What I needed to see

Do you know what a broken spirit looks like?

It looks like a 40-year-old math professor who just submitted his grades for the semester in the spring of 2021 – right in the heart of the pandemic.

Teaching is always fairly stressful, and submitting grades is always fraught. But the Pandemic Year was even worse. Do you know how hard it is to teach math to a bunch of blank screens? I’m sure you can imagine. Your job was probably hard too. It was hard on all of us.

At any rate, I found myself sitting in my chair, alone, in the early afternoon, with a strong drink. Perhaps self-medicating with alcohol is a poor choice, but right then, it seemed like as good a choice as any. I sat, and I drank, and I felt sad. Sad that I was alone, sad that my job felt useless, sad that I hadn’t been able to connect with other humans on anything like a meaningful level in far too long.

Soon, my eyes felt heavy, and I submitted and let my eyes droop closed. I suppose I dozed off.

*******************************************************************

I awakened in an unfamiliar place. I really thought I had been in my chair at home. Wasn’t this the end of the semester? I just submitted grades earlier today, in fact… assuming it was still today. I couldn’t be sure. It was much lighter than I thought it ought to be, and that felt disorienting.

I opened my eyes and looked around.

The first thing I really noticed was that I felt great. I felt more alive than I had in a while. I could see better than I remembered; my sight felt sharp and exact.

I also felt like moving. Like there was an energy in my body that needed to do stuff. I remembered feeling like that before, of course, but lately that hadn’t been the case.

As I looked around, it seemed I was on a train, I guessed, although I certainly didn’t remember boarding a train, and I was certain I had never seen this particular train before. But, well, there I was.

I felt the need to use the facilities. I looked both forward and backward down the aisles but I didn’t see a restroom. I decided to head in toward the back, naively thinking that maybe the restrooms might be toward the rear (but also knowing that I had absolutely no basis for that guess, it just seemed right).

I had to cross over from the car I was in to the next one, but in the next car there was a unisex restroom, currently unoccupied. I entered.

I shut the door behind me and looked up, and found myself looking directly into a mirror. My first thought was she’s hot. My second thought was wait… that’s me!? My third thought was what in the literal fuck? My fourth thought was hell yeah, I’m hot! Red wavy hair, green eyes, cute smile. I felt rather proud. But before I could do much more thinking about that, I really had to pee.

I wasn’t quite sure how this was going to work. I decided to have a seat, relax, and hope that biology would do its job. Hopefully this body I was currently occupying knew its business. Sure enough, it went rather smoothly, and actually felt mostly familiar and comfortable. So that was alright, I guess.

I finished up and made my way back to my seat. I didn’t really know what was going on. Was this a dream? Or, hell, was the other thing with the teaching gig a dream? Or multiple universes? Or magic?

I sat and kind of just thought for a while. My thoughts were fast, hectic, and difficult to pin down into coherent statements. I suppose one could say I was simply taking it all in.

One of my guiding principles in life is to accept what is. I was very curious about how I managed to end up here, on this train, in this body, but the more important realization was that I was, in fact, here. Fighting against that reality or questioning it wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

Presently, a smartly dressed gentleman approached. “Ms. Baker, I presume?”

Was that me? Ms. Baker? I made an attempt at a charming smile. “A reasonable conclusion.” I reached out and shook his offered hand.

“Best not to delay, Ms. Baker. Please, right this way.” He nodded his head to indicate that I should follow.

I followed.

We headed forward on the train this time, the opposite direction from where I had found the restroom. We passed through 3 cars, and arrived at a fourth, which had been roped off and had men posted near the door, presumably guarding the car. The men made way for us.

There was a body in the room, face down. There was a large blood stain on the floor around the body.

An attractive woman with caramel-colored skin and dark hair looked up as I entered. The gentleman who had guided me gestured toward me, “Ms. Baker.” He looked at me and gestured toward the woman. “This is Dr. Franklin. She is serving as our medical examiner.”

Dr. Franklin smiled. “Serving as a medical examiner, yes. I usually prefer to work with live patients, but given that there is no proper medical examiner on board the train, Holcomb has asked me to take a look and see what I can see.”

I vaguely became aware that my face was not doing anything. I was simply confused. I hoped I didn’t look confused though. Best if they continue to think I’m whoever they thought I was. So I made an effort at an expression that was pleasant but also appropriately somber, and nodded to Dr. Franklin to go on.

