The Lost Train of Thought

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Authors: John Hulme
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the last stop, the only people left in the station were three owners of a Badge with a double-sided Wrench, none of whom seemed anxious to board the train just yet.
    “All aboard!”
    “Any chance we can get you to hold it for five more minutes?” asked the Octogenarian, still sitting on her handbag-style Toolkit.
    “Sorry, ma’am.” The Conductor was unmoved by Sylvia’s famously sunny disposition. “The Trans-Seemsberian hasn’t been a single minute late since MJGVXXIII, and I’m not going to be the one to break the streak.”
    “What’s the point?” Shahzad Hassan lifted his twin attachés. “Clearly, the child is not coming.”
    The Octogenarian nodded sadly, and even the mysterious Hassan was disappointed at the fact that Becker Drane was nowhere to be found in this moment of need. But Fixer Blaque seemed more surprised than anything else.
    “It appears you are right, Hassan.”
    Blaque threw his weatherbeaten Toolmaster ’45™ over his shoulder, then leaned on his walking stick and headed for the crowded train.
    “Don’t we need to call in someone for backup?” asked Sylvia, following him up the steps.
    “I planned for this eventuality, although I hoped it would never come.” Blaque slowly led his colleagues through the train car, searching for an empty three-seater. “Fixer #2 has been living in Obscurity for quite some time now, and he’s agreed to meet us should the need arise.”
    The Octogenarian looked at Hassan, who was as intrigued to hear that the reclusive Mr. X might be joining a multi-Fixer Mission as she was. But there would be plenty of time to discuss this and other developments on the long trip out to the End of the Line. The first order of business was finding a seat.
    “Perhaps there is room in the dining compartment?”
    As the three Fixers stepped between cars, the Trans-Seemsberian dragged itself into motion. The chandeliers jingled as they had for nearly a century, and the red velvet walls and sepia-toned photographs told stories of a long-vanished era. Unfortunately, every high-backed dining booth was full— all except for one, that is, where a single head leaned against the window.
    “Excuse me.” Fixer Blaque approached the lone traveler, who was lost inside a dog-eared text. “Would you mind if we joined you?”
    The teenage boy put down his copy of Agatha Christie’s The Orient Express , took another sip of his iced Certain Tea, then turned to face the three weary Fixers. They were a strange lot to be sure, but for a Mission to the Middle of Nowhere, Becker Drane figured they would do.
    “What took you guys so long?”
    11. The most popular amusement park in The Seems, featuring an Awesome Place to Eat, Awesome Things to Do, and the Most Awesome Ride Ever.
    12. 99.9% of all Thought and Emotion is shipped in its raw form for people to do with what they will. The remaining .1%, however, is reserved for Case Workers to offer their clients Helpful Hints, Emotional Rescues, Songs You Can’t Get Out of Your Head, etc.
    14. The hallowed piece of marble onto which all Court of Public Opinion decisions are irrevocably engraved.



4

Trans-Seemsberian Express
    The Black Market, The Outskirts, The Seems
    On Saturdays and Sundays between 9:00 a.m. and 6:00 p.m., a normally muddy field in the thinly populated area on the edge of The Seems is transformed into a thriving metropolis of tents, tables, and vendors displaying wares of every shape and size. Most of the trinkets and keepsakes found here are of the perfectly legal (though often junky) variety, but for those who dig a little deeper, the Black Market offers items of a different sort.
    “Seven Bucks?” 15 The crusty, gold-toothed merchant angrily pushed away Fixer Blaque’s coin-filled hand. “I couldn’t buy my grandmother a dazzleberry pie for seven Bucks!”
    Fixers Blaque and Drane stood before a foldout table stocked with jars, glass bottles, metal pots, and tins, each containing a powder, oil, or extract from

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