, he couldn’t even remember boarding the train in the first place.

Hastily, Eli fumbled with his jacket pockets. His fingers rummaged through one after the other, clutching futilely at the lining and producing nothing but small balls of lint. No wallet, no phone, no keys. Certainly no train ticket. He swallowed hard.

Nothing quite wakes one up as much as the sudden onset of anxiety. This was evidently not a cheap journey, and he was bound to be dealt a hefty penalty fare for boarding without a ticket. He very much doubted the ticket inspector would accept ‘I have no idea where I am or how I got here’ as a valid excuse, and he couldn’t even offer to pay on the spot with his wallet conspicuously missing.

Perhaps he’d been mugged? Maybe he’d been abducted, had his wallet and phone stolen, and been left on a luxury train for… Well, the last part of this hypothetically diabolical plan escaped his understanding. It was all theoretical, anyway. What was important, and very real, was that sooner or later he was going to find himself confronted by the train guard, and probably thrown off of the carriage in the middle of who-knows-where.

Eli sat rigidly in his seat, still patting desperately at his pockets in the vain hope that he’d somehow missed the ticket.

He hadn’t.

Craning his neck around and peering over the back of his seat, Eli chanced a glance behind him. He could see the ticket inspector—an older gentleman, sporting a grey moustache and wearing a navy blue suit with matching Breton cap—slowly making his way down the aisle. He stopped next to an elderly couple, who sat arm-in-arm towards the rear of the carriage. They smiled warmly up at the inspector as they handed him their tickets.

“Looks like you were due to join us earlier, sir,” the inspector said as he examined the tickets. It wasn’t an accusation, more of an enquiring observation.

The old man seemed unconcerned. “Oh, yes, well,” he began to answer, “it wasn’t quite Deirdre’s time yet, you see.” He reached out his free hand, gently patting his wife’s arm. “I wasn’t going to leave without her.”

“And I can’t tell you what a relief it was to see Cedric waiting for me on that platform,” Deirdre trilled. “It’s so nice we can share this journey.”

“I understand,” the inspector said with a sagely nod, “we have a lot of people who choose to wait for their loved ones. I hope you enjoy your onward journey together.” He handed them back their tickets, and resumed his slow march down the aisle of the carriage, calling out again, “Have your tickets ready, please.”

Eli’s pulse quickened. The inspector seemed amiable enough, but still he didn’t want to be accosted, fined, or escorted from the train. He had no idea where he was, let alone how he’d find his way home without his phone or wallet. Sitting back down in his seat, he rushed to think of a plan of action. While his mind whirled, he noticed that several rows ahead of him there was a woman sitting by herself. Her head rested in the palm of her hand as she gazed wistfully out of the train’s window.

The window… Of course!

Perhaps if he could make sense of the world outside the window, he might get an idea of where he was. It might even help jog his memory as to what he was doing on this train, or the reason why he seemed to have none of his worldly possessions on him. Gently pulling aside the velvety teal curtain, Eli peered out through the glass.

It did not give him the answers he was hoping for.

There was a landscape outside, although precisely what kind of landscape he couldn’t tell. The world was shrouded in a thick, white fog. It pressed against the windows, seemingly undisturbed by the train’s motion. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have said it was not unlike passing through dense cloud on a long flight. Except for the fact that, through this misty veil, he could glimpse the vague shapes of a world beyond. Hazy and indistinct shapes he couldn’t begin to recognise.

Where the hell am I?

As the inspector busied himself with another passenger, Eli seized the opportunity. He stood up from the booth, his legs numb and slightly wobbly beneath him, and made his way further along the carriage. The train swayed to-and-fro as it sped along the track through the mist, causing Eli to lurch and stumble forwards, having to balance himself by holding the backs of the chairs.

The fact that the inspector managed to stand so stoically sturdy despite the constant motion was surreal. It was as if he was one with the train, in tune with the ebb and flow of its movement. Presumably something he’d honed over the years—perhaps even decades—of working on the rails.

Eli staggered his way to the row where the woman was seated. She paid no attention to him, preoccupied with staring out of the window, lost in her own thoughts, until he cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he said as she casually turned to face him, “I’m sorry to bother you, but… Where are we going?”

“Well, that depends,” she replied. “Where do you want to go?”

