Dreaming up a door out of thin air was easy. A bit too easy. But Tulip wasn't worried. She knew there was absolutely no reason to worry anymore.
The girl was instead quite irritated. Annoyed at herself.
Annoyed because she never once even bothered to take so much as a single peek out into the red wasteland while traversing between cars.
It was such a shame. Because the infinite length of the red desert wasteland spreading beyond the horizon was a painting screaming of tragic beauty. The red sand crying down the long mountain ranges that crawled along in the distance, red sand flying under a light from a star Tulip was sure had never actually gone down beyond the horizon before. The wasteland was empty, but it was not lonely, despite what the countless lone dead trees growing sporadically all over the place seemed to suggest. The empty landscape felt full of potential, powerful untapped potential.
One of Tulip's regrets on this train was never stopping just a brief moment to enjoy this scenery until now. Or perhaps the reason she never stopped was because the train was moving so fast it was hard to make out any of the details in the distance. Yet for some strange reason it was not as difficult now as it was before, even at the ludicrous speed this monster of a machine was moving.
She tried calculating the speed once, she got to a rough estimate of around Mach 800000 before giving up entirely and just lumping the whole thing to light speed. She wasn't even sure if the train was creating any friction beneath the track.
Although now that she thought more about it, one of her previous selves did manage to calculate an exact number. She just forgot what it was, or she forgot where she put it. It was probably written down in a book, either by the Paranoid one or the Conductor Tulip. She wondered if she could find that book again.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Tulip turned to the voice by her side, and there Dream was standing, his cape flowing in the violent wind as the train kept on forward.
"Sure is," Tulip replied, "I just wish this thing would slow down. I can hardly see a thing. And the sand – it hurts my eyes."
Dream laughed:
"I can probably get you a pair of goggles like mine if you want."
"Heh… thanks, but no thanks. I'll be fine."
Tulip once again glanced up to where the star was, trying to see if it had moved an inch. It was hard to tell, the clouds were getting in the way. It was storming in the distance, clouds of rain carrying water over the mountains. Might not even be regular rain out here in this strange wasteland.
"Do you…" Tulip asked the Dream man, "do you think the train will make it?"
"Make it?"
"To the Infinite Beyond I mean."
Dream leaned back onto the door of his car. Continuing to smile:
"I've traveled through infinite realms, through infinite dreams. I've encountered monsters, space gods, cosmic horrors your human mind couldn't even process. I've met with a dream demon in a shape of a triangle. I've met space tyrants made of diamonds and stones. I've been to worlds where people carry monsters in their pockets, and worlds where superhero work is nothing but a job. I've been to literally everywhere, in Dream Land or not. And I must say… not even I have been this far outside of creation."
"Seriously?"
"Yup."
"So what will you do now… after all this is over? Go back to everything inside creation?"
Dream shrugged:
"Don't know. We'll see. First I need to know how you'll deal with him."
"Uh huh… okay. Um… will I ever see you again?"
"Heh… in your dr…"
"Don't say it!" She snapped, but still managed to grin.
"Ha-ha… goodbye, Tulip."
Just like that.
Poof.
Nothing remained but the screeching sound of the train running on the track beneath and the sand blowing in the distance.
So this was it. The last car on the train. Tulip even tried to take a little peek to the front to make sure this was really the last one – nothing but the pilot of the train. She tried looking back to the other cars in the back as well, stretching infinitely beyond into the horizon, like a giant godly serpent.
The door to the front car looked just like every other door on the train. Simple and ordinary.
The girl thought back to everything she had been through up to this point. All the pain, misery, the mystery, the adventure, so awful and wonderful at the same time.
But as with all good things, it must come to an end sooner or later. This thing just took over a century to come to that end.
With her hand on the doorknob, bracing for the final challenge – Tulip swung the door wide open.
