Cyber Chronicles 2: Prime Voyage

Chapter 11: Past

The cabin was a confined space nestled within the sleek confines of the hypertrain. Its walls, clad in muted shades of grey, seemed to hum with a subtle vibration that resonated through the air. Soft, ambient lighting cast a warm glow, creating a cosy ambiance amidst the futuristic setting.

Rows of plush seats lined the cabin, their sleek contours designed for maximum comfort during the high-speed journey. Each seat was equipped with a small armrest, adorned with a discreet control panel. As Lincoln tapped on his armrest, a holographic display materialized behind the headrest of the seat in front of him, which indicated the remaining time until his destination and also gave him options for media entertainment. His first stop would be the Imperial City, where he planned to catch an interstate train to Ontario. He was surprised to find that he had slept through most of the journey.

Compared to petroleum-based airplanes, hypertrains were known to reach three times the speed, making his eight-hour journey only up to three hours long.

The man sitting beside Lincoln spoke up, "I'm curious about what happened earlier." Lincoln turned to face him. "I was on my way into the cabin when suddenly the doors shut and the lights went out." The man continued, "Though this is becoming a common occurrence with all the energy crises happening." Lincoln nodded, feeling a bit uneasy. "Yes, you're probably right," he replied. Lincoln didn't feel nervous about the man's topic of conversation since there was no reason to suspect him of being involved with what happened. However, after spending so much time in isolation, socializing again made Lincoln feel uneasy.

The man had short brown hair and a piercing in his left ear. Lincoln also noticed a scar above his right eyebrow, which hinted at an interesting story. "You're not very talkative, are you?" the man asked, noticing Lincoln's silence. "It's not that," He replied with a chuckle. "It's just been a while since I've had a conversation with someone." The man then smiled encouragingly, "Well, I can be your first then. Let the conversation flow. Ironically, talking to strangers is easier than talking to people you know because you have nothing to lose." Lincoln nodded in agreement and pushed his overgrown hair back. "You have a good point there," he said as he eased himself.

As the hypertrain passed through a tunnel, the cabin lights brightened up.

"So, what's taking you to Canada?" Lincoln inquired, feeling it was his turn to ask some questions. "I just need to collect a few things. How about you?" the man replied, settling back into his seat. "I'm heading home," Lincoln answered. "Were you on a business trip?" the man asked. "Sort of," Lincoln replied. "Hmm," the man murmured, seeming to contemplate something.

The train emerged from the tunnel and the darkness of the vast ocean came into view through the transparent tube. The air fell silent for a moment. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Lincoln scrutinized the man, noticing his pupils dilating. It suddenly occurred to him. "An iris, huh..." he commented softly, startling the man. "How did you know?" the man inquired. "The pupils dilate when the iris is in use because they're concentrating on what the brain is projecting," Lincoln explained. "I read about it somewhere."

In truth, Lincoln possessed a deep understanding of the iris mechanisms, having observed them in use by the people he interacted with, during his time confined within the organization.

"I see," the man responded warily. "So, you're military, huh?" Lincoln questioned. "Well, I was hoping you wouldn't figure it out, but it appears you're well-informed," the man chuckled. "Yes, I'm in the military. After all, neuralinked irises have only been issued to certain members of a few militaries. However, you could say I'm just an errand boy."

"How is it that the German military is allowed on Canadian soil?" Lincoln asked.

"German?" the man asked, causing Lincoln to realize his mistake. He had forgotten that he departed from France, not Germany. Hoping to cover it up, he quickly corrected himself, "Sorry, are you French? Your accent didn't suggest it." He hoped the man wouldn't ask any more questions. If the man happened to be a member of the German military, he could be linked to the organisation that captured him.