Louise and The Men of Transit

New Direction

Metal wheels screamed against metal tracks. Metal wheels thundered towards Union Station. The Toronto Rocket Cars tore into Union station on the other side of the painted glass wall behind Louise. The glass with its sketches of faces, handwritten phrases, muffled its clatter inside the station. She heard its chimes as if from a distance. The platform she was standing on was quiet. She'd thought that going down into one of the busiest stations on the subway system would afford her an opportunity to enact the Sixth TTC Way. Help others. She had her new hair, new suit. Her nametag flung out the announcement of her new name writ in black letters on the white card with the distinct red-and-white TTC logo over her first name. She decided to be safe and not reveal her last name.

But no one had stopped to ask her any questions. They all seemed to know where they were going.

And none seemed fazed by the scent of vomit that trailed down the station from above, down the steps, to the platform below the street and train station. She'd darted her eyes this way and that looking for the source. All the clean tiles didn't reveal anyone's upchucked dinner. She'd walked away from the steps, hoping to escape the offense. But it followed her squeezed tight nostrils like a pining hound. Maybe if she inhaled deeply, it would go away. Then she thought: she'd inhale aerosolized vomit. She grimaced and forced herself to focus on why she was here.

She'd been standing on the elegant white-tiled platform for about fifteen minutes, two trains coming in and going out, disgorging and picking up TTC customers, briefly wafting the acrid scent away as they pushed air into and through the station. Oblivious customers had streamed around her like water around a rock.

No one had splashed up against her.

Maybe she was standing in the wrong place. She'd been downtown and had decided on the fly to take her nametag out of her purse, pin it on her lapel, and enter Union Station through one of the outdoor stairs leading from Front Street down to the station entrance. She'd walked into a Presto faregate, her card beeping in harmony with others who'd entered alongside her through their gates and managing to slow just enough to not hit the gates before they clunked open before her. She had followed the majority of the crowd around the operator's booth on her right. Some of the crowd forked to the left, some to the right. Both stairs went down to Line One. Both Line One platforms were for northbound trains. She wasn't sure which northbound she should follow. The crowd jostled and moved her left and left until she'd washed up at their tail end on this platform. Louise raised her eyes to the black wayfinding sign over her head that stretched the length of the platform edge. White letters spelled out "University Line" next to a yellow circle encasing a white numeral one. She lowered her eyes back to the platform where a few customers had appeared. They were milling around, waiting to be taken to their destination. They didn't look her way. Perhaps the other arm of the U would be better.

Feeling cheered by her decision, Louise sprighted up the stairs to her left, crossed the wide upper level of the station to join the greater flood of customers, and, in their midst, descended the other set of Line One stairs to the other northbound platform. She strolled along the platform to its end, towards more stairs that led to an office building, she surmised. Louise stopped. She turned, letting her eyes scan past the painted semi-opaque glass across the tracks from her, back towards the stairs she'd just come down. She backed up to stand between pairs of pillars closer to the tiled wall. She marvelled at the clear, bright ad displays and looked around for a time clock. Her efforts failing, she pulled out her smartphone from her left-hand pocket. Eighteen minutes.

Another Toronto Rocket Cars on the other side of the dividing semi-opaque glass wall threw shade against its painted artistry as it clattered into Union Station. It chimed faintly through the glass. Footsteps jogged down the stairs near her. Voices echoed from a tunnel that curved around the back of the stairs. The Toronto Rocket Cars on the other side of the glass chimed again as if behind water. Electrically powered acceleration whined. The station became quieter. A distant Flexity Outlook LRV entered its tunnel to Louise's left and far behind her. Cold underground walls echoed screeching wheels. A few customers wandered her way but didn't look at her.