It was a dark room full mechanical machinery. There were screws and bolts scattered all around as if all the machines were being disassembled. There were even small black puddles of oil spilled on some of the corners of the room. It looked as if the oil was spilling from one of the big cylindrical glass tanks lined up against the wall on the side, of which there were six of them. The tanks were containing bright blue liquid, there were big shadowy figures lying dormant inside the liquid of each of the tank, but Tulip could not for the life of her make out what… or who those figures were.
Other than the bright liquid, the only other source of light in the room came from the wall of computer screens lighting up on the left side of the wall over afar. They resembled a wall of security monitoring computers. As a matter of fact, that was exactly what it looked like the more Tulip stared at the glowing screens. Some screens were nothing but static, some screens were broadcasting a strange cartoon Tulip never knew existed. There were even some news broadcasting on one of the smaller screens by the corner, and even talk shows – talk shows between aliens and aliens, humans and humans, and even humans and aliens.
But then some screens began to appear out of the static that gave Tulip an overwhelming sensation of familiarity.
A land full of dogs – little corgis, all running on green pastures.
A room of black and white, filled with strange chess pieces wandering about.
A desert full of geckos trying to get by in their small town buried in sand.
A treasure vault holding gold and riches too vast to count.
A kingdom underwater, broken, burning in chaos and tyranny.
A laboratory, housing broken robots and test tubes boiling of chemicals.
A cave, with old stories and images carved onto its stones.
A forest of frogs wielding blades and shields to fight off a hideous dragon.
A library, holding secrets and madness no mortal would wish to learn.
A hall of mirrors, holding stories and truths no mortal would wish to uncover.
A room full of doors, leading to every inch of the multiverse.
A theater of ghosts and phantoms, singing in the darkness.
Everything.
It was all here – on full display in these tiny glowing screens.
"Beautiful… isn't it?"
A voice echoed from behind the shadows, spinning Tulip's head around.
And thus from the flowers of the shadows he emerged. Still in his white uniform, just as he was back on that stage in the orchestra.
But there was something else about him that was different.
She still couldn't see his face no matter how hard she squinted her eyes.
But there was something else other than that, too – oil spilling out of his arms and legs, circuits and tiny electrical sparks lighting up the joints of his limbs. Every step he took came another sound of metal and rust clashing against one another. Every step he hobbled came another sound of blue fire burning the wires from within.
She wasn't sure if it was really him at first. He lacked… confidence and aura. He didn't stand tall, at least not above everybody else beneath him. But she knew it was him… somehow – deep down. She had met him before, she couldn't remember his face, but she knew it was him.
She glanced down at the number on her palm, sitting at 7, and glanced back at where the Conductor stood, limping on his barely functioning legs. She knew then this was truly the end of the line.
"Unbelievable," Tulip said. "And after all this time – and you're not even human."
"Well that's not entirely true…" his voice was rough, and clearly mechanical but sounded as if he was clinging on to the last breath he could muster from his dying lungs,"I was… at one point… not anymore… not since… a long time ago."
"Hmm…"
"You performed well," he said. "I would've joined you on the stage back there, conducting can get boring from time to time, but all I'm good at is the trumpet. I like to think that I'm good… I'd really like to…"
"Why aren't you very good?"
The Conductor snickered:
"I had a terrible teacher… she was a pain…"
Tulip felt offended out of nowhere, just as the number on her palm simultaneously scrolled down to number 6. She began putting two and two together.
"It takes one to know one," said Tulip. "If I was a pain in your neck then you need to get off my back."
"I was just jesting Tulip, just jesting. Ha… jesting, funny word eh? Haven't heard that since the 16th century. But you were good Tulip, real good. I'm sure you would've been able to teach me more if the um… opportunity arises. I tried to learn it by myself, but… can't teach an old dog old tricks I suppose."
"Don't give me that now. You could program anything you want into your body at any time."
The Conductor shook his head:
"That wouldn't be any fun… that would be… too cliché."
