“Is that still what you want?” Q picked up a sphere. “To go home?”
“Don’t you?”
Glowing specks swirled inside the sphere like glitter in a snow globe and made shadows dance over Q’s face. “When I was a boy, there was nothing I wanted more than for this place to be real.”
“And now?”
“My head is bursting trying to understand how this place actually exists.” He clutched the sphere tighter. “And how I can make sure that I never leave it.”
Dev jogged back to the shore with a red toolbox. “Which song do you want to open?” He set the toolbox on the sand.
Q looked at Raya. “Why don’t you pick?”
Raya surveyed the shore. The spheres were identical, but some exerted a greater pull on her. A sphere by the edge of the water drew her its way. She resisted the urge to sprint. She walked over to the sphere, unsure if it had selected her or if she had chosen it. She picked it up and made her way back to the group. The sphere’s light seeped into her skin, finding and filling the spaces music used to live.
“Interesting choice.” Dev held his hand out.
Raya’s will wrestled with her fingers, refusing to let the sphere go.
Dev plucked it from her palm, taking its soothing heat with it. “Come on, kids.” He sat down next to his toolbox. “Gather round.”
Raya folded her legs beneath her. She pressed her bag against the chill in her chest. Q sat next to her, close enough to lend her some of his warmth.
Dev shook the sphere and brought it to his ear. “I think we’ll need a number eight and eleven to crack this open.” He set the sphere in the middle of the group and opened the toolbox.
“Do all thoughts board the Elsewhere Express this way?” Raya said, arranging words into a sentence she would have never uttered before this night.
“Just the songs.” Dev rummaged through an assortment of silver tools. “Thoughts board the train through different cars depending on what kind they are. There’s a sink in the back room of the Lotus, for example, that grudges and worries gurgle up from, and a beehive in the back of the bakery car that memories of first kisses drip out of. I have yet to find anything better to sweeten my tea.” He pulled out a silver hammer and chisel and looked up at Raya and Q. “Care to give it a try?”
Raya raised her hand. “I’ll do it.”
Dev handed her the tools. “Just position the chisel over the sphere and give it a good whack.”
Raya gripped the tools, surprised by how well they fit in the curves and shallows of her hand. The last thing that had felt as comfortable against her skin was her old guitar. And Q’s hand, if she counted how he had found her in the darkness of a kettle. She positioned the chisel over the sphere. “How’s this?”
Dev gave her a thumbs-up.
Raya raised the hammer, turning her head away to avoid shards. She brought the hammer down, striking the chisel squarely on the handle. The sphere rippled like a soap bubble and quietly popped. A luminous, rainbow-colored butterfly flew out, strewing notes in the air with every flap of its wings. Raya gaped at it, the tools slipping from her fingers.
“Lovely song,” Dev said. “You have a knack for this.”
Raya clamped her lips to keep a smile from spreading. It had been a long time since music had made her feel good. She couldn’t let it happen again.
The winged song flew by Q’s ear, trailing a story about winter giving way to spring. “It’s beautiful.”
“And quite fragile compared to other thoughts that board the train. Grudges are especially tough.” Dev lifted his hand. The song landed on his index finger. “That’s why songs are encased in spheres when they board. To keep them safe.” He examined the melody’s wings. “Some songs are more resilient than others. I throw the flimsier ones back and only pick the ones I know will last. I would hate to have to constantly replace them.”
“Replace them?” Raya said.
“A train on an endless journey goes through a lot of wear and tear. We use specific songs to repair particular parts of the train. Sad songs are perfect for fixing leaks because sadness starts out soft, sticks to things, and hardens over time. If the train had mice, I imagine that such songs would also make excellent traps. Anyway, the train’s plumbers need to be careful about not getting them into the pipes. No one likes bitter water.” Dev brought the song close to his lips and whispered. It glowed bright and took flight.
“You’re just letting it go?” Raya’s throat squeezed her voice.
“Don’t worry.” Dev smiled. “It won’t get lost. It knows what it needs to do. You won’t find a clearer map than purpose.”
The song landed on a palm tree’s withered leaf. Its light intensified, growing brighter until it engulfed the whole palm. When it dimmed, a rainbow-colored frond took the dead leaf’s place. The frond’s colors shifted between different shades of green before settling into the most vibrant one.
“I’ve been meaning to fix that leaf.” Dev snapped a photo of the palm. “You chose the perfect song for it. Songs may shed their wings and change their appearance depending on the train part they repair, but no matter what they look like, their essence doesn’t change. The more hopeful the song, the healthier the leaf. The more tragic the song, the harder the seal. There isn’t a part of the Elsewhere Express that a song hasn’t touched up or repaired.”