“Cause of death is straightforward. This man had his throat cut. The cut is clean and deep, and there aren’t really any other signs of struggle.” Dr. Franklin grimaced as though she had eaten something foul.

“I see.” It still wasn’t totally clear to me what my role here was supposed to be, so I just aimed for politeness. “Thank you.”

The gentleman spoke up again. “Excellent. Thank you, Dr. Franklin.” He looked at me. “I assume you’ll want to examine the scene. Please do so quickly, we would like to get this cleaned up as soon as possible. It’s impeding the function of the train.”

The gentleman – Holcomb, I suppose – was hovering. Clearly, he expected that I would look over the scene right now. Did he think I was some sort of investigator? I wasn’t firmly sure that any of this was even real, and I didn’t know what to do besides just go along with it. Hell, I didn’t even recognize my own face in the mirror. So I walked around the car.

There was, honestly, very little to see, other than the body in the aisle. Given the positioning, I guessed that maybe the victim was walking from the front to the back, and someone came up behind him and cut his throat. I wasn’t sure if there was something in particular that I needed to notice, but nothing stood out. Of course, I wasn’t actually an investigator.

I tried to make myself seem confident. “Thank you. I believe I have seen what I need to see here.”

Holcomb nodded. “Excellent.” He produced a piece of paper. “I have prepared a list of people you may want to question about this business.”

He handed me a paper with several names on it, as well as a description of their relationship to the Baron. Was the Baron the victim?

“And where can I find these people?”

The man nodded again. “I have assigned one of our stewards to you. She can find them. Please, follow me.” He quickly headed toward the front. I followed.

Several cars later, he introduced me to a young woman named Cara, who seemed much friendlier and more open than Holcomb had been. She had short brown hair, and the sort of beauty that is mostly built of youth and energy and happiness.

Cara was not terribly bright. I had the impression that the gentleman – Cara told me his name was Holcomb – had given me Cara as a guide because she was not needed elsewhere on the train. The fact that Cara was dull was both a blessing and a curse: she was less helpful than I could have wished, but it was pretty easy to pull some basic information out of her without letting on that I knew absolutely nothing about where I was or what I was supposed to be doing.

Turns out I was called Hadley Baker, and I was an investigator of some renown. I had been called here to the train in order to investigate the murder of one Baron Turnbull. I had been teleported onto the train, which in my world was not possible, but apparently was common enough here that Cara was not shocked by it, but rare enough that one didn’t go around teleporting everywhere whenever they wanted.

I looked at the list:

Ryme – the Baron’s secretary

Zathgyr – craftsman, has worked with the Baron on occasion

Stanny – engineer, in charge of the train at the Baron’s behest

Oken – scholar, the Baron met with him recently

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. I really needed to get my bearings, so I decided to start with Ryme. In my experience, if you want to know what’s going on, ask the secretary. I got a pen and a little notebook from Cara, and I attempted to make myself presentable.

I was in a body that I was not at all familiar with. It was a good body though, and I felt comfortable for the most part. I was limber and coordinated and nothing in particular hurt. I liked how I looked and I liked how I felt, and I guess one can’t really ask more than that. Maybe people would treat me differently than I was used to, but at this point I had talked to exactly 3 people in high stress situations, so I wasn’t comfortable making any claims about how people might treat me until I had a good deal more evidence.

I followed Cara’s directions toward the front of the train. It wasn’t far, fortunately. Cara said this train was extremely long – long enough that she had walked toward the back of the train for up to an hour without coming anywhere near the end. But up here in the front was where the Baron kept his quarters, and all the people on my list were up near the front as well.

I arrived in a car that was decorated simply but richly. The floor was hardwood – likely oak – and the rails were mahogany with a beautiful finish that coated and protected, but you could still feel the grain of the wood. The curtains were simple deep green with a bronze colored cord holding them back so the light shown in. Everything about the car screamed tasteful elegance. Just past the door to the car was a little spiral stair. You could easily miss the stair if you weren’t looking for it because of where it was placed. I headed up to find a second story to this car, which was more utilitarian than the lower section, but looked to have been decorated by the same person.

Behind a large desk was a petite woman with slightly graying hair and reading glasses. She looked up as I entered.

“I’m looking for Ryme. I hope I have found her.” I smiled to take the edge off of my direct approach.

Ryme smirked. “You’ve found her, yes. Or rather, you’ve found me.” She made a vague gesture with a mug she was holding. “Baker?”

I nodded.

“Am I your first stop?” She took a leisurely sip of whatever was in the mug.