The Conductor collapsed onto the floor just as he finished his sentence. The loud thud on the metal surface was heavy, sounded as if he weighed over a ton. And that on this train was not farfetched, not one bit. Tulip was certain he could be even heavier if he were in better condition. But the metal plates and screws popping out of their frames made everything loose, so he sounded more like an empty soup can than an actual boulder the moment his face planted onto the floor.
Tulip was about to run by him to check and see if he was okay.
But she was stopped short by several mechanical tentacles falling all around the Conductor.
And there she heard that voice once more – broken, but still the same:
"Re… Re, re… turn… tur… t… t…t… t… to… your… se… se… seat…"
That same empty face popped out from behind the shadow where the Conductor emerged. But it had no glowing blue eyes. The fire was dead, thus the blank white face fell onto the floor, lifeless and cracked like an eggshell. The robot monster looked terrible, there were burn marks all over the rubber of the tentacles as much as the cracks on its face. There was even a mark of a fist printed right on the side of its right cheek. Tulip suspected that mark came from a certain reptilian sheriff on this train.
Before Tulip could even question where the monster came from, her thoughts were interrupted once more by another voice.
Deep down in her guts she had expected this, but for some odd reason she still managed to be surprised. Or rather perhaps it was more accurate to say she was willing to be surprised.
"Hello there… Miss Tulip."
The ball emerged from underneath the pile of mechanical tentacles, they rolled out and extended their four tiny legs as if they were not even hurt. He did not change one bit since Tulip last saw him.
Tulip shook her head and blinked her eyes over and over again to try letting all this sink in. But the more she shook the more her head hurt, and the headache from overthinking was painful enough. Trying to rationalize it, trying to come up with possible scenarios to explain what was going on, none of it was convincing enough.
"What – on – earth – is – going – on?" Asked Tulip.
The tiny spherical robot sighed:
"I suppose… it's time to introduce ourselves."
The tiny bot split into two halves.
"My name – is One. I am called Glad-One."
Said the first half in a cheerful tone.
"My name – is One. I am called Sad-One."
Said second half in a somber tone.
"And my name…"
The Conductor sat up, his voice sounded erratic, much more than before.
"… is Zero. I am called Mad-One."
The three then all said in unison:
"We are… I am the Conductor of this train."
Everything began shooting through Tulip's brain, all at once, paralyzing her thoughts and her heart with an inescapable electrical current. It was powerful, and confusing. The girl took one step back, shaking her head furiously and slapping her face over and over again. She glanced all around the room, trying to pick up any anomaly. But she wasn't even sure what she was supposed to be looking for, blinking rapidly did not change a single thing either. And yet for some strange reason, she felt a huge load lifted off her heart in the middle of all this confusion.
A weight lifted off just as the number on her palm dropped to 3.
"I… um… I…" the girl stuttered, "I… have so… many questions."
The Conductor nodded:
"Not what you expected, isn't it?"
"What did you think I was expecting?" Tulip asked.
"Well… I don't know, perhaps one final epic battle against me… like every other final epic battles where the hero fights against the big bad villain on every other adventure out there."
"I don't like that," Glad-One said, "it's no fun."
"I still don't understand what you're trying to tell me," said Tulip.
"I'm saying," Sad-One said, approaching the broken down Conductor, "that you came in here expecting a confrontation. You won't get one. Because it already happened. Now… we just have to deal with the aftermath."
"One-One, just stop," Tulip rubbed her forehead, trying to process what was going on before her.
Sad-One looked up to the girl. Now that he was up close, he seemed even smaller than the last time she saw him. Maybe it was just her imagination, or perhaps it was the effects of regaining her confidence and everything inside that was once lost.
"After everything we've been through…" she approached Sad-One. "Why?"
The half-bot did not answer, however. Instead, he crawled over to where the Conductor was sitting. Blue sparks began firing from one of his little legs like a blowtorch. Sad-One began working on the Conductor, torching the metal plates of his shin.
