Eridanus ~ A Collection Of Short Stories

The Facade of the Traveller

"Please stay clear of the doors."

The regular commuter pays no special attention to the monotonous announcement, and proceeds to find a seat on the train, which on unlucky days, proves to be a near-impossible task owing to the ocean of fellow passengers.

As we eventually secure a spot amidst the crowd and take our place, our eyes are naturally drawn to the human beings around us. People taking the same train, to a preset destination. But for an unknown purpose.

How much do we really know about these commuters, who at times meet our inquisitive gaze, and at other times carry out discrete surveillance of their own? Are these passengers truly what they seem to be?

A middle-aged man enters the compartment, having barely made it on time to catch the train. He regains his composure in a second, straightening his tie and picking up his briefcase. A tailored suit, expensive shoes, and the Rolex on his wrist give his fellow passengers an insight into the businessman's lifestyle. He takes a seat amid the commuters.

Typical CEO. I bet he's got a tongue as sharp as that tie, an elderly man smirks to himself, having seen a dozen such men in his life.

Serious folk, I wonder how many people he fired today.

A woman seated beside the businessman regards him with a glance sideways, forming her own assumptions.

Going home to his family after work, I suppose, she guesses, catching a glimpse of the man's briefcase.

Or not. He probably doesn't have time to spend with a family, even if he had one. Workaholics, these businessmen.

The man turns his gaze to the people seated around him, and to those holding onto the handbars as they stand. His eyes settle on an elderly lady clutching a purse in her hand.

Not one strand of her tight silver bun out of place, the woman regards her fellow passengers with a patronising gaze. Her magenta skirt and a matching coat complement her steely blue eyes, and her pursed lips give the lady a stern demeanor.

Rules the family with an iron fist, that's for sure, the businessman surmises, chuckling to himself.

Probably exersises so much control over her husband that he'd be celebrating her absence in the house. Has she forgotten how to smile?

The elderly woman turns her head slightly to get a good view of the people around her, engrossed in their own worlds. Her thin lips twist into an amused smile as she searches for a victim for her own game of assumptions.

A young man taps his foot absentmindedly a few seats away, securing the lady's attention. She glances at her co passenger, who seems to be engrossed in his phone. He fidgets with the buttons of his white coat, and his spectacles complete the doctor's ensemble.

The old lady shakes her head at her own thoughts.

Ah, those good old days when doctors would treat patients and save lives, without thinking about the money, she recalls with a sigh.

Today, they seem to have lost their values. I wonder how many people he fleeced by prescribing unnecessary medicines, just so the pharmacy company could make money.

The young doctor looks up from his phone. Taking a break from his messages, he gazes around the compartment. He realises that he knows none of the people around him, and wonders how accurately he can form inferences from their appearance.

The man's eyes fall on a young schoolgirl seated a few seats opposite him. About twelve or thirteen years old, the girl has on the uniform of a local academy, and clutches her schoolbag close, as though in fear of losing it. Her eyes shift from person to person as she takes in her sights to keep boredom at bay. Getting home is the only thing on her mind.

The young doctor smiles to himself.

No matter what we say about others, schoolchildren are by far the most innocent people I've met, he thinks to himself, and seems to recall all his encounters with children.

They're the ones who aren't marked by prejudice, greed, lies or wordly worries. Look at the kid, drifting off into a world of her own...

Interrupting the game of assumptions, an announcement over the speakers jerks the players out of their reverie.

"Last stop, Stonewall Street, ten minutes. Doors open on the left."

The commuters avert their gaze from the victims they have judged over the past half hour, and proceed to gather their things and sit tight before the last stop approaches.

The "workaholic" businessman withdraws a planner from his briefcase and opens it. He turns to a page and makes a note regarding his schedule. No, it isn't about another meeting.

It's about his wife's birthday, and how how intends to surprise her by planning the event himself.

The "grim" old lady opens her purse and gently takes out a piece of paper, which she gazes at intently. No, it isn't a list of instructions she intends to hand over to her husband.

It's a photograph of their wedding day, which took place only five years before her husband passed away, leading her to take over the family with a firm hand.

The "unethical" doctor turns his attention back to his phone. A number of text messages flood his inbox as he scrolls down to read them. No, they're not from pharmaceutical companies offering him bribes.

The messages are from the grateful family of a patient on whom he successfully performed a lung transplant.

As the train comes to a slow halt, the passengers rise from their seats. The young schoolgirl clutches her bag closer and hesitantly walks towards the door. No, she isn't struck by the fear of losing her bag.

It's the fear of being discovered with a bag full of stolen stationery she took from the school cupboards.

As the train doors finally open, the people jostle out of the compartment, not sparing each other a second glance. The businessman, the old lady, the doctor, and the schoolgirl all head in different directions...

Neither of them knowing the truth about the other.