Urban Ranching
There sure has been a lot of construction in my dreams of late.
It was in the gritty, harshly-lit near future that I made my home in a train tunnel. Several strangers and I were all travelling in a fast train in a concrete tunnel, lit by florescent lights and covered in grease and graffiti. The train was a commuter train and the inside was as dirty and dilapidated as subways are generally portrayed in the movies.
It was late at night, but I felt like it was midday. Perhaps I worked the night shift, perhaps it was the lighting that was disorienting. The other people on the train looked tired, and some were asleep. I looked out the window. Suddenly, everything was black, except for some sparks flying. The train lurched to a stop, and everyone was awake again. Some people were moaning in pain, some were just asking what happened.
I easily got up, picked my way through the bodies and the baggage, and opened a door. Out in the tunnel, there was a dim light. The tunnel was much too big for a train -- the tracks went through on one side and an area about the size of a four-lane freeway was left over. Bad engineering or an abandoned walkway, I guess. There were some wooden boxes and pallets and some bits of pipe lying about, although not enough to make walking difficult. I looked back at the train and decided to set up camp. Even though we were underground, it seemed like a good idea to make a shelter.
I went back into the train and got my bags. Even though it was a commuter train, I had a lot of luggage with me. The people in the train were just staying in there, like they expected the train to get going again. Ha! I set my things down, then came back into the darkened train and started prying the seat cushions loose. After I had an armload, I took them out and piled them next to my bags. The wooden boxes were large and easily made into a large rectangular shelter that would allow me to sleep or nearly stand. There was also room for my bags.
I had no trouble fastening the boxes together, even though I had no tools other than my usual pocketknife. It was as though they fused together when pushed together, like modeling clay or Velcro. There were no gaps between the boards forming the boxes, although the boards could be seen as distinct, separate objects. After I had constructed the shelter, I took more boxes (there were rather a lot) and reinforced the walls. Merely a double thickness of box wood. Then I arranged the cushions to cover the floor and the bottom part of the walls. It was nice and cozy.
When I left the shelter, some people had moved out of the train and were staggering about. The inside of the train was now lit like the tunnel, and I got the impression that the train had become part of the landscape.
I hoarded boxes and dragged them back to my shelter, where I started a small fire. Using the pipes lying about, I constructed a spit. First order of business was, it seems, to cook the dead so they wouldn't spoil so quickly. It took a while to pull all of the dead out of the train and stack them up. My shelter was against the wall and in the corner -- I guess this part of the tunnel was thicker than the rest -- so I could easily stack the bodies by it.
I was cooking five or six arms at once, sort of perpendicular to my spit, and they smelled delicious. Everyone else was still just wandering around, in shock. It was like a bunch of amiable zombies. I decided to set some of the limbs of the dead in the coals to bake, and go see what was in people's luggage.
Much later, I had a lovely house made of boxes, with a room full of preserved human meat and another full of the people's stuff. It was days later. The people were still wandering around, lost, and occasionally one would fall over and die. Then I'd drag him over, skin and gut him, and start making people jerky. This didn't happen very often, just once or twice a day. The wandering people seemed to be reproducing, too. Every now and then a new adult, fully-clothed wandering person would appear.
It seemed like a pretty good setup. They tasted really good, too. Making jerky was easier than cooking the people, and it was tasty jerky. I've only had jerky once in my life, and I didn't much like it. This was good jerky.
It was late at night, but I felt like it was midday. Perhaps I worked the night shift, perhaps it was the lighting that was disorienting. The other people on the train looked tired, and some were asleep. I looked out the window. Suddenly, everything was black, except for some sparks flying. The train lurched to a stop, and everyone was awake again. Some people were moaning in pain, some were just asking what happened.
I easily got up, picked my way through the bodies and the baggage, and opened a door. Out in the tunnel, there was a dim light. The tunnel was much too big for a train -- the tracks went through on one side and an area about the size of a four-lane freeway was left over. Bad engineering or an abandoned walkway, I guess. There were some wooden boxes and pallets and some bits of pipe lying about, although not enough to make walking difficult. I looked back at the train and decided to set up camp. Even though we were underground, it seemed like a good idea to make a shelter.
I went back into the train and got my bags. Even though it was a commuter train, I had a lot of luggage with me. The people in the train were just staying in there, like they expected the train to get going again. Ha! I set my things down, then came back into the darkened train and started prying the seat cushions loose. After I had an armload, I took them out and piled them next to my bags. The wooden boxes were large and easily made into a large rectangular shelter that would allow me to sleep or nearly stand. There was also room for my bags.
I had no trouble fastening the boxes together, even though I had no tools other than my usual pocketknife. It was as though they fused together when pushed together, like modeling clay or Velcro. There were no gaps between the boards forming the boxes, although the boards could be seen as distinct, separate objects. After I had constructed the shelter, I took more boxes (there were rather a lot) and reinforced the walls. Merely a double thickness of box wood. Then I arranged the cushions to cover the floor and the bottom part of the walls. It was nice and cozy.
When I left the shelter, some people had moved out of the train and were staggering about. The inside of the train was now lit like the tunnel, and I got the impression that the train had become part of the landscape.
I hoarded boxes and dragged them back to my shelter, where I started a small fire. Using the pipes lying about, I constructed a spit. First order of business was, it seems, to cook the dead so they wouldn't spoil so quickly. It took a while to pull all of the dead out of the train and stack them up. My shelter was against the wall and in the corner -- I guess this part of the tunnel was thicker than the rest -- so I could easily stack the bodies by it.
I was cooking five or six arms at once, sort of perpendicular to my spit, and they smelled delicious. Everyone else was still just wandering around, in shock. It was like a bunch of amiable zombies. I decided to set some of the limbs of the dead in the coals to bake, and go see what was in people's luggage.
Much later, I had a lovely house made of boxes, with a room full of preserved human meat and another full of the people's stuff. It was days later. The people were still wandering around, lost, and occasionally one would fall over and die. Then I'd drag him over, skin and gut him, and start making people jerky. This didn't happen very often, just once or twice a day. The wandering people seemed to be reproducing, too. Every now and then a new adult, fully-clothed wandering person would appear.
It seemed like a pretty good setup. They tasted really good, too. Making jerky was easier than cooking the people, and it was tasty jerky. I've only had jerky once in my life, and I didn't much like it. This was good jerky.