"The tentacle monster as you know – or the Steward," said Sad-One, "it wasn't easy you know… none of it was. Reprograming one of the broken prototypes with what little power I had. You have no idea what I had to go through."
The number on Tulip's palm shifted, now dropping to 2.
"We had to keep you safe you see, Miss Tulip," Glad-One said. "But that Steward was still just a prototype. It was not easy to control, but the immense power it possessed meant it was worth it."
"Was it?" Tulip turned to the other half, "You lied to me. For what? Some kind of sick game?"
"We didn't have a choice," Sad-One sighed, while still torching the metal of the Conductor. "I… um… I once thought I could explain everything in the universe as a bunch of ones and zeros. It was crucial for me… back then… to break everything down to its simplest components. Because I realized… that in order for me to accomplish this journey – this… adventure to the Infinite Beyond – I needed to make compromises. I needed to get rid of useless ideas, useless habits, useless… emotions."
"Zero… zero…" Tulip mumbled under her breath. Followed with her eyes shooting wide open, snapping her fingers, "Is that why I can't see your face?" Tulip asked the Conductor, "Zero is a representation of nothing. And you are nothing."
The Conductor wanted to laugh, but a violent cough burst out in its place.
The number on Tulip's palm shifted again, now dropping to 1. She could not believe she had made it this far, after all this time.
"The only three states of mind that were useful," Sad-One continued, "I soon discovered were happiness – sadness – and madness. Everything else was a burden, unnecessary."
"Why those three specifically?" Tulip asked.
"Because," Glad-One explained, "happiness is a reminder of our… I mean, of my goal. It is a motivator. It is what we strive for in life."
"Sadness is the opposite of that," said Sad-One. "They're two sides of the same coin. Different but ultimately necessary. Much like how… dream is the opposite of reality, sadness is the other side of gladness. One cannot exist without the other. One cannot be continuously happy for eternity without the sadness to explain what's so precious about the joy we feel. How can a man possibly measure or explain happiness if he has never understood sadness? How can a man possibly measure happiness without that frame of reference?"
"And madness?" Tulip asked.
"Madness…" Zero coughed, even more violently than before, "madness… is the opposite of sanity… two sides… of the same coin."
"Madness is not something so easy to control," Sad-One said. "Which was why the two of us, the Ones, were separated. It was… an undesirable outcome, but at the end of the day – these three states of mind was a necessity for this trip."
"I still don't understand," Tulip said. "What exactly… is it that you want? What do you get out of doing all of this?"
"It's quite simple, really," Zero explained. "I want… infinity."
"What?"
"Come on now," Zero grinned, "I'm not some kind of Machiavellian super villain. I don't have a deep complex, nuanced, or relatable motivation. Can't a man… can't a character want something as simple as infinity? Because let me tell you… infinity… is very… addicting. Once you get a taste – you'll never want to go back. I want the adventures, Tulip… I want stories… I want ideas…"
"But then I realized right there and then," Sad-One said. "How boring and one dimensional I have become. Ironic… isn't it? On my quest to find stories, to find adventures, I ended up losing everything that mattered to my character – I lost my humanity."
"So that's why…" said Tulip, "that's why I wanted to help you… to dream."
The number on Tulip's palm shuffled once more, and perhaps for one final time. Dropping down to a clear and round zero. Tulip half expected something big to occur, but for some reason the number kept on glowing, still stuck on her palm, not showing any sign of fading away.
Zero began shaking his head in a somber manner.
"In order to go on this trip," he explained, "I needed to surpass my mortality. I needed to be above age, above life, above death. I needed to live forever. Transferring my brain, my consciousness into a machine was easy. Getting rid of my other emotions was easy, getting rid of my dreams was easy. I… I once thought dreams were useless – but I was wrong. What I didn't… um… expect was how much I truly miss my dreams, or rather how I miss my ability to dream up stories, ideas. Heh… it truly is ironic."
