Temporal Train
A file under lock and key, accessible only to individuals with Level 4 clearance—usually squad leaders or senior researchers in Luminance Inc.'s field teams.
Originally, it was a fan-made case file—created to explain the backstory of a key agent and his rise to prominence. And yet, despite its supposed narrative importance, I only had vague, hazy memories of the Rapture.
The train had been packed. Some of us were frozen with fear. Others, with confusion—paralyzed by the sheer absurdity of what was happening. Every student on board had lived their life believing in a mundane reality. Now, that illusion was shattered.
"Wh—what just happened? He—he just ble—"
He stopped mid-sentence, almost choking on the bile rising in his throat.
The guy was average-looking. Average height, average face. The kind of face you forget moments after seeing it.
Thankfully, he didn't hurl his sunny-side-up breakfast all over the floor. If he had, my already-bad day would've gotten worse—"covered in vomit" was not on my to-do list.
I stepped forward, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"You okay, man? Calm down. Deep breaths."
As he followed my advice, the others—previously stuck in stunned silence—began to stir. A few sharp, quick-witted students took charge, encouraging the rest into dialogue and reasoning. I half-listened. Most of it boiled down to the same mantra: stay calm, stay grounded, think.
"Thanks, man. I... I don't get it. How did we even end up in a situation like this?"
"Better to figure out how to leave than waste time wondering why. Name's Minh Vu."
I subtly tightened my grip on his shoulder—a shift from casual reassurance to a grounding touch.
"Oh, uh, nice to meet you. You can just call me P.K."
"What's that? A stage name?"
"Kinda. It's just an abbreviation of my full name. Easier to say, you know? Heh."
His awkward chuckle was full of hesitation.
[Next station is Joy Station. Disembark if Joy Station is your destination.]
The announcement rang out—mechanical, mundane… yet somehow ominously surreal.
"Wait! I think I get it!" someone shouted.
"We need to get off at the right station—our destination. Getting off at a negatively named station? That's a bad idea. But something like Joy... everyone wants to feel joy, right? That could be it—our goal. It makes sense."
It was a sharply-dressed student with piercing blue eyes. He looked like someone used to giving speeches.
"Wait... that kinda does make sense."
"Yeah, yeah, he's right!"
Murmurs of agreement echoed through the cabin.
I said nothing. The logic wasn't bad—given what little we knew, it was plausible. But I doubted something like the Rapture could be so simple.
Damn it.
Damn it.
If only I was a genius. If only I had a photographic memory. I couldn't remember anything about this Rapture, and to be honest, most Raptures are too layered and convoluted to recall easily anyway.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
A strange vibration snapped me out of my thoughts. It came from a small black smartwatch on my wrist—the strap decorated with symbols of long-defunct organizations once tasked with managing and containing Raptures. Groups that officially no longer existed… but whose influence still lingered.
The strap was new—something I won at a pop-up merch booth near Liverpool Street Station after spinning their prize roulette. I'd bought some figures and books, but this strap was something I won, not purchased.
I turned my wrist and tapped the screen. A message popped up on the smartwatch —something I'd coded as a side project with my dormmates to boost our portfolios. We had hoped it might help us land internships at places like Apple or Samsung. Making a smartwatch from scratch is surely impressive, no ?
It was a download alert. A new file.
I opened it.
A massive, never-ending PDF.
A case file.
And the first page I saw?
Temporal Train.
As if it sensed my desperation—my need for clarity—it called to me.
And so I began reading. Fast. As fast as I could.
========================================================================
Temporal Train
Designation: Anceps-009c
Access Level: 4 and above
The Temporal Train is a metaphysical locomotive running an infinite route toward an unknowable, never-ending destination.
Only two documented escapees exist.
Executive Managerial Officer: Pil Kahng
Squadron KA-02 Securement Unit: Mei Tsukumo
Pil Kahng, who prefers to go by P.K., will be referred to by that nickname throughout this file.
Despite surviving the Rapture, both P.K. and Mei have maintained strict anonymity. Neither has ever provided a public statement.
The Temporal Train is effectively a death sentence. The only reason P.K. and Mei survived appears to be sheer, dumb luck.
No confirmed method of escape has ever been established. Countless human assets have been lost in exploratory efforts.
The train appears to follow a symbolic route, its stations named after emotional states—both positive and negative.
As of May 25, 2027, the Head Commissions Office has suspended all access to the train's key. The risk factor is too high. The rewards are nonexistent.
========================================================================
No patterns.
P.K.—he's the key figure here. And Mei... wait.
Did I just third-wheel a canon event?
But if no pattern was confirmed—
If neither P.K. nor Mei ever said anything about getting off at a positive-sounding station being the right move—
Then that theory falls flat.
How do I convince them not to get off?
I can't just let them die... can I?