笔下无百言, 胸中藏万卷.
Wouldn't it happen that many things we take for granted, no matter what we have to go through to experience the ordinary, happens to have a life of its own?
"Utility".
The long black in Forth's hand was never about taste. His knowledge of Cortado was a passing thought, it was never that deep. Yet, even if he did not care about the minute bitterness, it is there. It was never "Passion" in the first place.
Maybe there has been such a time where he himself has muttered some love to the choice of coffee as he first got high on the energetic brew.
But if it were as euphoric as the first ride, it shouldn't have reached four shots in a blank canvas of plain water.
That time was long past.
People do have their passion reignited, or found, though. Many such cases.
Katalyn Karikó was working in Hungary, in a laboratory that could be described as no more than a jury rigging cave.
She betted every possible bet on her life for her passion, to run to somewhere brighter, only to be defiled by every possible play in the deck of fate.
She couldn't have brought herself to face the microcentrifuge tubes again if she didn't argue with her colleague at the Xerox machine.
Only then she learned that her perspective matters.
It did.
That's why we have mRNA vaccines now, still in the market as of today, stronger than ever.
Even if the University of Pennsylvania weren't at all sorry about it, painted a great phony light of it being her struggles.
But…
The thing is, he is the one who decided that Verdant is not good enough for himself.
He is still alive and free, and that's what matters.
His legs are not, though.
After the four decided to break the train's Code of Conduct, they sat at the table with a now empty teapot and their drinks.
A milk carton was folded into an accordion, clear handiwork of someone who drank too much in this format.
Weirdly enough, amidst the talking circle, after Morrissey chugged the whole pot of English Breakfast, he fell asleep, using Forth's thigh as a pillow along the long bed that was the fluffy seat.
"You're not missing anything here except the free meals. Anywhere would suffice if you don't like the contract." Anything but the contract indeed.
The attendant spoke out, the VISAI emblem of a duckbill stood out as he spoke of his own school.
"Now that I think about it, the two geniuses of my years are dropping out against the new ANGREIFER policies." Geniuses calling others geniuses? Funny.
It does not help at all that most crème de la crop are wealthy people, not that he is not one, his parents are semiconductor engineers in Leuven.
"Policies? There's more than a clause?" He took a deep sip of his coffee.
"What clause? You guys had one about the game this year?!" Apparently the seniors don't know.
The old rose drunkard swiftly swayed her hair back after hearing the discussion.
"It's something beyond you two. Don't ponder why, ponder who." Ada finally spoke, her glass of St. Agrestis empty.
Her name is Adriana. The drunkard turns out to be a major computer and aerial defense nerd.
Of which, her nickname came before her passion, which is a little known programming language by the name of Ada, used by her mother-side family enterprise to send targeting missiles into the stratosphere.
Adorno Enterprise.
It seems that VISAI only attracts hard science and inconceivable people. You'd have to be in Bangkok attending the one and only Triam Udom to experience general arts and otherwise, and even that is rare.
The VISAI Arts Class is no place to experience this. It is a generational niche. Sending practical designers who happen to know advanced bioengineering to Bartlett, Polimi, and NUS alike. They then go to big firms, design the Venice of the East and many unconventional things, then jampack people to live in them.
Those are just what he knew, that these people are a crazy bunch.
Ones crazier than him, all with meaning in their life fully thought out.
"What about the Arts? Are there dropouts?" He has to care.
Too bad, the assignments for contract finalization of the Arts class are for another day.
"Yes, there are. I don't know much, though. You know how it is."
The talk was abruptly cut short by a chime, the attendant swept up all the glasses and pot, then rushed past them.
"Next station, Kaeng Koi Grand Junction, Saraburi. The train will approach the platform in two minutes, please mind your belongings and conduct."
"Anyone dropping off? The train's about to be packed so I may go back to my seat." The train conducting system is as intuitive as it gets.
The Grand Junction allows for disparate routes to connect up directly to Chiang Mai, which means, trains up north are moving at a regular frequency of once every 40 minutes. Did he mention that there were no breaks or rests? The whole system is operated 24/7.
"Please stay. All of these seats are quite mine for the ride." Adriana sternly disclaimed.
"Why would you buy 4 seats?" His legs are finally free. Morrissey swiped the bridge of his nose before continuing:
"Caffeine nap." Why would you need one in the afternoon?
This conversation is too chaotic for his liking.
"Well, you already know the reasons." Oh. One could only wonder why another can sleep like a corpse.
Soon enough, the chime rang again, and the deceleration took smooth while to embrace snugly over the platform.
The hustle and bustle was immediate, there was no winter break for the working majority. And outside the Eastern Corridor's housed labourers, this instance is where the empty bogey loses its dust bunnies.
"Twenty minutes, want to lose the stale lavender? Let's walk outside." A clear invitation from one caffeine junkie to another. Forth quickly followed Morrissey out, with Adriana slowly tailing along.
