Face on concrete. Pulling my hands forward, palms blackened by a thin layer of soot that covered the floor. Levering up, that momentary swirling feeling as equilibrium established itself. Not quite well enough to stand, rolling to a sitting position with knees drawn up to my chest, hands clasped below the knees.
Brushing my caked eyes with the back of one hand, squinting in the dim light, a fixture on the far wall pulsing and fading like my heartbeat. Realization, the adrenaline shock of remembering rocketing up my spinal column causing an involuntary backwards scuttling, hands on the floor and legs askew.
"Oh shit, oh shit... I was..."
The words swallowed up by the hanging acoustical tiles, some broken in half and swaying from rusted wires. That was it, the word that was on the tip of my tongue that I didn't dare speak.
Dead.
Deceased.
Passed on.
But it couldn't be, not with what I was feeling. My senses registering the fine grit under my palms, the low dusky notes of soot from something burning, the pulsing light fixture humming and cracking on the wall. So explain this, I thought. Explain how you're just sitting here, when just seconds before you were weightless, arcing through the air while the city-scape rotated around you. Funny, it was the last thing I expected to happen to me today - falling to my death, I mean.
Not that it mattered now.
I got up, hands leaving black streaks on the concrete column. So real, so sturdy. This can't be a dream. Can it? Shuffling down the narrow platform, looking for an exit. Perhaps that blue door, set into the bone-white tiled wall. Past the energetic scrawls of graffiti breaking the angular symmetrical pattern.
Stopping in front of the door, paint chipped and scuffed like it had been kicked open hundreds of times. Turning my head to listen for any sounds of trains. Not a whisper, just the slight pull of air being circulated through the tunnel. Well, this was better than just standing around. Better try the door, then.
Turning the knob, complex machinery whirring to life as the bolt withdrew sounding like an insect folding its wings. Dusty stairs rising out of sight, a dark iron railing affixed to one side of the concrete wall. Lights punctuated the distance at even intervals, creating bands of light and dark.
Reluctant feet raising and lowering as I climbed, holding the railing with my right hand, gliding over the knurled surface pitted with age and neglect. A final door at top, steel grey with a small slit at eye level. Peering closer and catching my breath, trying to see into the room. The slit was either showing a completely dark interior or there was a flap covering it from the other side. In any case, there was nothing to see.
Looking down at the door, there were no knobs or handles. Just the spattered pattern of grey paint and the bumped heads of rivets around the slot. Exhaling, I raised a hand to knock.
"Please don't, it will make too much noise."
I whirled around, heart hammering in my throat, expecting something to reveal itself from the nearest band of shadow on the stairs. Turning back slowly, looking at the door - and the slit was now filled with two blue eyes, set in a face that seemed much older than mine, fine wrinkles at the corners.
"Where am I?" I whispered, not wanting to offend.
"It isn't a question of where or when, actually. This place is... unique.", he blinked slowly and continued;
"I need to ask you a few questions before I can let you inside. For my safety and your own, that is."
I swallowed and nodded consent, wondering what this was all about.
"Excellent. First question, what color was the door you first saw?"
He couldn't be serious. It was obviously blue-green. Or blue... or.... my head started to spin, and I slumped against the wall. His eyes tracking my movements. I straightened up again, fixing the image in my mind.
"Blue. Definitely blue."
"Correct. Next question, how many lights on the stairs?"
You've got to be kidding me. I turned around trying to find the lowest bulb, but unbidden the answer came to me - it was 8 - no wait... it was 12, I was sure of it.
"Twelve lights."
"Correct. Now, the final question. Please take your time, as this is the hardest one." he blinked a bit nervously and continued, "What color are my eyes?"
I stared, and for a moment I thought I saw the hue shifting, my gaze trembling, unable to keep looking at the two discs of color that were threatening to run to the far side of the visible spectrum. A keening wail filled my head, and through it all, clenching my fists, unwilling to back down, I locked on to the ephemeral layer of truth. Blue. His eyes were blue. Tasting iron in the back of my throat, like I had a bloody nose.
And then, the wailing stopped, my breath settling down.
I swallowed, and whispered, "Blue. Your eyes are blue."
"Very good, you may enter."
The door snicked back and slid to the side into the wall, revealing a tall old man with graying hair. "Please come in, then we can talk."
I crossed the threshold, and felt an electric sensation as I walked into the small room. There was a console that seemed to be used to monitor the trains, and a small cot to the side. Spartan and efficient, there were two chairs and a table in the center. The door closed and locked, multiple bolts thudding inside the mechanism.
He gestured for me to sit, and he took the chair opposite mine.
"I imagine you have some questions, but we don't have long to speak. Please be brief."
"What were those questions about? And why did it seem so... difficult to answer correctly?"
He leaned back, folding his hands over his lap. "I'll give you the non-mathematical version, if it helps. Not that there are any logical constants here anyway.", he continued, "You're at a nexus point. This is what you'd call a 'router for souls'. There are no physical trains, but at the same time, we must maintain open transit for whatever spectrum of energy comes through here."
Energy. Huh, that made sense, the feeling I had when concentrating on the answer almost seemed like trying a thousand different doors, but only one would open to reveal the truth. Potentials and quantum states? That would suggest...
"Yes, you're right of course. It means that reality is mutable here. Most aren't prepared for it, and when they bring their own preconceptions with them, it can get quite ugly, fast. The last person through here was convinced they were in hell, and they immediately converted into pure carbon."
I looked at the soot on my palms, feeling queasy. Oh god, no - you mean I nearly-
"Yes, you nearly got caught in your prior recall about how you died. That is another way things can manifest here. I'm very glad that you didn't, it would've been quite a tragedy."
"But wait," I paused, trying to put it together in my mind, "What prevents me from doing that right now? How could you let me in here if I'm going to transmute to whatever reality I decide?"
"Very good! You grasp what is going on perfectly. The answer is - I had to anchor you to this place. The only way to do that with a sentient being is to agree on what reality is for both of us. Therefore, the questions and the answers you provided."
He stood up, pushing the chair back. I noticed that there was a suitcase on the bed, along with an overcoat and umbrella.
"Are you leaving? I don't understand what I'm supposed to be doing here."
He smiled, putting on the overcoat and picking up the umbrella and suitcase. "Don't worry, you won't be here for long - in subjective time, that is."
"Wait, what? What does that mean!?", I cried, suddenly unable to get up and stop him. The console lit up, a single amber dot making its way from the left to the center.
"It means you must stay until you select your successor. You didn't think you got to go on without paying your dues, did you?", he stepped to the door, which was sliding open again.
"But how do I know they are the right one? Where are you going?"
He stopped at the top of the stairs, a sad look in his eyes. "You'll know when they don't turn into something else. Down here, we can only let those who have enough mental maturity through. When they fail, they'll either be gone or bounced back to their destination, if they're lucky. As for me, I'm moving up. I hear the job is tough but the rewards are bountiful."
Door sliding shut, steps echoing down the stairs.
Able to move again, I stood up and went to the console. A small monitor showed the man getting into a train, which closed its doors and blinked out of sight. Amber light on the panel sliding over to the right, then going dark.
Looking at the knobs and switches, I found one labeled "Help".
Pushing the button, listening to the tutorial that filled my mind.
Soul engineer, reporting for duty...