The triple decker train pulled into the Joker Central terminal. Times were changing in his country. Since the great Card Revolution everything was always changing according to strokes of luck. Chopping, changing, rearranging, recombobulating. Choose whatever word you like. Wherever you went the scenery and the characteristic elements within were respawning, redevolping, always within the parameters that the Game Masters had programmed.
In the Capital city, one of the main changes was the changing of street names. A gridiron pattern had been set over the existing higgledy-piggledy streets. Any ancient buildings that didn't adhere to the new pattern were demolished to make way for the new, more right-angular, rectangular intersections. The grid imposed itself in a set of 4 rows by 13 and were named after playing cards. Joker Central station was firmly at the heart of the city. From there one could walk to most of the surrounding buildings, offices, pubs, nightlife and apartments.
Streetcars would take you to the more distant districts. Rattley, old and with condensation on the windows - these would take the workers who led smaller lives out to their suburbs. But here in the thick of things, Rupert had a place to be, a gathering to attend. He was required on the pub that stood on the Jack of Clubs and he had his manbag at his side.
He descended the two flights of stairs and made his way to the doors of the train. He strolled onto the concourse and through the barriers that read the RFID chip in foreheads.
Rupert, for that isn't his real name was looking around sketchily. Was he being followed? Who would be watching? What if they had realised it wasn't his real name. What if this alias of the dead man would be flagged? He'd be called in for questioning, taken away to some hellhole where they tortured the inmates by playing 5000 games of snap against a robotic monkey. He didn't have time to think such fearsome thoughts. Anything that would suck or sap his awareness from this present moment of exploration could lead to his downfall.
Meanwhile in the security room the AI scanners had flagged the manbag of a man on the platform. There were 2000 other flagged items that the security operatives had in their queue so it would be some time before Rupert would have someone on his tail. Since the revolution there were small underground groups that didn't want to live under the rule of the Game Master. A small army of brain-dead security guards in a gloomy bunker were checking items against characteristics of the most wanted list.
There were stone clowns on the ceilings staring down onto Rupert with CCTV built into their eyes. His eyes were still shifting left and right when he left the concourse and made his way out to the rainy street.
He crossed between a passing hen do that were climbing into a stretched pumpkin carriage and went through a network of alleys and side streets that led to the Jacobean on Jack of Clubs street.
He saw the street sign - the J with a club logo. It was quiet in the gloom. There was the hum of pitter pattering rain and drunken singing. There was a gate with crossed keys above the entrance. He made his way through the basement door as thunder cackled.
A group of faces turned in a mild malice. A few looked up from their game of Bridge and then returned down to their heated match. He strode up to the bar and placed his leather gloves on the counter.
"A pint of Queenbrew please" he said, the barman gave him a nod and a couple of keys on the bar that crossed each other. He pulled a pint and then Rupert retreated to a corner.
He went into the Gents. Not that there were facilities for the Ladies here. Then went into the cleaners cupboard. He closed it behind him, lit a match to see and lowered the keys to the trap door.
A ladder took him into a short tunnel that led to one door. He turned the key three times, the bolt shifted left and the door opened. He continued down this dark tunnel, it was long and led to a spiral staircase that seemed to arrive at a platform. There wasn't much light. From what he could make out there were adverts for old soap brands that didn't exist any more and deep green tiles.
A man was waiting for him.
"Blessings to you," he said with hands crossed.
"I wasn't followed as far as I know" Rupert replied.
"Ah don't worry. Those swamp monsters won't think anything of our hide out down here."
"Shall we go for a ride shall we?"
He pulled a remote controller from his pocket and a roller coaster arrived from further down the tunnel. He waved to the carriage that arrived.
A tannoy covered in cobwebs started to speak "there is a good service running on all lines. Please keep all arms and legs inside the carriage. Good luck".
The crank was clicking as the carriage was pulleyed up.
"Wheels within wheels. Games within games. Circles within circles. That's what we're in. The game of all games."
The pulley was making it's last clicks.
They dropped around a curve accelerating and whooshing. They raced through various stations and platforms that were unlit and unused. They were all in languages that Rupert couldn't identify and adverts for products he didn't understand.
Finally they turned up at another platform where the breaks squealed on. There were groups of men in flouresecent jackets and robots that were moving around the platform and down along the rails.
"Electrification, Rupert. This is the revolution. Above ground they think we're nothing. We're a few protest convicts. Low key enemies of the state.".
Rupert and his guide showed him around the platform.
"But here, down here... this is the game changer. The secret weapon. We're beyond the games. We're not playing cards. We're opening up the platforms to all manner of other worlds. We're our own Game Masters..."
Rupert blinked awestruck across the dusty platforms. The steps led up to platforms in peculiar directions. Shop fronts that were being fitted out by fishfaced people. The future was coming.