The immediate view of Kaeng Koi from the Grand Junction was imprinted in his mind. The platform is shielded with acrylic-like glacial curvature that the vines and woods outside caress all over, the paradoxically dry but humid jolt in the air is certain with a glance of a distant waterfall buzzing through the blend of nature and not.
The deliberate evasion of touching the lands as to not defile can be sensed by seeing the recently watered down, firm, specialized concrete soaking both the sprinkler and the sun.
Karsts of limestone roots, polished by the thousand years of rain that touched the lands in specific seasons, had been here along with the people.
The trio wandered towards a wide risen maple bridge, of which oversees the current downtrot, over to the arching-over-one-another, vine-like sunflower fields that should not exist on jarringly flat landscape, taken place by deliberate terraforming of rocks to soil on uncertain elevations.
The oil of dried sunflowers that fell after one another in a cycle of life permeates the air, waiting for rain to bring the shy breaths to take assigned rest and give the petrichor their duties, but that may not come within the winter.
The distant downhill Railway Museum houses a vision through the past, when the all-ancient "Kaeng Khoi" was on thin lands and assured simplicity, now the Grand Junction could only exist near elevations such as this, bordering Lopburi and overseeing a siege of these sun-seeking plants from all sides.
Morrissey looked out the tight rope fences, raised but one with the scenery.
"Whoa… haven't been here in ages. The sunflowers weren't this much, no?" It indeed wasn't this much. If he hadn't gone back the same way he came, by van, he would've missed the growth to which common people wouldn't notice. Even the white collared office workers who regularly use the rail on the weekends wouldn't have seen the disproportionate growth he would've been, unseen for years.
So this is what his parents would've felt like seeing him. The same sunflowers, just more abundant. Still the spoiled crybaby.
Speaking of which, he better have a call with them. Signalling Morrissey and Adriana to wait out, he walked past into a vantage point, dialing his phone.
"Ah! Foremost! What brought you to my number?" His best kept secret is rolling off his father's tongue like it was Tuesday.
"Hello dad, mom's there or no?"
"Yeah, she's here. Want to talk to her?"
Tears pooled on the corners of his eyes.
"Yes? Well, pull her in. I want to talk to you both."
…
"Done."
"Darling, need something?"
"Alright, I have something to admit…"
The uh-huhs of the other side is with anticipation and unconditional acceptance.
"I declined the scholarship."
…
"Well, it's not the end of the world, son. We know you have plans if you're this brazen." His father laughed.
They… understand? Sounds of sniffling emerged from his within. He really is… a crybaby.
"Yes… I do." He steeled his voice, he needed this done, then he continued:
"Please sell off my penthouse. I am heading to XDC." Like a spoiled rich brat.
Another wave of silence emerged.
"Can do. Thank you for telling us, though. If you are really heading to XDC, are you sure? The penthouse's worth does not even cover a year of living there?"
"Do greet Miss Choi for us once you're there, maybe you can work under her tea shop if you decide to not pursue high schooling, you already finished A Levels, so it's fine." His mother added, before his father joined in:
"And maybe find some new hobbies once you're out of academia. A break can do well for your psyche."
"I will attend school if possible." Of course he must. Imagine living without social peers.
"Where then?"
"Somewhere in Middleton District."
…
…
…
"Love you too. Bye!" He flicked off the longing, irrational tears beside his eyes.
The murmurs of a nearby fleet of people dressed in the same windbreakers reverberated throughout the area as he finished his call, talking hushed amongst the five few.
As Forth crouched to pick up a dead sunflower, he veered his ears' senses outward.
These folks are a hundred percent dubious.
"We're called again, eh? This is the second time and the year has just started. The Devil's Brigandine is clearly wanting something done."
So they are 'undercover' Hanoians.
Specialized but broadly conscripted group of union militants. Must be a group of friends who can't live without one another choosing this path. Just like the cardigan goof, they do not care about the sun.
Hanoians are quite warm, it seems.
"The first time was a false alarm. We were just utilized to sit prepared along the Ningming County riverbanks, along the same feels as here without the sunflowers. We get paid anyway, though." Pretty buff. It seems he's the only quite-serious guy in the group of moderately trained individuals.
"The seventy-seventh regiment, from what I've heard, got sent to survey around Shantou, this is overblown it seems."
Great, it is too paranoid for the Union and Tianyuan to be working together this coordinated, a major time it happened was with the Princeps Group, a capture that aggravated the Raskols and created the Devil's Brigandine.
"Did you know our regiment just filled a game in as a training requirement?" Huh? Is it that game?
Most times over three decades the conflict and calls have been false alarms and eventual compliance, though.
He walks back to the place where the three were standing.
Forth signaled to the two that it's time to get back on the train, the dead flower stays dead beneath the departure from Kaeng Koi.
