Chrisoft::Blog(r#"The Station of Elyssima")

Chris hung up her last phone call of the day and started packing up. +She was on her final stop of an important business trip to the capital +city of Elysionia that lasted a week. She’s having a vacation once this +trip concludes, and now she’s dying for getting back her cozy little +home.

In Elysionia, people get around mostly by trains. There is an +extremely elaborate railway system that connects every single place of +importance in Elysionia. Its foundations laid out hundreds years ago, +the Elysionia Railways has been serving the country loyally and +contentedly over the years. Being inside continental Europe, it also +links to other surrounding countries.

Chris works for upper management of a private company. As part of her +job she travels around the country frequently and take the trains more +than a few dozens of times each year. Being a frequent rider of +Elysionia Railways, she’s familiar with the system enough that she can +recite the time table of various larger stations. With still well more +than an hour from her planned departure time, she is not in a hurry.

Chris is anxious for this very special train ride too, as the new +train station in the capital began to operate yesterday. She booked +specifically for a train that would depart the city from the new +station. She has heard that this new station was designed and built like +no other train stations in Elysionia, and she was ready to find out +what’s so special about this new station that supposedly will +revolutionize railway transportation in Elysionia.

A taxi is called and Chris tells the driver her destination. “Huh, +the new station?” Says the driver, “I heard a multitude was there +yesterday just to check it out. Are you going there just for a visit +too?” “A multitude of people… it must be really well designed,” thought +Chris. She’s busy being distracted by her own thoughts and didn’t pay +attention to answering the driver’s unsolicited question at all except +letting out an unclear murmur of “yes”.

Before long she is dropped off at the station. When she laid her eyes +on the station for the first time Chris was utterly stunned – the +exterior of the station looks exactly like a gigantic Gothic castle. She +is standing at least a few hundred meters away from the main entrance +yet the entire building barely fits in her field of view. A triplet of +sharp spires with beautifully engraved patterns point straight into the +sky. Towers surrounding them must still be as tall as the tallest radio +tower she has ever seen. Flamboyant traceries made up most of the +exterior openings. Born into a rural farming family, Chris could not +fathom the sheer amount of work that was put into the construction of +this station (nor could she understand why the city decided to erect a +huge Gothic castle in pretty much the dead center of Elyssima). There is +not a single railway track in sight – they are all cleverly well hidden. +The square in front of the station is still flooded with a large crowd +of people, all admiring this gorgeous building.

But Chris is here to take a train ride and she really does not have +the time to give this building a good look that it deserves, so she +proceeds into the station. However again her eyes are instantly hooked – +the pointed arches, the vault ribs which forms an endless mesmerizing +geometric pattern, oh and the intricately decorated crystal chandeliers +hanging around the center of the ticketing hall, which are even more +opulent than the ones that appeared in her childhood dreams. Chris could +not take a single step without getting amazed by something new that goes +into her sight.

A clock with hands long as a bus in the hallway brought Chris back to +real life – it’s 20 minutes before the train she is planning to take +will depart. The railway system of Elysionia works like a massive subway +– as long as one has paid the appropriate fare, they will be permitted +to travel between any places below a distance corresponding to the fare +on that day. Still, trains are run at different frequencies for each +destination. And in Chris’ case, if she missed this one she would have +to wait 3 more hours, which would mean she won’t be in her house until +midnight. Willing as she is to stick around, she still wants to be home +more, just by a little bit. She says to herself, “I shall give this +place a good visit someday,” and immediately got back into business – +looking up the gate on the information display and following the signs. +Everything is still so familiar.

Chris followed the signage to a three-way junction. It appears that +each path leads to a different set of gates. She took a sharp turn +following where the arrow points and heads to a lower floor, not even +noticing her dress almost being caught in the escalator.

She finds herself in a delightfully decorated corridor with gates on +one side and fine art exhibits on the other. She has some walking to do +though – the corridor is for gates 80 to 1, and her gate is 15 – so she +really doesn’t have time to appreciate the art, or to think about how +they managed to squeeze so many gates into a single corridor, +or why are there so many gates in this station in the first +place.

