The Wanderers by Permuted Press Read Free Book Online Page A

his supervisor’s call button, four, five, nine times.
    Nevertheless, he brushed off his anguish with a quick shrug. There were several things he had to do urgently; afterwards he could twiddle his thumbs.
    Before transferring control, the computer had created valid routes for the two trains circulating on the same track. In case of manual control, all of the orange situations had to be canceled; all of the statuses had to be put in “Stop” mode and resolved one by one. He simultaneously pressed the incoming train’s origin button, and the emergency destruction button, and the route towards the deposit was cancelled. He had started to give the new orders when the situation’s status suddenly changed to “Alert”. A frame of red emergency lights lit up at the same time all along the informative panel.
    The operator blinked, his mouth immediately drying up. He did not understand the red lights, did not know what has happening. Finally, he saw it clearly: the train on the platform was moving. It was moving on the tracks that would cause a direct collision with his train. Oh my God... my God no no no... The head of circulation at the Ronda station had green lighted the station’s exit signal at the same moment he had redirected the route. Since the collision route had not been created, the software had not warned him that the latest operation could result in a catastrophe.
    He picked up the telephone and dialed the direct code to reach the stationmaster on his screen. He could still stop it, he had to . The train had not yet gained speed. My God please God... don’t let it happen... He watched the screen.
    “ Hello?” said the stationmaster. The little rectangles that made up both trains were swiftly coming closer to each other. One of them had sped up enough, and the other had not yet slowed down enough. They were scarcely half a mile away from the station. “Hello?”
    “ I...” he said, his tongue feeling like a sponge.
    And on the digital bulletin board, the trains came together and became stuck, motionless. An icon with an enormous alert sign appeared on top.
    The operative hung up. A tear was falling down his red, warm cheeks.
    The collision was frontal, and so violent that three train cars were literally reduced to metal pieces no bigger than a piece of paper. The roar of the collision broke several windows of the nearest buildings. The broken glass fell to the street almost immediately, causing several fatal victims. Some pieces of the trains had flown at such speed that the passengers who were waiting at the platform received an unexpected shower of twisted iron. A man dressed in sportswear and carrying a backpack received so many metal shards that he fell to the ground, along a trail of spattered blood that was several feet long. Several feet away, a young girl, who had not reacted to the sudden explosion of shrapnel that was falling around her, found herself holding her boyfriend’s hand when she was able to recover. Just the hand. Others had much less prosaic deaths, and were immediately shot down, victims to the projectiles.
    Of the two-hundred people that were in the train, only about forty survived. Most of them had been traveling in the end cars. Many were seriously wounded and others still lived, yet were imprisoned in a metal nightmare. A few could still move on their own and even though they were still confused, did what they could to help the others.
    The authorities were very swift. In less than four minutes ambulances, firefighters and the police were on the spot. Many residents from the town arrived, alerted by the noise.
    Nobody noticed when the first cadavers came back to life. There was blood and amputated limbs everywhere, and that, added to the deafening weeping and moaning that filled the area, obscured the maddening scenes in which victims turned against their saviors, and the bodies that had already been taken away in bags, disappeared. At least for a while, no one could distinguish