Previously: Part 1
As soon as his back foot crossed the threshold, Robert realized that he no longer was on a train at all. Jarred by the sudden change in surroundings, he stumbled forward and caught his weight on his palms. His elbows locked to keep from smacking his face or head on what he now could see was light green laminate. This new sight looked so familiar to him, despite his general confusion. He pushed himself to his knees to get a clearer sense of where he was.
The first thing he saw were rows of metal chairs with hard plastic seats and backs, boards an inch thick serving as desks curling around from the right of each. Beyond these were large windows or bulletin boards framed by crinkled cardboard, depending on which wall he looked at. The desks faced whiteboards several feet high that ran the length of the wall.
After taking in the general environment, Robert fixated on three specific details. First, he now saw that the desks’ occupants were mannequins, featureless in the face, yet each decked in the student fashions of the day that he could remember. Second, a large fixture hung at the front of the room featuring two lights, each the size of dinner plates, which flashed from green to orange, and back again.
But the strangest detail of all to Robert was the teacher. Like the students, it was not human, but unlike the students, it was a bulky round metal figure, atop which sat a smaller box with lights and bolts arranged as a face. Extended cyclical arms protruded from its barrel body, one of which held a long thin rod that it used to point to whichever light was presently illuminated.
“The light is green,” it said as the green light appeared.
“The light is orange,” it said as it switched to orange.
Robert staggered to his feet and backed toward the door. As if noticing his presence for the first time, the robot’s makeshift countenance looked directly at him.
“I hate sophomores now,” it said.
Robert’s hand found the knob. Without looking, he turned it and hurried away. Behind him, he heard, “The light is green…”
He expected to end up back in the train, but instead his feet hit some sort of soft material that sank under his weight. He looked down to discover that he was now standing on sawdust. The classroom, the mannequin students, and the robotic teacher had all been replaced by the insides of a vast tent. Along the perimeter were empty metal bleachers, and in the middle were three rings, the center of each containing a thick wooden pole jutting into the heavens, helping to hold the tent in place. Somewhere unseen, a calliope played a familiar tune.
“My name is Beanie, I should be queen.”
Robert looked around for the source of this strange statement. There was no one sitting in the bleachers, and no one was standing in the rings. He noticed movement above him, and his eyes followed it.
High above, a woman balanced on a wire. She was dressed in a pink corset and tutu trimmed with gold. Her face was powder white with bright red circles on her cheeks and a pursed dab of lipstick to match. On her head was a tiara, and she was holding a pink and white parasol.
She took a few steps forward on the wire. “Queen Beanie, that should be my name. But alas, you can see that I have no subjects.”
With a slight jump, she now faced the other direction. For the first time, Robert noticed that there was no net beneath her.
“And you, citizen, what is your name?”
Robert looked around.
“You. Your name, if you please.”
Robert looked back up at her. “Uh…Robert.”
Beanie turned and gave her parasol a twirl. “Welcome, Robert. Where do you come from?”
“The train, I guess?”
“You sound unsure, Robert.”
“Well, I was at the train station, and then I was in a classroom, and now I’m here.”
“Is your place the train station or the classroom?”
“I don’t…I mean, I guess it’s the classroom.”
“Did you enjoy the classroom, Robert?”
“The one I was just in? Not really.”
“Do you enjoy any classroom?”
Robert shrugged. “I’m going to be a teacher, so yes.”
“You’d be a horrible teacher.” Beanie hopped again and found her footing with ease.
“Excuse me?”
“You’d be a horrible teacher. You would tell a kindergartner, ‘You have no future, little one.’”
Robert was offended. “No, I wouldn’t! I don’t even want to teach kindergartners!”
“Who do you want to teach?”
“High school!”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do! I have a job lined up in Traverse City.”
“No.”
“Like you know anything about me, anyway.”
Beanie stepped off the wire and Robert gasped. But she fluttered rather than fell, her parasol seeming to aid her gentle descent. Her feet padded to the ground, and they were now face to face.
“You are unfit for what you seek, Robert. Be gone.”
“I don’t know where–”
“BE. GONE.”
Robert anxiously looked for a way out and saw an opening to the tent between the bleachers. He walked as fast as he could without running.