As far as answers go, this one was decidedly less helpful than he would’ve preferred. “That’s kind of the thing,” he said blankly, “I don’t know.”

“Isn’t that all part of the journey? The not knowing, looking back at where we came from and finding ourselves again on our onward paths.”

Eli had never been averse to an unplanned trip; sometimes those were the most fun, the most adventurous. But not when he didn’t have a destination, a ticket, or even the foggiest idea how he’d got on the train in the first place. “I’m not entirely sure how I got here. I just woke up in those seats a few moments ago.”

“Oh yes, that will be disorienting,” the woman nodded understandingly. “Get yourself a coffee from the dining carriage. That’s the first thing I did when I departed from my station.”

“I don’t have any money on me.”

“You won’t need it, it’s complementary. The server’s lovely, too.”

“Oh, okay,” Eli said with a hollow lack of understanding, “thank you. I’ll… Get a cup of coffee, I suppose.”

“I hope you figure out your journey,” she said cheerily, and returned her attention to the vagueness outside.

Me too, he thought as he continued his uncoordinated stumble down the carriage, me too. He couldn’t quite place his finger on it, but there was something undeniably and indefinably ‘off’ about this train. The more he tried to make sense of the situation, the less sense it made. It was as if the universe was conspiring to remain one step beyond the understandable.

There was one thing which he could understand. As he opened the door into the connecting carriage, he was hit by the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the warm, sweet smell of pastries. He was hungry. Famished, even. He’d been so caught up in trying to figure out what was going on that he’d barely paid any attention to it, but the empty pangs in his stomach were inescapable now.

At least, he considered, after something to eat and a bit of caffeine to jump-start his mind, he might be able to think clearer. Maybe then things would begin to make a little more sense. Although he wasn’t holding out much hope of that.

The dining car was as luxurious as he imagined it would be. It was wide enough to accommodate proper dining tables and chairs along one side, with the service bar on the other. He could’ve sworn it looked wider than the one he’d just left, too. The tables were pristinely laid out, draped in thick white cotton cloths, with sparkling silverware and small floral centrepieces. Most of the tables remained undisturbed in their perfection, although a few were occupied with passengers dining on gourmet meals.

A waiter—a youngish man with quiffed hair, clad in a white dress shirt and burgundy waistcoat—stood behind the bar. He was busy polishing wine glasses, delicately hanging them up on the rack above the counter. They stayed eerily still, not even remotely clinking together. Quite how they weren’t jostled loose by the train’s motion, Eli didn’t know. But then again, there were a lot of things he was realising he didn’t know, and thought best not to question it.

“Oof, rough journey?” the waiter greeted Eli as he came to sit at the bar.

“Something like that, I guess,” he replied. “Can I just get a coffee and a—” It was then that Eli noticed that, despite being able to smell the aroma of fresh baked goods, there were none in sight. Which was a shame; he quite fancied a cinnamon roll. Instinctively, he reached for the nearest menu instead.

“Ah, say no more,” the waiter said, as if in response to some unspoken question. He spun around, placing a cup beneath the large brass espresso machine, before ducking down behind the bar. The machine began to whir, grinding the beans and pouring the rich, steaming coffee into the cup. Just as it finished, the waiter reappeared and placed a small dish in front of Eli. On it, glisteningly sticky and the icing still gooey, was a cinnamon roll.

“How did you—?” Eli asked as the sweet scent of cinnamon seeped into his nostrils.

“It’s got to be time for a spot of fika somewhere, right?” the waiter said with a wink, and slid the cup of coffee across the counter to him. “Besides, you look like you need a bit of a pick-me-up.”

“You have no idea,” he sighed. Eli let out a satisfied ‘ah’ after the first deep, rich and smoky sip. “That’s just what I needed,” he said, before taking a bite out of the sickly-sweet swirl.

“So what’s your story, friend?” the waiter asked, returning to polishing glasses. “Where are you headed?”

Eli discovered that staring into his coffee cup for answers was surprisingly similar to looking inside his own mind for them. Dark and murky. “Honestly? I haven’t the foggiest,” he muffled through a mouthful of cinnamon roll. “I don’t know how I got here, let alone where I’m going. But you said ‘fika’, right? Are we in Sweden?” It sounded stupid even as he said it, but he was clutching at straws.

