The Forever Train

The Forever Train will continue on, for this is how it has always been and always will be.

People come and go on the Forever Train at all times, from all times. From all places, existing or imaginary, good or evil, reimagined or rediscovered from the original states they once existed or did not exist in.

A medieval princess gracefully casts her eyes over the seats, her intricate dress displaying her wealth trailing across the floor, and she is trying not to be shaken by this large and mysterious metal carriage or its passengers. She has seen only servants and tutors and fancy castles and believed nothing was as strange or horrible as this.

A young creature with no discernible head peeks over a seat to gawk at the new things it has never seen before and likely will never see again. It has experienced nothing but consistency, or in this case, the brutality that is conformation.

A businessman from the early 1900s sits with concealed impatience, briefcase set on his lap, brow furrowed. He glances at the other individuals around him and notices, for he has noticed nothing but the laborious work he is dedicated to.

A beautiful android polished to excellence and dressed in the best clothes of the 47th century acts aloof, perfectly sculpted nose in the air, while sneaking looks at anyone who passes her. She has never witnessed anything besides perfection and the lie that it is.

The ticket takers only walk the aisleways, barking for tickets or requesting them in a soft voice. The journey is hard. The ticket takers know this, and some don't care.

Passengers will come when requested, and leave when they know they must. Everyone rides and everyone departs. The Forever Train will continue on, and when the fuel is gone, the wheels are rusted, the seats are worn and the tracks are broken, it will continue, for this is how it always has been and always will be.