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The Conductor was human, once, a long time ago. It (it hadn’t been a man for a long time) was something of the Silver Line now. It was more of a porcelain doll than anything now, a play thing for the creature of this realm. (Loco, it’s just Loco. Why did it make it sound so impersonal?) It had been a guest of the Silver Line for a long time, one of its first. I had long lost its name, was given a job to replace it. It had been lucky, or unlucky, to work so close to Loco. (It knows it knows Loco. It knows Loco well by now)
Loco seemed to like it, or trust it at least, enough to let it stand on the platform and sell tickets to new guests. It didn’t matter much though, Loco had too much for it to try and escape (or even really want to). It was Loco’s servant after all, perfectly obedient to its boss (master?)’s word.
Loco’s voice was a constant over the intercoms (or in its head, it couldn’t tell anymore), order after order after order. The same grainy voice that it couldn’t help but listen to. It had decided long ago that it was just an effect of the rails. (It did like Loco’s voice though…) No other reason. (That’s a lie, it’s easier to deny though)
Days blur together, as to be expected in a place where time passes differently. (And there was nothing but the looping rails around you) (It was just grey on grey on grey on grey) (It was too dark to make out the silver)
Sometimes he found a kid to sell a ticket to and the Silver Line gained a new guest, and then a new staff member, and then a new car. (Loco never turned it into a car, even after that incident with that father) It had run into a few kids who couldn’t pay, they got to walk away intact. It remembered a few kids like that. It wondered how they were doing now. (It didn’t matter, they could be dead by now) It never learned their names, or maybe it just didn’t remember them. They still had names though, to real people they did. It wasn’t a real person. It didn’t get the privilege to be real or a person.
Loco kept it on the train now, always by Loco’s side now. The children liked it more than Loco (they shouldn’t, why do they have to trust him?) so Loco used it to speak to them. Loco fed it the words and it parroted, like a good bird. (Choo-choo abandoned it, abandoned them) Loco played with it more now. It didn’t know what to think of that. (It loved it. It loved being Loco’s favorite)