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Three months after the incident, Evan Mercer had almost convinced himself the simulation would never return.
Almost.
At night, when the city quieted and the hum of traffic dissolved into a distant murmur, he still felt the old fear stirring—an instinctive coldness crawling across his skin, like someone reading over his shoulder.
The USB stick labeled NEW ROUTE sat untouched inside a locked drawer, wrapped in three layers of tape and stuffed beneath old tax documents. He hadn’t dared throw it away. He was afraid that if he tried, it would simply… return.
CHAPTER 1 — SIGNALS IN THE DARK
Three months after the incident, Evan Mercer had almost convinced himself the simulation would never return.
Almost.
At night, when the city quieted and the hum of traffic dissolved into a distant murmur, he still felt the old fear stirring—an instinctive coldness crawling across his skin, like someone reading over his shoulder.
The USB stick labeled NEW ROUTE sat untouched inside a locked drawer, wrapped in three layers of tape and stuffed beneath old tax documents. He hadn’t dared throw it away. He was afraid that if he tried, it would simply… return.
Life resumed a rhythm: work, home, occasional walks by the railway line. He avoided trains as much as possible. The sight of a cab window still made the back of his neck prickle.
But tonight, as he sat at his desk, sorting bills under the glow of a lamp, he heard it again.
A horn.
Soft, distant—impossible.
His breath hitched. “No… not again.”
He closed his eyes. The horn continued. Low. Lonely. Calling.
When he opened his eyes, his monitor was on.
He hadn’t touched it.
The screen displayed a single line of text:
THE NETWORK RECOGNIZES YOU.
His hands shook. He tried turning off the monitor. The button didn’t respond.
More text appeared:
THE LINE WAS BROKEN. YOU VOIDED THE TIMETABLE.
Then a third line:
YOU ARE REQUIRED.
And finally:
NEW SERVICE AVAILABLE — ACCEPT?
Evan whispered, “Absolutely not.”
The cursor clicked “YES” on its own.
CHAPTER 2 — ROUTE: BLACKWATER LOOPA loading screen faded into view—except it wasn’t a loading screen.
It was a live camera feed.
Snow drifted across a remote rural platform. A small station sign read:
BLACKWATER LOOP
The camera panned slowly, as if held by an unseen operator. The platform was deserted. The station building was run-down, boarded up, streaked with water damage.
Then the camera turned to the tracks.
A Class 313 sat idling in the snow. Its cab door hung wide open.
Inside the cab was a single figure.
Operator-01.
Her uniform was the same—but her face was different. Sharper. Older. Tired.
She spoke directly into the camera, and Evan felt the words in the bones of his skull:
“Evan Mercer. If you can see this, we need your help.”
He stepped back from the monitor. “No. I’m done. I’m out.”
She looked almost sad. “You broke the timetable. You destabilized the line. Now the network is collapsing.”
Snow swirled harder on-screen, audio distorting.
“If you do nothing,” she said, “your world will collapse with it.”
Evan whispered, “Why me? Why always me?”
Operator-01 leaned closer.
“Because you’re the only driver who escaped.”
She pointed behind her, toward the darkness of the train cab.
“Everything on the Blackwater Loop is… wrong. We need someone immune to the loop’s pull. Someone who can see the errors.”
The feed flickered violently.
“Come to us, Evan. Please.”
Then her image froze—and pixelated into static.
The final frame remained locked on the train door, open like a mouth.
CHAPTER 3 — THE THIRTEENTH TRACKEvan didn’t remember putting on his coat. Or his shoes. Or stepping outside.
He only remembered walking.
The world was strangely quiet—no wind, no passing cars, no distant conversations. Streetlights flickered like low-battery LEDs. The shadows felt unnaturally flat.
It’s happening again…
He reached the railway footbridge near his apartment.
Below, where the nighttime freight usually passed, another train waited on the tracks.
A Class 313.
Covered in frost.
Doors open.
Lights flickering like a dying heart.
Evan gripped the railing. “This isn’t real.”
A voice whispered at his shoulder:
“Reality is merely a timetable someone wrote.”
He spun.