“Well, I was greeted by Holcomb, looked at the scene of the crime, and had a brief chat with Cara.” I smiled a little. “So, yes, you’re my first stop.”

I pulled out my list that Holcomb had given me. “Holcomb gave me a list of names. I figured you were a good place to start. What can you tell me about the Baron’s recent affairs?”

Ryme glanced at the list. “Ah yes. Well, these names are a reasonable place to start. The Baron loves – loved – his gadgets. He often chatted with Stanny, who operates the train. I’m not sure Stanny would know much about any of the Baron’s affairs in any official sense, but he did interact with the Baron a lot, so he’s worth talking to. Zathgyr is a craftsman who keeps the train functioning and often made custom objects for the Baron. Probably worth your time to see what he was working on recently. Oken is… secretive and unpleasant. I don’t know if you’ll actually be able to find him, and if you do I doubt you’ll get anything useful from him. He may know nothing at all, and if he does know something, he may not tell you.”

Ryme paused and took a sip of her drink. “And then there’s me.” She smiled. “Very little happens -- happened – in the Baron’s life without my knowing about it. So if there are any details that you’d like to know about, I may have answers. Alas, I do not know who would have wanted to harm the Baron. He had been talking to Stanny, as is typical for him, and he was on his way to see Zathgyr. I know he was meeting Zathgyr, and I know they were working on something, but I do not know what the device was. The Baron was waylaid on his way from Stanny – in the engine room – to Zathgyr, who has quarters on the upper deck six cars back. It’s above the blue car that you traveled through on your way here. He had met with Oken 3 times in the last month, the last of which was more than a week ago. I’m not sure what the meetings were about.

“The Baron had no rivals, really. He owned and operated this train. As far as I know, no one else really wanted the train. He was isolated from the other nobles except when they wanted to travel on his train, and in those cases everyone seemed quite friendly. Mostly, the Baron wanted to play around with his gadgets and explore the world. I have also not heard of anyone on the train who resented him. He was always a fair administrator and got along well with the passenger-residents.”

Ryme sighed and looked down. “Honestly, Baker, if we had more to go on than that, we wouldn’t have needed your services.” Ryme’s eyes began to water. “Please, find us some answers, and bring the bastard who did this to justice.”

Ryme composed herself and dried her eyes and gave a tight smile. “Please do let me know how I can help.”

“Yes, of course.” I tried to look understanding and compassionate. “I do have one question. What happens to the train now? Does someone else inherit?”

“Ah yes, I meant to tell you that. His will states that the train and all of his money should go into a trust. The trustees are to be a collection of nobles from all over the continent. I will continue in my post, as will Holcomb.”

I thanked her and left.

So, scratch off financial motivation. I guess that was a little too obvious.

I figured Stanny would be the easiest name to cross off the list next, so I headed to see him. I was thinking that it would be easy because he would be easy to find, which he was. But it turned out that he was also easy to rule out as a suspect. Stanny was an old man – 80 at least. He had a lot of energy for an older guy. He talked a mile a minute and never stopped fiddling with the train controls, which were very complicated looking. I quickly learned that the Baron came here nearly every day, mostly just to watch Stanny do his thing with the train and to have a chat. Sometimes they would talk about the train, sometimes about old stories, sometimes about whatever shenanigans Stanny’s grandkids had been up to recently. Stanny seemed like the sort of person I would enjoy talking to but not the sort of person who would want to hurt anyone. I got the distinct impression that he considered the Baron to be his friend.

Zathgyr’s workshop was on the second floor of a train car a little ahead of the Baron’s car and a little behind the engine. There were gadgets everywhere. It was difficult to tell what was “tool” and what was “project,” but it seemed like there were a lot of both. Everything was well organized and tidy, although there was a lot of dust and grease and whatnot. Zathgyr was hunched over a workbench when I arrived, meticulously grinding a bit of metal.

I cleared my throat as politely as I could, trying to get Zathgyr’s attention without startling him. “Excuse me, are you Zathgyr?”

The grinding stopped. Zathgyr carefully set his tool aside, removed his glasses and set them next to the tool, and picked up a towel that was nearby and started wiping his hands aggressively. He looked up with an expression that seemed annoyed, but maybe was just blank. “Yes, I’m Zathgyr. Who wants to know?”

I smiled and tried to be pleasant. “Hi Zathgyr. I’m Hadley Baker. Pleased to meet you.” My smile turned serious. “Unfortunately, I’m here on unpleasant business. I imagine you are aware of the unfortunate situation with the Baron.”