As the station was put into use only a day ago, it’s still early in +the transitional period: there are not a whole lot of trains here, nor +are there too many people who are actually taking a train. It soon +becomes apparent to her that the gates are fairly far apart from each +other, and even at her fastest walking pace, she will probably not make +it on time. So she started running. Chris is not good runner. She never +has been. And the fact that she is wearing an ankle-length dress +definitely isn’t helping. She looks at the wall of arts and sees her own +reflection on the fresh glazed wall tiles – her long, unblemished white +dress flying high from all the velocity that she usually never gets to +have. Similarly set in motion is her long, black hair, which is +spreading in midair. The reflection is so clear that she can even make +out the frills and cutwork on the hemline – even threads on the needle +lace, which are not unlike the ribs of the traceries she saw moments +ago, just vastly different in scale. She got a strong sensation of déjà +vu from what she just saw, as it reminded her of a series of daydreams +she often had when she was a little girl. But this isn’t a great time to +fantasize about her prior dreams, is it?

50, 49, 48 … Chris is steadily passing by the gates. It still puzzles +her why are there so many gates in this station. She must have seen +number as large as 200 when she was at the junction. Is there ever going +to be enough rolling stock in Elysionia to warrant so many gates? Also +why are they using gates at all? Train stations usually have +just platforms don’t they? Is this why they said the new station would +revolutionize railway transportation in Elysionia?

30, 29, 28 … Chris is running out of her breath. She takes a look at +her watch and realizes that she still has 10 minutes left. “Surely I can +make it to gate 15 in ten minutes,” she says to herself. There are few +people in this section of the station, and all the benches are vacant. +She stops to take a quick breather. Mindlessly she glances at the floor +brilliantly lit up from atop and saw her own image. “Holy heck,” mutters +Chris, “it must take a lot of work to keep this station under such +condition in the future.”

When Chris passes by gate 25 she notices something is off. She halts +her steps and looks back.

+Gate
27 +

+Gate
26 +

+Porte
25 +

The language of the sign changed for some reason. This baffles Chris +and makes her freeze in place for a good second. She has learned a +little bit of French in her youth and can indeed understand the word. +She just couldn’t understand why – Elysionia is an English speaking +country and as long as English remains the lingua franca of the world, +there really isn’t a good reason to change the language midway here. +Maybe this gate is reserved for trains to and from France? Who +knows…

It didn’t take long until she notes another change in language. This +time it’s German.

+Porte
22 +

+Bahnsteig
21 +

Only that Chris doesn’t know any German and wouldn’t be able to tell +if the sign stands for “Slaughterhouse 21” with their scary long +compound words. But she also feels a little bit reassured as her +suspicion that these gates may be reserved for trains that connect to a +different country could be right, or so she thought.

As she assumes the bizarreness would end here, she finds out she was +wrong, VERY wrong. Because this is what she sees next:

+Imbarchi
19 +

+INTROIRE·IN·CVRRVM
19⅓ +

+INTROIRE·IN·CVRRVM
18 +

“What on earth is happening,” says Chris, “is this station going to +pull a Platform 9¾ on me? Where would trains using this gate go anyway, +Vatican City?”

Just as she couldn’t stop admiring the exterior of the station when +she just arrived, these signs don’t stop surprising her, and in an +increasingly disturbing manner.