“You really are a lost soul, aren’t you?” the waiter said. His expression was a mix between sympathy and surprise. “No, nowhere near Sweden. Not in a tangible sense. But they are onto something; coffee, cinnamon rolls, and a good chat are great for the spirit.”

“So where exactly are we then?” Eli was growing tired of these vague half-answers. It wasn’t much to ask for, to know where he was or where they were heading, but the world seemed reluctant to offer anything beyond these absurd riddles.

“It’s not the easiest thing to explain,” the waiter said. “See, you’re still thinking of ‘where’ as a location. You’re somewhere a bit more… Conceptual.”

“Oh great,” Eli breathed. “So I’ve stumbled onto some kind of avant-garde immersive art train.”

“No, no,” the waiter shook his head with an amused smirk. He carefully balanced the last wine glass above him and leaned across the counter. “You’re on the Liminal Line. The Eternal Express route between everywhere and nowhere.”

As far as responses went, this was the closest Eli had felt to something approaching an answer. It still resolutely failed to resolve his questions, though. “Okay, so,” he spoke slowly, taking a contemplative sip of coffee, “that means what, precisely?”

“I hate to break the news to you, friend, but I think you’re trying to deny something you already know… You are, in the earthly sense of the word, dead.”

The news struck Eli like a particularly apt simile about being hit by a train. His breath caught in his throat. The world around him began to spin. A sinking dread weighed heavily in his stomach; an uncomfortable sensation alongside the cinnamon roll. “I’m,” he gulped, “dead?”

Saying the words aloud almost helped, but only almost. It was as if the odd, dream-like haze he'd been drifting through condensed in that moment, solidifying with the weight of reality. Flashes from before he woke flooded his memory. The nascent echoes of fear and uncertainty, a sense of hopeless inevitability, and the fade to black. And then, the booth in the train carriage, the embrace of its comforting décor.

“How did I…?” he hesitated to ask the question. A part of him dreaded the answer, but he couldn’t not know.

“How did you die? Oh, I can’t answer that,” the waiter said casually, “that’s something only you and the inspector know.”

At least the part of Eli which dreaded the answer felt relieved. Although he was beginning to resent being kept in the dark with everything that was going on. The fact that he was dead, and that this was the first he was hearing about it—from a waiter in a train’s dining car, no less—seemed like quite an important piece of information to share with him.

“So everyone on this train is… Dead?”

“You, me, the Fredriksons on table four over there,” the waiter nodded to a couple seated in the corner, sharing a platter of appetisers, “all travelling through the afterlife.”

Eli dropped his cinnamon roll to the plate. “Wait a minute,” he said, “if I’m—if we’re all—dead, then how am I eating? Why is anyone eating?”

“Like I said, it’s more conceptual than you’re used to. The soul needs nourishment just as much as the body. It’s just how you make sense of it. Your perception informs your reality. You know some people are still ferried to the afterlife on the Ship of Souls? It’s been running for millennia; I guess they enjoy the cruise.”

“Are we in Heaven?” Eli asked. The idea of the afterlife was beginning to settle in, but it was still difficult to wrap his head around.

“No, not exactly Heaven…”

“Hell?!” He was wrong. The idea of the afterlife wasn’t settling in. If this wasn’t Heaven, the thought of the alternative deeply disturbed his already disquieted soul. The furnishings on the train did seem a little incongruous, though; a bit luxurious for the realm of the damned.

“It’s not Hell, either,” the waiter chuckled. “Death, as in life, isn’t a simple binary. It doesn’t have to be one thing or the other. There are many different destinations it can take you, all with new adventures yet to be lived. No one’s journey is ever quite the same as another’s.”

Eli nodded slowly. Not because he knew this—how could he?—but because he had no idea how to respond. It was a lot to take in. “And this makes you, what, some kind of angel?”

“I’m a bartender, not a miracle worker,” the waiter winked. “Not really an angel, more of a guide, I suppose. I noticed while some people were prepared for the next leg of their journey, and knew they were due to depart, others weren’t so ready to leave. They needed something to help them settle in, and what better than complimentary catering and a chat? I decided to take a few centuries out between lifetimes, give them a friendly face to talk through their troubles.”

“Between lifetimes,” Eli boggled, “as in, reincarnation? So this is more of a between life?”

“Afterlife, between life, pre-life,” the waiter shrugged his shoulders, “it’s all the same from an eternal, non-linear perspective. What matters is where you’re going.”