Tulip quickly unzipped her backpack and took out the framed photo of the two boys once more. She glanced at it and back to Zero again to try to see if there were any similarity. She still could not see the Conductor's face.
"So this photo then," Tulip said, "it really does not have anything to do with you."
Zero laughed:
"I told you, Tulip. I'm not a complex… um… character, shall we call it, with a deep tragic backstory. It's the simplicity of my life that urged me to find the adventure and the stories. My life was very boring."
"So everything that has happened on this train," said Tulip, "every events, every person, every car, every setting, every single death were all to serve the purpose of… spicing up a story?"
"That's right," Zero smiled, "look on the screen."
Tulip turned her head around, and her attention was immediately grabbed by the screen projecting the land of Corginia. There to her surprise she could clearly see Atticus rounding up his people for some sort of gathering. There the little corgi stood above his canine people making his speech, absolutely unharmed, not even so much as a burned mark or a bald spot. It was as if he had never even left in the first place.
She would've started asking how Atticus was even alive if not for the fact that all this made her immediately think back to what One-One told her the moment they left Atticus behind to burn in the dragon's fire – a willingness to gamble on the possibility that impossibilities such as bringing the dead back to life could be possible on this train. Back then Tulip thought it was silly to think so, but now she understood that to One-One – there was never any gamble.
Tulip wanted to reach out to Atticus, maybe for a little hug. But mostly for a chance to say sorry. She knew she could not do anything about a screen separating her and the corgis, not to mention part of her was also suspecting the possibility of him not even remembering meeting her.
But the girl could not help herself. Her cold fingers caressing the image of Atticus on the cold surface of the screen. For a brief moment, no more than a millisecond – it felt real.
"That's not all, you see," Zero laughed.
On the other screen where the treasure room was, under the pile of gold and riches were the magpie and the owl, together counting coins endlessly. Their weary gazes were upon the endless sea of gold, lying deep into its color. They seemed exhausted, or rather they seemed to have lost their will to go on. Nothing but a pair of empty husks remained.
A similar thing appeared on the screen just beneath that as well.
A sea of endless sand and an old town full of geckos. Inside a saloon the geckos were drinking, dancing, singing, all alongside their beloved sheriff Klyde Bradshaw. Acting as if their dearest sheriff never left the town in the first place. The way he smiled alongside his pals, that empty sad smile that knew something was missing inside. If only Tulip could be there to tell him, help him remember.
"The Stewards took them in after your performance in the theater," Zero explained. "They put up a good fight. Real good."
"You erased their minds," said Tulip, almost disgusted.
"It was their choice," Zero said.
"Choice?" Tulip retorted. "What choice?"
"Look there," Zero pointed to a screen broadcasting a train car full of chess pieces, "look at Fredrick the Third, Noble Steed of the West."
The old knight piece was meandering about the chessboard with an empty mind, an empty heart. He began talking and interacting with the other lifeless chess pieces as if they were real people who could actually have a conversation with. Fredrick was obviously senile, but he just didn't know it.
"Fredrick was going bankrupt back when he was human," Zero explained. "Literally – the only asset remained that he owned was an old dying horse. Do you think that there is a man who would be willing to live out the rest of his life miserable like that? Or do you think he would prefer living here on this fantastical train? Fredrick needed guidance, he needed someone to depend on – he needed a king. There is no king piece on that chess board there. I pretended to play the part for his sake, but truth of the matter is he didn't really need me in there. Unbeknownst to him – he is his own king piece. On this train, he could live on his own – unafraid. Unafraid of the pain and misery that awaited him back when he was human."
"You are sick," Tulip snapped. "Sick I tell you."
"But wait there's more," Zero proceeded to point at the screen next to that, pointing to a kingdom underwater, "Atlantis – ruled by Olympia the Fierce."
The sight being broadcast on the screen was horrifying. Buildings were burning underwater, riots taking place within the streets crumbling from the once great paved roads of the empire. Soldiers and citizens alike were engaging in bloody combat, striking and smiting any enemy that crossed their paths. Ruthless and without even the slightest care that it was not just the buildings that were on fire, but the individual citizens within as well.
