“I’m happy for you, Q. I really am.”
“Don’t you think you could learn to be happy here too?” Q said.
“It’s not a question of being happy here. I mean, who wouldn’t be? It’s like the most amazing dream.” Raya clutched her bag. “But it’s not a dream that’s meant for me.”
“Do you really believe that?” Q held her gaze.
Raya stared back without flinching. “You think I’m lying?”
“I think sometimes, we hide things so deep that we forget they’re there.”
“What are the dining options on the Elsewhere Express?”
Frequently Asked Questions
The Elsewhere Express
Passenger Handbook
Lily
Lily weaved through a small forest with a black umbrella hooked over her arm. A thick carpet of dry pine needles crunched beneath the soles of her polished, lace-up boots. She stopped at the foot of the tallest tree in the grove and pulled off a freshly laundered white glove. She sucked in a breath, stuck two fingers in the corners of her mouth, and whistled. A silver rope dropped inches from her nose, dangling from a branch that was too high up for her to see. She tugged it twice, took a step back, and opened her umbrella. Gold ink twisted into intersecting and infinite loops over the umbrella’s panels. The tree shook and sent a shower of pine cones bouncing off the umbrella and onto the ground. When the last of the cones ricocheted to a neighboring pine, Lily leaned the umbrella against the tree’s trunk and secured the brim of her gold-banded cap firmly over her forehead. A branch rustled, scooped her up, and handed her off to the branch above it.
Lily bobbed from branch to branch, holding on to the worn leather satchel slung across her chest. The Leaf Lift was her favorite among the previous conductor’s inventions. Before he had come upwith it, passengers who used this doorway needed to climb. Lily recalled how Rasmus’s pale blond eyebrows nearly flew off his face when she suggested that, for greater convenience, the pinewood birdhouse containing the Dragonfly dining car be set on the ground. He promptly sat her down for an hour-long lecture on why rearranging cars was not the best idea on a train that never stopped.
A branch deposited Lily next to a little city of birdhouses complete with a post office and a school. The one Lily was looking for had a little sign on its red roof.
The Dragonfly
Open all day.
Lily peeked inside the birdhouse. A hanging bridge spanning two limestone cliffs greeted her. Lily stepped onto it.
The bridge, if a silky path spun from silver cobwebs could be called such, swayed in the wind. The swarm of golden dragonflies that held it up by tiny bejeweled harnesses did their best to keep it steady. Buzzing filled Lily’s ears. She closed her eyes, distilling the sound.
I hate my job.
The rent’s due.
I’ll never forgive her.
He’s cheating. I’m sure of it.
God, I need to pee.
The chatter never varied, regardless of where the thoughts that made up the bridge came from. The Hong Kong MTR. The London Underground. The Manila LRT. The worries buzzing inside people’s skulls were more similar than they were different. Building a bridge out of these concerns and grudges, Lily thought, was a stroke of engineering genius. Stubborn thoughts were a thousand times stronger than carbon steel.
A small group of passengers inched their way down the bridge, their gaze locked on the mountain cavern waiting on the other end. From the way they gripped the bridge’s gossamer railing, Lily could tell that they had not paid attention during the orientation or reviewed the train’s handbook. Longtime passengers knew that the fastest way to cross a bridge made of anxieties and resentments wasto let go of it. Lily strode past the new passengers, her hands clasped behind her back, her eyes in front of her. This was not a bridge you wanted to linger on.
Lily stepped off the bridge and walked into the large limestone cave that housed the Dragonfly’s dining area. She greeted diners with a perfunctory nod, avoiding as many as she could. After what had just happened on the deck, she was not in the mood for pleasantries. The savory promise of lemongrass, ginger, garlic, coconut, chilies, and kaffir lime drifting through the cave from the buffet stations and open kitchen, however, made it difficult not to smile.
There was no question in Lily’s mind that the Elsewhere Express’s menu was its crowning achievement. The train’s chefs were exceptionally creative, transforming the most ordinary thoughts into culinary masterpieces. From behind the glass window of the restaurant’s kitchen, diners could watch them pull and stretch the mental grocery lists people made on their morning commute into fresh egg noodles and turn the most persistent intrusive thoughts into a spicy beef tendon stew. No thought that boarded the train ever went to waste.
Lily’s smile grew wider at the sight of a song fluttering behind one of the maintenance crew’s electricians. She tipped her cap at the electrician as the tall woman made her way to the dining car’s kitchen, reserving a proper grin for the glowing song. The song circled back, grazing the tip of Lily’s nose to say hello. Lily let out a small laugh despite the storm howling in her mind. The song’s wings were thinner than paper, but they were strong enough to lift the corners of her lips into a wide smile. Lily could tell from its bright lyrics that it was meant to repair one of the Dragonfly’s light bulbs. The song flew after the electrician, disappearing behind a broad-shouldered sous chef. The smile on Lily’s face vanished with it, the storm growing louder in her head.
Lily filled a cup with oolong tea at the drinks station and chose a spot tucked away in a quiet corner of the cave. She set her tea down on a carved rosewood table more suited for an emperor’s palace than a dining car. She settled into an equally ornate chair and warmed her hands around the steaming tea, keenly aware that thesmall cup contained the last moments of peace she was going to enjoy for a while. She lifted it to her lips and sipped it slowly.
Raya
