“How about passengers?” Raya stole a glance at Q’s bruised elbow. “Can songs fix people too?”
“Some love songs can,” Dev said, “but they can only work on simple things like cuts and bumps. The train has a healer made from new beginnings for more serious injuries. Not that anyone ever getsreally hurt on the Elsewhere Express.” He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small linen pouch.
“What’s that?” Q asked.
Dev opened the pouch and poured a little mound of tiny black seeds over his palm. “The train’s emergency services number.”
“Sorry?” Q said.
“They’re lavender seeds. They’re made from calm thoughts, the ones that pass through your mind right before you nod off on your commute. Love songs are drawn to their scent. Lavender is like catnip for them. It reminds them of the quiet they were born in. Plant it and a song or two will be on its way to patch you right up.” Dev poured the seeds back into the pouch and returned the pouch to his pocket. “It’s the nature of songs to soothe.”
A sphere glimmered in the corner of Raya’s eye. She picked it up. “May I open this one?”
“Be my guest.” Dev eyed the song. “The tools you used earlier should be able to open it.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Q glanced at the knot on Raya’s hand.
“I’ll be quick.” Raya gave the sphere a swift whack. A song burst from the sphere.
The melody, a song about fated love, fluttered by Q’s injured arm, stirring the air like the breath before a kiss. It landed on his elbow, grew bright, and vanished along with his bruise. Q gasped. “How did you know the song could do that?”
“I…I’m not sure.” Raya stared at his unmarked skin. “I just did.”
“Well done.” Dev trained the camera on Raya and took her picture. “I hope that you’ll seriously consider joining the maintenance crew. I think you’ll be great at this kind of work.”
Q looked at Raya as though seeing her for the first time. “I think so too.”
“What’s it like, Dev?” Raya said.
“For starters”—Dev rubbed his jaw—“no two days are alike. I never know what songs will wash up. And the rest of the crew’s a fun bunch. I’m sure you’ll—”
“Sorry.” Raya shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. I’d like to know what it feels like to erase your old life. Do you have any regrets about leaving it behind?”
Dev laughed. “Why would I have any regrets?”
“You don’t miss anything? Your family? Friends?”
“You can’t miss what you don’t remember. Besides, if our old lives were worth missing, then we wouldn’t have drifted away from them, would we?”
“But what makes the Elsewhere Express different from the world we came from?” Raya squeezed a fistful of sand. “Why would someone be able to find their purpose here when they failed to find it before boarding?”
“It’s simple.” Dev shrugged. “The world outside the train likes to think of purpose as though it were this mystical, sacred thing. Here, things couldn’t be more straightforward. A passenger’s purpose is to keep the Elsewhere Express running. That’s it. No mystery. No ambiguity. No uncertainty. If we don’t play our part, the train falls into disrepair, grinds to a halt, and everyone on board perishes.”
“I…see.” Raya released the sand.
“But how do we find what we’re supposed to do here?” Q said.
“The same way you painted a star and Raya found the right songs to fix that palm and your arm,” Dev said. “There are no magical quests or monsters to slay on the Elsewhere Express. The only thing standing between you and your purpose is your own thoughts. You will either master them and shape them into whatever you need them to be, or they will master you.”
Two chimes rang through the beach. A loudspeaker crackled to life.
“Good evening, passengers. We would like to request Mr. Philips Jr. and Ms. Sia to proceed to the Dragonfly dining car. The conductor will meet you there. Thank you.”
“What is the fastest way to get to the Dragonfly?”
Frequently Asked Questions
The Elsewhere Express