"This is terrible," Tulip gasped in horror. "You set them on fire?"
"No. They did it to themselves. The water wasn't actually water you see. It's a special type of flammable oil I synthesized."
"What exactly was the choice you gave them here then?" Tulip asked.
"Oh, they made plenty of choices," Zero replied. "The biggest one was their choice to wage war and conflict instead of being decent. I did not punish them like some kind of guardian or god. I was merely the consequences of their choices."
"Unbelievable!" Tulip shouted. "I don't know what else to say to you, you maniac."
"Face it Tulip," said Zero, "I did not compel anybody to stay here. Not Klyde, Koo, Krow, the doctor, not even you!"
"I…" Tulip sighed, shaking her head, knowing Zero was partially right, at least about her case, "It's still wrong. It's wrong to not tell them they can leave. I was fortunate enough to have enough power and knowledge to realize I could make that choice. But what about all the others who don't have that gift? What about them?"
But Zero simply shrugged:
"C'est la vie. That's life. It's not a question of strength. They can still choose – they can choose."
It was immensely difficult for Tulip's heart to comprehend the idea. She simply could not understand whether it was the choice to leave that compelled one to gain the strength necessary or the strength required to gain in order to make that choice in the first place. Deep down she knew what Zero was doing was wrong, but she just could not argue why.
Zero chuckled as he continued to cough even more aggressively:
"And everything would've gone back to the way things were before – where everybody would forget and we would continue this everlasting game of wit – well… it would've gone back to that if it wasn't for…"
"For what?"
"Me," Sad-One replied.
"The Steward was strong," Glad-One said, "oh so strong. You should've seen it. It's marvelous."
"But not strong enough," Sad-One said, "not enough to take down Zero. At least… not on its own. You see, with my upgrades and my programing – who knows? Give it enough time and the Steward prototype might be able to rival this entire train."
"Crafty, these little ones," Zero coughed, "I am quite impressed, though."
"It's over," Sad-One began crawling up Zero's body, up his uniform to where the buttons on his shirt were, "this game is over. I'm letting everybody go… more importantly however – I'm reprograming your mind, Zero… our mind."
"What?" Tulip cried. "You can't do that! That's… wrong. It's… it's wrong. Immoral. You can't just play god and do whatever you want like that."
"I already played god the moment I got rid of all my so-called useless emotions and split myself into three," Sad-One responded. "I already played god the moment I trapped all these people on this train for some stupid game… for some stupid adventure. I mean for goodness's sake, look over there to the glass tanks, Tulip."
A beeping sound began sounding off in the distance behind the machinery attached to the six glass tanks, followed shortly with the tanks themselves lifting off the ground and flooding the area around with the glowing liquid contained inside. It soon became clear what those shadowy figures inside the liquid were.
Mechanical clones – who all looked identical to the Conductor. All in white uniform, with an indistinguishable face.
"How do you think I was able to travel around this train so quickly?" Sad-One said, "They say I am everywhere on this train. They say the King has eyes through all these halls. They're partially right. It was never enough for me to have just one robot body. I craved for infinity after all."
"How does that even work?" Tulip asked. "Multiple minds in multiple bodies? One mind in multiple bodies? It doesn't make any sense. You're just one mind… or… um…"
"That's what we got for playing god, I'm afraid," Glad-One said. "The price we paid for a power that cannot be explained. A costly one – but fair."
"Selfish," Sad-One said, "selfish, reckless, arrogant, that's what we were. We… I craved that power so bad. But that's what I went through to obtain the power and keep all those people here on the train. I have eyes everywhere. My eyes."
"You make it sound like I'm some sort of villain," Zero scoffed, "those people are here on this train because it was their choice. I'm not benevolent, but I'm no devil either."