Eli slumped back in his chair. As overwhelming as the news of his death and his sudden arrival on the afterlife’s Eternal Express had been, it at least felt like he understood something. Now he was reminded that he still wasn’t clear on how he’d got there, or where he was heading.

“That’s the thing,” he spoke solemnly, like he was confessing to a terrible secret, “I don’t know where I’m going.”

“Well, what does it say on your ticket?”

As if to telegraph his absolute sincerity, Eli patted down his pockets. “I don’t have a ticket.”

“Oh.” The waiter’s face seemed less cheery, adopting a more sympathetic expression. “The inspector should be able to help you with that.”

Whether by sheer coincidence or divine providence—who’s to say on board a train beyond the earthly plane—the door to the dining car opened, and through it stepped the ticket inspector. Eli felt himself tense. He’d been worried about being fined or thrown off the train before, but now he knew he was on the railway between everywhere and nowhere, the implications were infinitely more worrisome.

“Inspector!” the waiter called out. “If you have a moment, I’ve got a gentleman here who could use some help.” He leaned across the counter, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He always has a moment to spare, that’s the thing about eternity,” he hushed to Eli, “and don’t worry. It’ll all be fine.”

Before Eli had a chance to say anything, the waiter had glided away to the other end of the bar, where he proceeded to rearrange a pot with little paper umbrellas.

The inspector strode purposefully over, leaning against the counter beside Eli. “How can I help you, sir?” he asked, smiling a warm and kindly smile. “New aboard the Eternal Express?”

“Yes, the problem is I, uh,” Eli paused, looking sheepishly up at the inspector, “I don’t seem to have a ticket.”

“You’re not the first, don’t worry about it. We can sort it out. What’s your name, please?”

“Eli,” replied Eli. Despite the inspector’s gentle demeanour, it still felt like he was giving his name for a penalty fare. “Eli Johansson.”

The inspector pulled a notepad out of his satchel. Wetting his index finger with his tongue, he began to flip through the pages, all the while muttering, “Eli, Eli, Eli…” It felt as if an eternity was passing—which, all things considered, wasn’t entirely out of the question—before the inspector finally planted a triumphant finger on one of the pages.

“Here we are, Eli Johansson.” His eyes darted between page and passenger. “I see. That’s why you don’t have a ticket. You appear to have joined us too early.”

Too early? The thought didn’t sit well with Eli. Learning he had died was troubling news to begin with, but the fact that it had been ‘too early’ only made things worse. “What do you—” he began, but the inspector cut him short.

“Why don’t you join me over here for a moment.”

A nervous tension bubbled in Eli’s chest. His face felt hot and flushed. He grew light-headed and anxious. It reminded him of the times he’d been summoned to the principal’s office at school. It was a feeling he used to think people grew out of, until he’d experienced the same sensation whenever he’d had to attend a performance review at work. Memories of a life which no longer was. In hindsight, neither school nor work mattered one iota; the supposed importance of both paled in comparison to finding himself in the afterlife too soon. Worse, without a ticket.

If there was one thing which confirmed this wasn’t Heaven—other than the waiter saying so—it was this inescapable anxiety which gripped him.

Nonetheless, he dutifully followed the inspector over to a couch in the far corner. It was discreetly tucked away from the other passengers, which was a relief. If there was one thing worse than having to answer to a higher authority, it was having an audience for it. He took a seat next to the inspector. Despite his nerves, there was something comforting, reassuring, about the man.

“When people pass on, and they depart from their stations,” the inspector spoke softly, “it’s because it was their time. There are different potential departure times, of course, and the schedule can sometimes change. Different choices, different journeys, different terminals. But you only ever leave the station once. Sometimes, your Eternal Express ticket already has your next destination on it; others, it’s more of a rail pass until you know where you want your journey to take you.

“But sometimes people, like yourself, end up here without a ticket. They’ve boarded the train sooner than they should have, catching an earlier departure than was originally scheduled. Despite our best efforts, life can take some unexpected turns. Unforeseen circumstances happen. And suddenly they can find themselves rushing to board a train they weren’t booked in for. It can be disorienting, even disturbing, at first. But even though their tickets aren’t quite ready for collection yet, they’re still welcome aboard; to settle into a new journey and figure out their destination.”

