Are you a passenger or are you the cargo? Here at the towers, this question is up for debate. The jury’s out, because Thorn went to get beer. Meanwhile, our contest keeps the train a-moving.
By C. S. Exxe
Station managers saw the same faces dock their post with the exception of the cargo, varied as they are, exiles deemed unfit for their region due to violent crimes or work related issues, ranging to was as “run of the mill” behaviors back sixty years ago; in ninety five, when extortion and rape were “run of the mill” behaviors, so things never really do change.
Could have gotten real bad had we not made those serious changes in the sixties regarding the global priority, somehow numbers of exiles dwindled fast detoured, due word of extreme working conditions among the Arctic regions, combined with the reinforcement of a comparatively symbiotic existence on a beautiful ordering earth where, “Well we never cease to wonder at the adapting landscapes” drapes station walls.
Fast blurry images were a prized story, descriptions of regions beyond were a talk among the young, though the cultivate common good thinking had solved alternating the fossil fuel emission crisis with the alternative miracle energy that fueled the great “Exile Express” the Twin global route to Antarctica across the South American Arctic Bridge.
A human whom killed relentlessly in a far away land is the poster child for remorse, having one long ride of the world to say goodbye to living within the circumference of the collective species, “Cool Hand Luke” was incessant in aggressive disruptive behaviors. The Exile Express was the earth’s greatest ride that ended terribly, The portrait of a human walking away from the furthest station past the sentries wall.
The stations, on the plaque have a golden quote; “In No Remorse Do We Live In Service”.
The pride in of the last controlled power struggles, the captive and their warden, in a sense , the captive can change his ways at the next relocation, a region that needs its citizen; Be fully responsible, lose the attitude, dig in, lift your fair share, stop the process.
Where Citizens complain to Office of Train Stations, where you see, the perfect citizens was word, those ratings could fall dramatically. The Arm of the Office doing dubious were sent to chill, in the furthest station from the center, the stories of the people traded in private, “did you see the horror, they took the woman away from her child”. They must go back to their work space and continue in the drama of living with a social contract to the economy of their region, or to the Exile express as her cargo.