INTROIRE·IN·CVRRVM
\(\begin{vmatrix} 3 +& 5 & 7 & 4 \\ 1 & \pi & 6 & 3 \\ 0 & 7 +& 5 & 9 \\ 5 & 4 & 6 &1 \end{vmatrix}\)

INTROIRE·IN·CVRRVM
\(|\mathrm{e}^{(\ln(61)+\mathrm{e}i)(-4-\frac{7274}{1024}i)}|\)

ᚷᛠᛏ
\(\displaystyle\int_{3}^{\frac{45}{7}} \sinh^{-1}(x) +\cosh^{-1}(x)\,\mathrm{d}x\)

Chris isn’t good at math when she was in high school. She doesn’t +even know what half of these symbols could ever mean. She doesn’t think +she has seen the symbols on the last sign in any of the languages alive +in the world nowadays either. What is this now, a time machine? As her +confusion reaches the peak, Chris hears from the PA system:

“Dear passenger Chris Xephyr, the train you are taking is departing +in 3 minutes. Please board the train from Gate 15. Thank you.

Cara Chris Xephyr viatrix, currus qui veheris abibit in tribus +minutae. Amabo te, introi vehiculum ab porta XV. Gratias tibi.”

“Who designed this godforsaken place…” exclaims Chris, “how does it +know my name? This isn’t an airport is it?” She checks the gate closest +to her, and there is no jet bridge to be seen, only rail tracks. Chris +has never heard a single word from the PA system ever at any station she +has been to in Elysionia. She scrambles to find her booking information, +only to find out that it does say “New Elyssima” there. There is no time +of departure or name of the passenger, as the booking system never asked +for them. The station should never have known her name or which +train she is taking. Her confusion grown into fear, Chris starts running +again, even faster than before, almost like she’s being chased by a +deadly monster that would instantly consume her if she gets caught.

As Chris runs on, she feels the passing of time is slowing down, her +limbs increasingly heavier, and gates seemingly becoming farther +separated from each other. She could not hear a thing, not even the +sough of wind passing by her ears. Her vision becoming darker, Chris +starts to wonder how long she could keep running. She hasn’t seen a +single person since the signs started speaking nonsense. She starts to +contemplate her life choices, as one would inevitably start doing under +such situation: why she couldn’t end the last call a bit earlier; why +she had to book a ticket from the new station; is it really worth the +agony she is experiencing right now; what if she went down the wrong way +at the junction; why she wouldn’t choose to inherit her family land and +be a farm girl staying at her hometown – after all if that were the case +she wouldn’t have to endure any of what she has gone through in the last +20 minutes. She no longer has the desire to revisit this place +afterwards – if this is the future of railway transportation in +Elysionia she might also avoid travelling by train altogether in the +future – still she’s kind of curious what could be inside those tall +towers she saw when she was outside the station. But obviously this is +not the time to find out. The only thought in her head right now is to +get out of this cursed place somehow.

Chris runs into a person when she’s deep in her thoughts. She +apologizes for her carelessness and is about to move on, only to realize +that she would likely be able to find nobody that could help her if she +missed this chance. Desperately she asks the person whether they know +where gate 15 is. The person, not to Chris’ surprise at this point, +started to speak complete gibberish in response.

Chris doesn’t want to give up this easily. She continued, with the +heavy breathing she got from all this running and almost in a pleading +voice:

“Did you hear the PA? I am that Chris Xephyr. Does hearing +the PA calling out your name in a train station seem perfectly normal to +you?!”

Again, the person started to speak gibberish. Their demeanor seems +confident, so they probably understood Chris just fine. But she isn’t to +able to make out anything whatsoever from their speech, not even their +body language. Frustrated, she thanks the person and resumes her +seemingly impossible quest for gate 15.

Before she is able to run more than a couple of steps, Chris +collapses to the floor. The hem of her dress, still moving under +inertia, flies ahead and covers her torso. A gentle breeze from the deep +side of the corridor, presumably for the purpose of ventilation, blows +it back to where it belongs, with the cutwork flapping around in the +breeze. The person from whom she just sought help is now nowhere to be +found, almost like they has never been there.

Chris wakes up finding herself in the warm afternoon sun lying +against her broom. She was again daydreaming during her housemaid duty. +Fortunately there isn’t anyone home to catch her in the act. She rushes +to the living room to find today’s newspaper, its headline reading “New +Elyssima Train Station Project Dismissed”. She lets out a sigh of relief +and continued her work.