“Do you know where you’re going?” she called right before he passed through.
Robert was now in a bare hallway. The walls were painted a dull blue, and can lights dotted the ceiling overhead. He spotted two swinging doors at the other end, the light from a round window on each presenting as a pair of eyes. He stepped toward them cautiously, wondering whether this would finally be the way out of this strange place.
Part of the hall gave way to a small alcove to the right, where two women sat at a bistro table. As Robert passed and took in the small scene more completely, he realized that it was actually a single body with two heads, taking turns drinking from a teacup.
“I was supposed to drive a motorized vehicle into a body of water,” one said to the other.
“That’s the bad part,” the second head replied. “She drowns.”
“Yeah, but she came back.” The first head sipped.
This inspired Robert to pick up his pace. He pushed the doors open, and was now standing in a diner. The floors were checkered black and white; a long silver counter lined one side while booths with puffy red upholstery made up the other. A jukebox played classics from the 1950s in the corner.
A waitress wearing a candy-striped dress under a white apron approached. “Sit wherever, hon. Be right with you.”
Robert crept forward. The silver trappings of the counter and behind it gave a mirror-like quality, causing the red of the booths and stools to pop out in contrast. He slid onto a stool, and the waitress appeared behind the counter, watching him.
“What’ll you have?”
Robert swallowed. “Um…what are my choices?”
Rolling her eyes, the waitress slapped a menu on the counter. “I’ll be back.”
Robert looked down at the laminated sheet and frowned. He’d expected to find options for drinks and food, but instead it featured headings like “Life Partners,” “Careers,” and “Places to Live.” What was even more strange to him was that he recognized all the particulars that were listed under each one: they were all people he knew, jobs that he’d considered, and places he’d thought about moving to.
The waitress returned. “So. Do you know what you really want yet?”
A figure slumped onto the stool next to him. The waitress greeted him. “Hey hon, how are you today?”
“Sober,” the new customer replied with a voice that sounded very familiar.
“Well, we can fix that if you like,” quipped the waitress.
“Yeah, probably,” the man said. “Rejected. Again.”
She produced a coffee cup but poured whiskey into it. “You need to stop dating the friend group.”
The man took a swig. “I’m trying to stay far away from that.”
The waitress returned the bottle to its unknown location before glaring at Robert. “Sounds like you need to try harder.”
She strolled away again as it dawned on Robert who he might be sitting next to. He turned his head cautiously, hoping that he was wrong.
His companion was already looking at him. His face was painted in full clown makeup: cherry red lips, pink cheeks, and blue diamonds around the eyes over a white foundation. But underneath the painted mask, Robert easily made out that the face looking at him was his own.
Robert nearly fell backward off the stool but regained his footing. He spotted the front diner entrance and shoved it open.
He was in another classroom, very similar to the one before, although this one had no mannequins or robots. The bulletin boards were decorated with the Periodic Table and posters of various bodily systems.
In the corner hung a life-size skeleton. It was waving at him.
“Is the back of my knee supposed to hurt?” it asked.
The lower portion of its left leg dropped to the floor.
“I am most definitely injured in multiple spots.”
A heart began glowing within its ribcage.
“So are you.”
Robert could feel the eyeless sockets of the skull boring into him.
It raised an arm and pointed a bony finger at him. “Do you know where you’re going?”
Robert shook his head in resignation. “No. No, I don’t.”
“Okay.” Its bare teeth seemed to smile. “Now you can begin.”
Outside the classroom, Robert heard the brakes of a train. He turned toward the door and regarded it with suspicion. He looked back at the skeleton, now hanging dormant. Bracing himself for the next encounter, he reached for the doorknob, pulled it open, and walked through.
He was in a terminal, the bustle of people jarring to his senses. He looked back at the car, which was filling up with people who did not seem to be disappearing into a school or circus. He moved out of the way to give boarding passengers more room and reached into his pocket. He again considered the card with the gold circle. He sensed someone watching him and looked up. The bearded man in the fedora was leaning against a pillar. He nodded to Robert before slipping into one of the train cars.
Robert’s phone buzzed. He checked the screen and found that Kat was calling him. He looked at the name, then at the card. With a deep breath, he denied the call, took one final look at the train, and headed for the stairs.
