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On a Rail Story by Raziel

Train tracks lay silent in a canyon, the well-polished tops of the rails revealing that the line was still in use despite the barren and abandoned surroundings. A further hint to its repurposed nature could be gleaned from the presence of a third rail perfectly in the middle, the warning-colour paint flaking but still present. It lay there like a silver thread weaving through a wasteland of mountains. Some of the mountains it circled around, others were completely avoided, a number had been blasted through and in very rare cases the train-tracks snaked themselves up the flank of one, swaying back and forth along it until it disappeared over the rim. Relics from days gone by still dotted these mountains; preserved by the dry environment. Old timbers still stood at abandoned mine-entrances, preserved by the dryness of the environment. Smaller tracks for mine-carts had deteriorated with years or even centuries of disuse. Shafts were abandoned in darkness, with only intermittent sounds of bats or other small animals that had claimed it as their abode. The air was sometimes pierced with the loud screech of a bird of prey; the many naturally eroded spires offering them a multitude of aeries. Broad-winged shadows darted along the ground as their owner hunted for food in the form of the rodents and small mammals that were in turn scrabbling for sustenance among the remains of abandoned mining enterprises. Beyond the mountains was a desert, and the switch from one environ to the other was staggering; a mountain-range on one side, and an apparently endless sea of sand on the other like something had drawn a line and deemed that the mountains would reach to that border, and no further. The train tracks blithely ignored this apparent decree, crossing the line and continuing on into the wastes until it disappeared on the horizon. In the desert, silence ruled even moreso than it did in the mountains - especially during the unforgiving glare of the sun at noon. Time passed and the sun ran its course of the sky, lengthening the shadows and smothering canyons in an increasing gloom.

As the sun neared the horizon, a very slight sound rang out across the sands; a peculiar resonance that seemed to act as a herald. On the horizon, as if appearing from the same place where the sun was heading to set, something glinted silver and grew steadily larger. The resonance became increasingly loud until it became a visible tremor of the rails. There was barely any further sound, right up until the moment the cause arrived and roared past in a displacement of air. A silver bullet sped across the rails, heading into the direction of the mountains. Every surface of the train still gleamed as if it had just rolled out of the factory and was on its maiden voyage. This wasn't an iron horse of old that puffed and wheezed as the coal-fired steam-engine pulled it along. While this beast originated from the same technological branch, this vehicle was so far along its evolution that the differences outnumbered the similarities. The engine sound could only be described as a steady hum that intensified or lowered as the virtual throttle was opened or closed via touch-screen. Instead of the crude but effective force of pushing and thrusting pistons, the wheels were turned by the gentle but constant push of magnetic force. Instead of coal having to be manually shovelled into a furnace, the power required was sent through the third rail; a small arc occasionally flashing when it switched to a new section. The machinists' cabin looked more like the cockpit of an airplane instead of anything ground-bound. Speed-indicators, electricity levels and amount of power used were all clearly indicated down to the decimal. If any of the values went too high or too low, indicators would blink on the screen and demand attention instead of the danger of hot steam hissing and the boiler straining when the pressure became too much. The entire structure had been built with aerodynamics in mind and the innards made to fit it, ensuring that the train could cleave through the air with a minimum of resistance. And yet, despite all these differences, one could still hear the ka-clang that is so unified with trains.

The hum changed as a finger slid down the virtual throttle on a screen, the train slowing down smoothly for its approach of the familiar mountain range. The machinist, an ageing beaver with grey hairs streaking the fur around his eyes, had travelled this line many times before, as did his father before and his grandfather before him. The stories of old always entertained him, and told him to trust on his gut as much as the rules. His hand rested on the screens that served as instrument panels with a sense of familiarity. He knew her well, and knew what she was capable of. A cursory glance of the digital speedometer and another quick flick of the finger changed the speed to steadily approach the desired value.

Outside, the train rushed at a bend; it looked like it was going too fast, the ka-clang barely changing and the rails still resonating fiercely. It got closer, the bend looking tighter as it came closer and the train heavier and heavier despite its sleek design. And then it truly hit the bend. There was no screech of metal and a thunderous crash. The train was constructed to lean into the turn gracefully, allowing it to take the bends at much higher speeds than a normal train would have been able.

Inside the train, separated by a shell of lightweight but extremely strong material, silence mostly ruled the passageway. The hum of the train magnetically powering the wheels was still there, but only faint - echoing through the walls themselves. The banking turn only had a little effect on those inside the train, requiring only a small step to steady oneself or a moment where the surface of a cold drink could be seen to tilt with gravity. The windows were squares of black now that the sun had vanished behind the horizon; whatever was behind them hidden by the light and reflections on the inside of the cabins. Cabins that were dark themselves allowed sight of the surrounding mountains and crags, flashing by in vague blurs as the train dodged and weaved on its set path around them. The shifting and banking worked like a charm to those trying to sleep; rocking them gently with the murmur of the electric drive...but the ka-clang could still be heard in the background like a pervasive memory. Further along the train, other sounds could be heard. It had a deep bass to it that became clearer as the distance to the doors separating the compartments lessened. When the doors opened it became clear what the source of the sound was.