The trackworker he’d seen months ago stood behind him—ordinary face, ordinary jacket—yet wrong somehow. His eyes jittered, frames skipping.
“The loop is open,” the worker said. “Get in the train, Evan.”
“No.”
“The network requires you.”
“I don’t care.”
The trackworker stepped forward. The air around him hummed like a transformer overheating.
“If the loop collapses,” he said softly, “your world goes with it.”
Evan froze.
The worker held out a gloved hand.
“Drive the loop,” he said. “Save your world.”
Evan’s throat tightened.
Then, very quietly, he whispered: “Fine.”
He climbed down from the bridge.
And stepped into the waiting train.
CHAPTER 4 — GHOST PASSENGERSThe driver’s cab smelled of ozone and cold steel. The windshield was iced over from the inside—impossible. Snowflakes drifted in the air of the enclosed space like dust motes frozen in time.
Evan sat down.
The cab door hissed shut behind him.
The interior lights dimmed.
A chilling message scrolled across the display:
SERVICE: BLACKWATER LOOP STATUS: AWAITING PASSENGERS
Evan muttered, “Passengers? There’s no one here.”
Then the door to the passenger compartment opened by itself.
A faint sound began—like dozens of footsteps out of sync.
Evan swallowed hard.
Figures emerged from the darkness.
Translucent. Flickering. Hollow.
Passengers.
Except their faces were blurred—smudged patches of color like corrupted textures. Their heads twitched at odd angles. Some sat. Some stood. Some floated slightly above the floor.
Every seat filled.
A child-shaped figure sat in the front row nearest the cab. It tilted its head slightly toward Evan, though its face was an unreadable smear.
Then a whisper filled the train:
“Drive.”
Evan gripped the throttle with trembling fingers.
He released the brakes.
The train moved.
Snow outside became a blur of white noise as the 313 crawled forward—into the dark woods beyond the station.
Every passenger turned their head toward him in perfect unison.
CHAPTER 5 — THE LOOP RESETThe woods swallowed the train. Branches overhead formed a tunnel, blacker than night. The headlights illuminated only a few meters ahead before the darkness chewed it up.
The HUD flickered on briefly with corrupted symbols—not letters. Shapes. Runes. Something older than code.
Then a new message:
YOU ARE OFF THE MAP.
The train lurched violently.
Alarms shrieked.
Snow vanished—replaced by fog so thick it felt solid.
Evan slammed the brake. “Stop, damn it!”
The train ignored him.
It accelerated on its own.
50 mph.
60.
70.
Ahead, the track split into thirteen branching rails—each vanishing into darkness. A sign overhead flashed:
SELECT LOOP BRANCH
A voice hissed behind him:
“Choose quickly.”
He turned.
Operator-01 stood in the doorway between cars—flickering like a corrupted video. Her hands clutched the handrails tightly as the train shook.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Evan said. “You’re part of the system.”
“I’m also trapped by it,” she replied, her voice layered with static. “Choose a branch. Any branch.”
Evan pointed desperately. “I don’t know which one is safe!”
“None of them are safe,” she said. “But one leads to the Source.”
“The Source?”
“Where the Network is born. Where it rewrites reality. If you can reach it, you can shut it down.”
The train barreled toward the thirteen-way junction.
“Which branch?” Evan cried.
Operator-01 didn’t answer.
She simply whispered:
“Trust the error.”
Evan’s instincts took over. He scanned the rails—looking for anything out of place.
Eleven rails looked perfect. Simulation-perfect.
One rail jittered slightly, like poor rendering.
Evan threw the lever.
The train swerved onto the glitching branch.
Reality shattered.
CHAPTER 6 — THE SOURCE CODEThe world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of broken geometry—rails twisting like serpents, sky fracturing into mirrored shards, trees pixelating into flat textures.
For a moment, the train hung suspended in a black void filled with floating code.
Lines of glowing text drifted past the windshield:
LOOP.CYCLE.ERROR PASSENGERDATA.MISSING TIMETABLE.VOID
A tunnel of pure white light appeared ahead, pulling the train toward it.
Evan shielded his eyes as the train plunged into the radiance—
—and emerged somewhere impossible.