Zathgyr continued to look annoyed. “Yes. What of it?”

I nodded and continued. “Yes, well, I’m here to figure out what happened. What can you tell me about the Baron?”

Zathgyr looked either pensive or annoyed – I couldn’t tell which – but didn’t respond right away. I tend to be much more comfortable with silence than most, but Zathgyr just stared for long enough to make me squirm. Finally he spoke. “My interactions with him were in regards to my work. I have done several projects for the Baron over the years. I’m on the train to make sure that it continues to operate smoothly. Part of the bargain is that I get to work on my own projects, whatever they may be, as long as the train continues to work smoothly. And it does run smoothly.”

Zathgyr gestured toward an object on a table near his workbench. “I just repaired that power coupling, for example.”

“The other part of the bargain is that when the Baron wants me to work on a project, I have to work on it.” He sighed. Then he pointed at the object he had been grinding when I came in. “This is my latest project. One I was working on with the Baron, in fact.”

Zathgyr paused, looked impatient, and gestured vaguely. “So, one of the issues with trains is that sometimes there are things on the tracks. A boulder, a tree, a bird… who knows. Stopping the train to clear the tracks isn’t a great idea. Right now, we blast any obstacles with a high powered energy beam. It’s not elegant, but it works… mostly. Sometimes we damage the track a little bit in the process. Fortunately there haven’t been any major catastrophes with it, but there is the potential. So I’ve been working on a solution with the Baron. It works on the same principles as teleportation. Teleporting objects away from the tracks is too costly, but we don’t actually need to teleport the objects away. We can just sort of make the object blink, if you will, just long enough for the train to get by. I guess Oken is a specialist in teleportation theory, and the Baron had some conversations with him that led him to believe this could work for us. It’s promising.”

Well, there was a link with another of the names on the list. “He had this idea from Oken?”

Zathgyr shrugged. “That’s what he said.”

I nodded. “That’s all very interesting. But can you think of any reason why someone would have wanted to hurt the Baron?”

Zathgyr shook his head. “Nope. But then, I don’t get involved in politics, and I certainly wouldn’t know anything about the Baron’s personal affair.” He shrugged.

I sighed. I couldn’t see how this was getting me closer to figuring out who had killed the Baron. Zathgyr was giving me no reason to think he had anything to do with the Baron’s death. I thanked Zathgyr for his time and went off in search of Oken.

The problem with Oken was that, as a scholar, he didn’t need to be in any particular place. No one could tell me with any certainty where I could find him. All I knew was that I was looking for a tall dark-haired bloke with a bushy beard and probably wearing blue. I checked the two places I was told he might be, and I didn’t see anyone fitting his description. I wasn’t entirely convinced Oken would be helpful, but walking around and searching for him gave me some time to think.

The problem was that I couldn’t see a motive. No one stood to gain from the Baron’s death financially. He had no family, and no romantic entanglements. Ryme and Holcomb would be running the train on behalf of the trust, but that didn’t seem appreciably different than running the train on behalf of the Baron.

Clearly though, there was a motive for someone. So I was missing something.

I made my way back to my temporary quarters. Cara was there, reading a book. She looked sad, and I thought that maybe she had been crying recently, which was understandable given the circumstances.

Cara put the book down and looked up. “Ms. Baker! How is the investigation going? Learn anything?”

I sighed. “Not really. I know more about trains and teleportation devices than I did before, but that isn’t helping me very much.”

Cara looked disappointed. “That’s OK. You’ll figure it out, I’m sure. Is there anything I can help with?”

I started to say no, but then I felt my stomach grumble. “Perhaps some food would be good.”

Cara brightened at that. Perhaps she was glad to have something to do. “Sure! Anything in particular?”

I shook my head. “Just choose for me. Something simple.”

“OK, no problem.” Cara forced a smile and left the room.

I settled myself at the small table in the room and resumed my thinking. Someone had a motive, but I had yet to see it.

Cara returned shortly and joined me at the table. “I got you a club sandwich. I hope that’s alright.”

I liked a good club sandwich, or at least I thought I had before the train. Maybe I still did. “Sure, sounds good.”

Cara wasn’t on my list, but it seemed like she knew the Baron, so I figured I would get whatever information I could. “So, Cara, tell me about the Baron. Did you know him well?”

Cara’s brave exterior crumbled. She started crying, although she held herself together enough to talk. “Yes, I knew him fairly well, I would think. He was just such a kind man. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt him.” With the last sentence her crying became more pronounced and she was having trouble talking.