"You of all people should understand what I'm going through, Tulip," Sad-One said. "The fracturing of identity. The multiple minds, the multiple versions. You more than anybody else know what it's like."
"I… I do… but One-One. It's your mind. YOUR mind. Are you seriously… okay with all of this? I mean… reprograming your own mind, messing with free will. That's really messed up, don't you think?"
"It is," Glad-One nodded. "I don't enjoy it, Tulip. And that's saying something considering I enjoy a lot of things."
"So then what exactly is stopping you from say reprograming other people's minds?" Tulip asked. "Where do you draw the line?"
"I draw the line with myself," Sad-One answered. "It is crucial that I do this to no other person but me. I need to be held responsible for all this."
"How do you stop yourself if the day comes when you do cross that line?" Tulip asked.
"This is how," said both the Ones. "We do this once – and I'll never have to do it ever again."
"You're making a mistake," Zero grunted.
"I need you to understand what I mean by reprograming," Sad-One explained. "I'm not going to erase your memory or change your personality. Fact of the matter is I can't. Because at the end of the day – you're right. We did not compel anybody to stay on this train. We did not mess with any of their choices. And if you can't mess with their free will, then no way either me or the Glad-One will be able to mess with yours."
"So then why am I in the wrong?" Said Zero.
"You are in the wrong," Sad-One pointed his leg at Zero's face, "because you selfishly assumed that everybody will agree to a journey to infinity. We both know how addicting infinity is. But have you ever stopped to consider not everybody here has the will power to take in all the responsibility of all this power? Have you ever stopped to consider some if not most simple minded humans just want to live a normal mundane life?"
"We speak of the mundane as if it's some sort of curse," Glad-One said, "but truth of the matter is infinity is impossible for something with finite power and knowledge – like a human – to truly comprehend, much less enjoy. Wandering under the rainbow and over the green pastures, enjoying a good day of joy and fun after a long week of satisfying work AND sharing that with family, friends, loved ones? Now that is an adventure, too. People don't NEED epic battles against cosmic demons and monsters to feel that satisfaction. What good does that do if they can't comprehend it?"
"We flew too close to the sun, Zero," said Sad-One, "and burned out wings."
"Wings?" Zero asked.
"Your humanity," Sad-One said, "our humanity."
The Conductor fell silent, possibly for the first time in a long time after going on for so long being arrogant and confident. The circuits and machinery within his body were still sparkling and turning like a well-oiled clock, Tulip could even hear the innards from afar. However, what she could tell right away was that his breathing had stopped right there and then. It was almost kind of creepy to stand by and watch this lifeless shell crumble from the breath of life.
Sad-One crawled on top of the Conductor's chest, unbutton the top part of his uniform. He began tapping at the metallic surface as if tapping on a computer keyboard. Zero's chest momentarily flung wide open like a door to a mechanical vault. Beneath the steam and glowing blue light was a round hollow hole with complicated circuitry and cogs lying underneath, a hole big enough for a small ball to fit inside.
"I finally understand now," Tulip said. "The two of you One-One, you are the heart. And Zero – he is the brain. Zero deemed you two useless components, as such he tried to get rid of you. Separate from the two of you."
"Correct," Sad-One said, in shame.
"This is the reason why Zero couldn't just simply destroy the two of us you see," Glad-One explained. "Because by doing that…"
"He would destroy himself," Tulip deduced.
"Precisely."
"The two of us are the source of his… I mean, my power," Glad-One said. "Separate, we are still fairly strong, but together – we are nigh invincible."
It all made sense, Tulip thought. The reason why the Conductor was nowhere to be seen near One-One. Or rather why the Conductor was nowhere to be seen at all. He was weakened, not possessing his full power, as such reducing his overwhelming presence.
"I… I really need to thank you, Tulip," Sad-One turned back to the girl.
"Me? Why?"
"I was lost you know?" Sad-One said, "Especially after the three of us split off. I didn't see a lot of meaning in… well… in everything anymore. Not in myself, not in this train."