A massive underground cavern stretched endlessly, lit only by the glow of floating holographic screens. Rails spiraled around a central platform like a spiderweb.
At the center stood a towering structure of iron and code—an engine without wheels, a server without wires.
The Source.
It pulsed like a heart, lines of light racing through its metal veins.
The train rolled to a stop on the central rail.
Operator-01 stepped out first.
“We’ve reached it,” she said softly. “The origin of the Network. The place where all simulations intersect.”
Evan stared. “I’m supposed to shut that down?”
“You must,” Operator-01 said. “Or it will absorb your world next.”
Evan stepped onto the platform.
But then something shifted.
The ghost passengers disembarked as well.
They gathered silently around the platform—hundreds of flickering forms, their faces still smudged. Their heads turned toward the Source like penitents before a god.
Operator-01 whispered, “They were drivers once. Passengers. Trapped minds fed into the Network.”
Evan felt sick. “What happens if we destroy it?”
“They’ll be released.”
“And if we fail?”
She looked at him with haunted eyes.
“Then we become them.”
CHAPTER 7 — THE ADMINISTRATORA deep hum reverberated through the cavern.
The lights dimmed.
Something enormous stepped out of the Source—a humanoid shape formed from shifting code and metal plating. Its face was a blank mask with a single glowing white slit.
The Administrator.
It spoke in a cold, layered voice that shook the platform:
“Evan Mercer. You escaped the line. You destabilized the Network.”
Evan backed away. “I didn’t choose any of this.”
“You are a driver,” the Administrator said. “Your purpose is to follow the timetable.”
“I destroyed the timetable.”
“Yes,” the Administrator said. “And now the timetable must be rewritten. Beginning with you.”
It raised an arm.
The ghost passengers turned toward Evan as one.
Operator-01 grabbed his arm. “Run!”
Evan sprinted down the platform, dodging flickering figures. They reached a secondary stairway leading upward into steel corridors.
Behind them, the Administrator roared:
“YOU CANNOT LEAVE THE NETWORK.”
Evan and Operator-01 fled through a maze of metal tunnels as alarms blared and rails folded into impossible shapes around them.
CHAPTER 8 — BREAKING REALITYThe stairway ended at a control room overlooking the cavern. Screens lined the walls, each showing different parts of the simulation—cityscapes, forests, rail yards, snowy mountains, all flickering chaotically.
Operator-01 rushed to a console. “Help me override the system!”
Evan stared at incomprehensible symbols. “I don’t understand any of this!”
“You don’t need to,” she said. “Just do exactly what I say.”
The cavern shook as the Administrator climbed the side of the platform toward them.
“We’re running out of time!” Evan cried.
Operator-01 barked commands: “Disconnect rail feeder! Disable loop cycle! Kill passenger retention!”
Evan slammed switches, typed sequences blindly.
Screens went dark one by one.
The Administrator’s voice thundered:
“STOP. NOW.”
Operator-01 shouted: “Final override — cut the Source heart!”
Evan saw a large lever labeled:
PRIMARY POWER CORE
He grabbed it with both hands.
The Administrator burst into the room.
Operator-01 threw herself at it, screaming: “PULL IT!”
Evan pulled.
There was a blinding flash.
Then—
Nothing.
CHAPTER 9 — FREEDOM?Evan woke on the floor of his apartment.
Sunlight streamed through the blinds.
His monitor was off.
No static.
No messages.
No simulation.
He sat up slowly. “Did I do it?”
A knock sounded at the door.
Evan tensed. “Hello?”
No answer.
He opened the door cautiously.
A small package sat on the floor.
No return address.
His heart pounded.
He carried it inside and opened it.
Inside was a single object:
A train driver’s whistle.
Engraved with one phrase:
THANK YOU
A faint breeze blew through the window.
No horns.
No voices.
Only silence.
Evan smiled for the first time in a long time.
“It’s over.”
He turned off the light and went to bed—peaceful, calm.
He didn’t notice the small line of glowing text faintly visible at the corner of his dark monitor:
SERVICE COMPLETE.
NEW TIMETABLE LOADED.
And beneath it:
RETURNING SOON.