Eli began to shake. An involuntary rush of emotion flooded through him, causing his fingers to tremble. His eyes grew warm and watery. He wasn’t sure he could hear what was about to be said—he wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready—but he knew he had to. He’d find no peace and no onward journey trying to deny the truth of the situation.

“Now this is going to be hard to hear,” the inspector said. He placed a reassuring hand on Eli’s shoulder. “Events like this… They tend to leave a blank spot in the memory. It’s easier to adjust and find yourself again if you don’t immediately remember what happened. And I’m sorry to have to tell you, but Eli… There was an accident.”

The floodgates opened. Eli remembered now. He remembered it all too vividly. The tears he’d been trying to hold back started to stream down his face, hot and stinging. His body began to quake. Lurching, heaving sobs as the emotions coursed through him. It all came rushing back to him. The heartache, the desperation. He’d been lost, directionless; adrift in a life which felt like it was crumbling all around him.

A short time ago, in another lifetime, Eli had fallen into a pit of despair. He couldn’t see his way forward; couldn’t imagine how he could get his life back on track. Everything he thought he knew, everything he’d dreamed of for himself, seemed to be no more than a far-flung fantasy. He had become a failure in his eyes. The light at the end of the tunnel had faded, shrouded in impenetrable darkness.

The bleak abyss of depression haunted him, keeping him awake long into the dark and lonely nights. Nothing but his own thoughts and failings for company. It gnawed at his consciousness, his futile desperation swallowing any motivation he had tried to hold on to. And while his time on the waitlist for therapy was a long and arduous one, all he could do was try to keep himself distracted and hope for these thoughts to pass. It was the only lifeline he felt like he had left.

During these sleepless nights, while the rest of the world was calm and silent, he had taken to driving around the streets. Whether it was the cool night air, the stillness which seemed to blanket the world, or simply the act of roaming the empty roads, he found a certain peace. It kept him occupied, focused on something other than his state of mind, and gave him the chance for some quiet reflection and contemplation.

That was until one fateful night. Again he found himself struggling to sleep, thoughts racing through his mind, and decided to drive around his usual circuit to help clear his head. He’d grown used to the roads by now, and with the route devoid of traffic he could follow it almost absent-mindedly. Lost in the solemnity of his thoughts, bleary eyed and fogged with fatigue, Eli had not been paying attention to his surroundings.

His car was struck sideways, full-force, by a vehicle speeding through a crossroad. A drunk driver, the police report would later show. Not that Eli was aware of this. The impact had sent him spiralling out of control, careening into a wall. It can only be considered a kindness that the accident had knocked him unconscious for those final fleeting moments as his life slipped away.

As the rush of memories returned to the present moment, Eli looked up at the inspector with sorrowful, imploring eyes. “I couldn’t carry on,” he tried to speak, his voice muffled through heavy sobs, “I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I was so weak.”

The inspector passed him a handkerchief, which Eli gratefully blew his nose into. “There’s no shame in feeling like you can’t carry on,” the inspector said sympathetically. “We all have those moments when the future may seem bleak. It doesn’t mean you’re weak, admitting you don’t know how you’re going to take another step.”

“It doesn’t?” he choked.

“Not at all. You see, life is like a ride. It has its ups and downs, and sometimes we don’t know where the next twist or turn is going to take us. Sometimes it might seem like it’ll never pick back up. But that’s all part of the journey. Just because the ride has slowed down doesn’t mean it’s over.”

“But…” Eli gulped back his tears and dabbed his nose. “But I wasn’t ready to go.”

“I know,” replied the inspector, “I’m sorry it turned out this way, Eli.”

With a shaking breath, trying to hold back the deluge of emotions, he asked the question which had plagued him for so many months before. “Can you tell me what would’ve happened?” he asked. “Would it have all worked out eventually?”

“That I can not answer,” the inspector shook his head solemnly. “There’s no telling how things may have turned out. All I can tell you is this: you did the best you could throughout your life, you tried your hardest when things were tough, and that’s commendable. There’s always a chance for things to turn around. None of us can ever truly know what awaits us, just beyond the horizon.”

“So,” Eli swallowed back his tears, “what happens now?”

“That,” the inspector said with a warm smile, “is a choice only we can make for ourselves. We may not always know the journey ahead of us, but only we can make the most of it.”