Bright, multi-coloured lights flashed through the open square where the door had been; having slid open near soundlessly at the slightest touch of the handle. Someone stepped out, and staggered against the wall when the train banked slightly for another bend; though the stumble was more caused by inebriation than by the twist. "I gotta go sleep it off, see you later, fellas! Had a blast!" The black-furred wolf yelled back into the party. His voice was drowned out, but he could see his friends waving back at him with smiles on their muzzles, so at the very least they were aware of his goodbyes. On a raised platform, purpose-built for use in a train, a DJ worked his magic. His turntable perfectly isolated by the platform's springs and dampers from whatever thump or jerk that could potentially interfere with his flow. Records were cross-faded and replaced expertly so that the people on the dance floor weren't even aware of the changeover until they recognised the song that played and wonder where the previous one went before the music took hold of them again. The ka-clang shouldn't be audible here, but still it was there, in the background, mingling with the beat on some level. The dance floor was packed at this late hour, and the patrons whooped at every twist and turn that they felt tugging at them gently, influencing their dance with a sway and swagger. At the small bar, people made small talk; or rather tried as they yelled over the music, guaranteeing at least several hoarse throats for the day to come. A male skunk was sitting quietly on one corner of the bar, not truly interacting with anyone but clearly content with simply playing a passive observer to the hustle of the disco carriage. The female fox tending the bar, buxom and bright-red furred, let alcohol flow freely as long as patrons continued to pay. As they became looser, so did their grip on their wallet. One drink became a few, then a few more while flirting with the barmaid, 'a round for my buddies here' and so on. Nobody had anywhere to go the day after anyway. Or rather, everyone had but they'd get there through no active effort of their own.

On the dance floor itself, people danced close; they had to. The dance floor had been made as big as possible, but it was still a train car; it was sandwiched between the bar area, the DJ's booth and another small seating area towards the other side. People didn't care and paid little attention to anyone except the small circle of friends or acquaintances they'd brought with. Some even had eyes for new people they had met, but at this late point of the night, any connections that would be made had been already. A couple danced together in the push of bodies, yet oddly apart from it all. Nobody paid attention to them; they travelled by themselves, with no affiliation to any of the other cliques on board. They were fine with it. They both were the same species and had similar builds; the well-known stocky build of donkeys. Their ears were upright as they danced to the beat, letting the sounds carry them. They felt the bass in their bellies as it came up through the floor even as their hooves clicked on the flooring of the car. He slowly slid around her, grasping her tightly from behind and whispered into her ear; she barely heard him with ears dulled from the constant sonic assault of the music, but she shivered when she felt his warm breath on her ear. His hands rubbed over her belly and trailed upwards, for a moment lifting the red shirt she was wearing up to above her navel. She knew what he'd been saying without hearing it, and giggled. Her partner could feel the resonance of the giggle through her body, making her shiver against him. He felt her reach her hand back, toying with his ears and making them flex and twitch before rubbing him through the coarse, black hair of his mane. The feeling of her small, solid finger-hooves on his scalp made him shiver in turn. The music deepened as the DJ worked another smooth changeover, making the music seem warmer that it was before. His hands still moved on her body and enticed by the music, she pushed her hips back, grinding against him as her tail flicked between them, the brushy tip occasionally rubbing his side. Hands moved and explored a body they already intimately knew. The lights seemed to dim, the flashes becoming less frequent and bright, lending the dance-floor a much different, more private feel. Emboldened by this, he slowly moved his hands down, rubbing them along her strong thighs, and up the miniskirts she'd worn for the occasion, he felt the tight, tickly fabric on his palms, followed by the elegant belt-buckle that held it up. His hands slid even further up as he felt her shiver in anticipation and enjoyment. She froze a moment when his hands deftly slid under her shirt, sliding up ever so slowly. Dancing with the beat, they slowly rubbed against each other as his hands continued to explore freely. He felt the lace of the bra she wore, including the small ribbons that were attached to it here and there. He backed away when she turned around with a smile, looking at him from behind her large eyelashes before winking. Then they kissed; the moment seemed to freeze and the music seemed to halt, as if they were in their own world in that moment, just for them...and the ka-clang resonating through their hooves from below the floor. He shivered in delight when she pulled his head down and her muzzle rubbed past his cheek, their fur hissing against each other, and then she whispered. He heard what she said and shivered again, along with a response from his loins.

An uncertain amount of time later, the dance floor was still crowded and the DJ had changed the record once again to something with more speed and oomph. A loud cheer went up from the patrons and none of them noticed the missing couple. Yet they were still present, sitting together in a stall, close to the exit yet hidden in darkness from a deftly disabled light. The base shook their bodies even as their lust did; they sat facing each other, her in his lap with her miniskirt hiked up. They let the music guide them as they vented their desire on each other, the heat fanned even more by the risk, the chance of discovery. Their hips moved and thrust on the beat of the music. Everything seemed as one at that moment, the movement of their bodies, the sound of the music, the sway of the train. Outside, the train snaked its way up the side of a mountain before dipping back down into a tunnel. The music slowed down on the way up while the hum of the engines deepened to get enough drive for the ascent. The couple was teetering at the tip of desire, grinding and rubbing together until they both released, muffling their loud moans by kissing deeply and then collapsing together with a sigh. Then the music sped up again as the hum slowed, signifying the start of the descent after reaching the top. The couple collapsed into each other's arms, her snuggling on his chest and him resting his chin on her head. Both wore the same, fulfilled grin. They'd have another day before arrival, still plenty of time to enjoy each other. All throughout the night, even after the DJ had played his last record, the barmaid served her last drink, the last patrons staggered to their cabins and the machinist changing shift, there was one constant to it all; the fain ka-clang of the wheels touching the rails.