"But then you came around," Glad-One said, "not any of your previous versions, you – you specifically. You came and showed me what I was missing. What I had lost. That moment when you refused to leave without saving Atticus – I could feel what was raging inside of you. It was genuine. And… I'm glad I was able to see it."
"You showed me compassion," Sad-One said, "and you showed me that you care. I haven't felt that in so… so long. You made me realize what I was missing – made me realize what I had to do… so for that – I… we humbly thank you."
Tulip was absolutely lost for words. She did not know what to say. Her smile was the only thing she could muster. But she had a feeling One-One would appreciate that genuine smile over any simple word that could describe how she felt. For the longest time she had had difficulty smiling genuinely, but now it was… natural.
"You got me good, Tulip," Zero said. "You came all this way, after all this time – and you won."
Tulip replied back with a mere shrug:
"You're wrong – I stopped caring about winning. This game… it didn't matter anymore. Don't get me wrong, you are my toughest opponent by far. It's a relationship that I can respect. But… um… I just… I just want to go home."
"Ha," Zero cocked his head back, "good answer."
"So this is it then?" Tulip asked One-One, "You and Glad-One go inside his heart and reprogram him and we're… done? You're just going to let everyone go, just like that? Even the ones with their numbers still stuck on them?"
"It will be their choice, yes," Sad-One said, "it's not without drawbacks though."
"What do you mean?"
"For one, I can't tell for sure which timeline they will end up on once they go back to their own reality. Much like how I can't tell which timeline you will be in once you return."
"You understand what this means don't you, Miss Tulip?" Glad-One asked.
"Yeah… I do."
"It is your choice to return," Sad-One said, "or to stay."
Tulip raised her eyebrow, almost in shock:
"Is there any reason for me to stay?"
The girl could not see his face, but she was certain Zero was smiling ear to ear.
"Tulip… why don't you take a little look out that window on the front of the train," he told her, "tell me… tell me what you see."
Tulip walked across the pile of loose screws and broken machines over to the very front of the train. There she stood above the control pads, the levers, there she stood staring out into the vast red wasteland as the train marched on in its ludicrous and unimaginable speed. It was as powerful as ever, even with its Conductor weakened and broken, it soared through at speed incomprehensible by time and space, with the engine roaring like a pack of wild untamable warhorses.
The horizon where the train was rushing towards was oddly empty, nothing but red sand populating an everlasting wasteland. It was strangely beautiful, an empty space of infinite proportion. It was something that was theoretically understood by even a child learning math for the first time. But seeing it with Tulip's own eyes made her truly realize the true meaning of infinity.
More importantly, it made her realize that the Conductor was right. This sensation – it was beyond addiction.
"You can come with me," Sad-One said, "on our journey to the Infinite Beyond. We will play no more games, and we will have no more spite. You will be at my side not as an enemy – but a partner I can respect."
"You will feel the joy of adventure," Glad-One added, "happiness."
"Sadness," said Sad-One, "grief, regret you can learn from."
"Delirium, madness," said Zero, "and the infinite spectrum of chaos."
"Everything," said Sad-One, "you will experience literally everything. Every story, every adventure, every possibility, every sensation, every possible memory, every future, every past, every strand of thought – everything."
"Or…"
"You can go back home," Glad-One said, "and finish what you've started."
"Everything you've been through shall be complete."
"Every person you've ever met will know of your success."
"And they will follow you into the greatness of the sun."
"No matter how many demons they have left inside."
"And in the end – you will finally get some closure."
"It was a pleasure to be with you on your journey, don't get me wrong. I am glad."
"But you must realize it is also time to reflect, reflect on your memories, reflect on your actions, your past lives, your past decisions, your grief."
"You must realize the power you possess in your palm at this very moment and make a choice – a choice on how to use that overwhelming power."
"There are no right answers."
"There are no wrong answers."
"But there are also no middle road, either."
"So… what will it be?"