I gave Cara a moment to recover herself. I felt bad that I had upset her, but on the other hand I had a job to do. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” I gently touched her arm. “Why don’t you tell me something happy about him? What’s a good memory you have?”

Cara started to relax a little. “Well…” She gave a half smile. “He was always kind to me. Always. Right from the beginning. Not everyone was, you know.” She started to become more animated. “Many here think I’m here only because of my uncle. And maybe that’s true, but that doesn’t mean I’m useless. I didn’t do anything wrong. I got a good job offer, and I took it. If my uncle had anything to do with it he didn’t tell me. Sometimes… sometimes I think people think I’m stupid. But I’m not. And Monty – the Baron, I mean – was always kind to me. He treated me like a person. And I’m sorry he’s gone.”

I sat without saying anything for a moment, simply trying to be present with someone who was clearly hurting.

Presently, our food arrived, and with it also came Holcomb. “Ms. Baker.” He made my name sound almost like an accusation. “How is the investigation coming along?”

My instincts were to be cagey, and I make a habit of trusting my instincts. “Oh, you know, just trying to get the lay of the land. I’ve spoken with a few people. Trying to get a sense of who the Baron was, where he spent his time, that sort of thing. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything substantial.”

Holcomb smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Very good, Ms. Baker. See that you do.” He gave me a slight nod. “Good day Ms. Baker. And to you, Cara.” He gave a another nod of his head to Cara and turned to leave.

As he left, Cara called after him around a mouthful of sandwich. “Good bye, Uncle Roger.”

I nearly dropped my sandwich. Holcomb was Cara’s uncle? I wondered why no one had told me that. “So Holcomb… is your uncle? The uncle that may have gotten you a job on the train?”

Cara nodded. “He’s as up tight as they come, but he’s family, and he’s always been good to me.”

I thought for a moment as I took some bites of sandwich (a very fine club sandwich, incidentally, and I was glad that I enjoyed them in this world too). We ate in silence for a time. I finished my sandwich and stood to leave. I paused and thought briefly. “Cara, would you accompany me to Ryme’s office?”

She was surprised but agreed to come. We made our way to Ryme’s office. Ryme was in much the same position as she was when I was here before. She didn’t bother to look up as we entered. “Hello again, Ms. Baker. Hello, Cara. How can I help?”

I smiled. “How shall I find Holcomb? I have some information I think I should share with him.”

She may have been about to object, but she did not. “I’ll call him right now.” She pressed a button on the side of the desk. “It shouldn’t be long.”

It wasn’t all that long, but it was long enough for me and Cara to begin to feel awkward standing in Ryme’s office. Eventually, Holcomb entered, and was somewhat surprised to see me, perhaps even annoyed.

“Holcomb! Thanks for coming!” I wanted control of the room, so I spoke quickly and decisively. “I’m glad you could be here. I have a few things to clear up.” I turned to Cara. “Were you, in fact, having an affair with the Baron?”

Cara’s cheeks turned bright red, but she said nothing.

Holcomb became visibly angry and started to say something, but I held my hand up for silence. This was, right now, my meeting, and I wasn’t interested in letting Holcomb run it off the rails. “You know, Holcomb, it doesn’t actually matter whether she was having an affair or not. It only matters whether people thought she was having an affair with him. I’m certain they were close. An older man with power having a close relationship with a young beautiful woman? Well, people will think what they will think, yes?” I paused. “What do you think? Would an overprotective friend or family member have taken exception to their relationship?”

No one said anything. The silence hung palpably in the room.

I looked at each face in turn. The truth was written plainly on Holcomb’s face, and the slow dawning realization on the other two faces.

The four of us knew. We also knew it would likely never be proven. There were no witnesses and the murder weapon was long gone. But the four of us knew.

The look Cara gave Holcomb would have broken the hardest of hearts. “How could you? He was my friend. When no one else was, he was my friend.”

Cara looked sad, Ryme looked furious, and Holcomb looked ashamed. And that’s how I left them. I headed back to my temporary room, exhausted. It had been a hell of a day. I sat down and closed my eyes.

********************************************************************

I awoke in my chair. It was evening, and there was an empty glass next to me. I was back in the body I had known for years. It felt odd, but I thought I was get used to it quickly.

I wasn’t sure what had happened, but that wasn’t a dream. I’ve had dreams, and they aren’t like that. I wondered if I would ever return to the train and the world it existed in. I hoped I would.