…
"For I… Can't help… Falling in love… with you." A majestic vocal performance indeed, but why is this suited man singing in Adriana's bought window seat?
A man clad in the golden child of a corporate poster type blue plaited attire was laying with his eyes covered by his own bowler hat. Miss Drunkard has gone to the train's restroom, so this problem must be resolved real soon.
"Like a river flows, surely to the sea… Darling so it goes…" He looked at Morrissey's confused face.
"Some things are meant to be…" A reverend aura blanketed the area. An evil reverend, some would say it can drive one to insanity.
"You are not meant to be… Here." Adriana, with her rosy hair restyled in blunt bangs. Her medicinal perfume, a weird choice, permeated the air in an overbearing mask and complemented the bitter orange breaths descending from her habits.
"Ah, sounds like an Adorno. Must be dreaming." Miss Adorno signaled for Forth and Morrissey to sit. Great, another weird person entering my weird life.
Then, with a swift flutter of the trench coat she was adorning, the addendum of a low-caliber firearm shocked the table.
"It's rude to stalk the heiress, who are you exactly?" She said in a bourgeoise and amused tone, pressing the muzzle hard against the polymer of the bowler.
A glint of brown swept up, both gaze and lace.
"Whoa! It's really an Adorno, what the hell?" The man raised both of his hands out, clearly surrendering to the barrel against his dome.
Great, a scene straight from Kingsman and Reacher.
"Not buying it." Her left hand disappeared in a swift blur.
Sounds of disrupted gulping echoed in the large cubicle.
She's gripping the man's neck, hard.
"G- God. It's my s-"
"What? It's your what?"
"See… See… Sea…"
"There's not a beach nearby, stalker." Okay? This just turned really weird.
"I think he's saying seat, Ada." Morrissey glanced over to his face with yet another confused face today, as if the scene was too absurd.
Adriana swiftly brought out her phone, leaving the man's neck alone, swiftly tapping and swiping through various apps, then her face turned red.
The man gasped and coughed in his constricted and inflamed throat.
"Alright, it's my fault. This man is supposed to be here. My Ledger funds ran out on the fourth seat, it declined and assigned this man here instead." Oh… She just assaulted a man going on his commute.
She cleansed her hand with a spritz of isopropyl before continuing:
"But that does not excuse the fact that you know my identity." She quickly placed the gun back in her coat, where is this woman from to be holstering guns in public? If a militant sees it we're dead to rights.
"You're of the Adorno Enterprise, everyone knows the BOWING merger. A dark horse sweeping up an old giant is the investment of a lifetime!"
"So you're an early investor? That was 8 years ago." The man looked no more than 16.
Great, another rich person to join the pampered crew.
They introduced themselves then after, the man is named Wells Allister, a real Englishman, he hoped. He indeed invested a marginal sum of around 20,000,000 Yew, which was historically very strong, acquired around 1.3% of Adorno, and gained upwards of a hundred times return.
The man clearly has some good eye for insider activities, as most of his investments that were forced to be articulated to the group have massive uplifts, but none as big as the one in Adorno. The gains were never really the monetary value, dividends alone covered the man's life thus far.
It's the voice the man has in getting what he wants.
Besides, his selling would cost a cascade of problems, if not for private dealings that don't hit the market.
"I apologize for my conduct, a person as esteemed as you…" In a scene never fitting in Forth and Morrissey's mind, Adriana is actually sorry.
"Nopey-no. It's fine. I'd be that paranoid too if I thought I bought four seats for myself and a man singing Elvis appeared to violate the ticket." Great, so you know what you were doing, blessing our ears one syllable at a time.
The train's chime once more invaded their private space.
"The train is exiting the platform, please mind your position on board. Next Station, Terminal Station, Chiang Mai International Airport."
Guess we will have to listen to lessons in economics for the next three hours.
"You're on high school summer break as a senior, right?" Forth posits a question that he does care about.
"Yeah, why?"
"Where do you study ? With this much capital in hand, I think school is quite dangerous for a person like you, no?" It's the truth. Many times being the absolute best in a world of adult can land you in purgatory.
"St. Paul over in XDC."
…
Are there no normal people here?
I am not even going to speak about St. Paul.
"Alright, then you will take the train to Xiangzhou after Chiang Mai, right?" It's a valid question, the crosscountry highway is quite the arduous and wasteful path. Even rich people won't take the car.
"Not even close, Bombardieri directly after this ride."
Holy fuck.
"You say what? I should've choked you to death then!" Adriana was seen as genuinely mad. Well, guess it's two HNWIs talking.
Airspaces are generally not taken for the route of choice.
Coordinating air defense in an age where all don't trust all is a fool's endeavor, even one trip can cost upward his penthouse. Even Devil's Brigandine has nuclear artillery.
"What do you mean you invested in us but use our greatest rival's tech? Are you nuts? What would that look like for the investors?"
"Well, what would my public investments look like? It's all sunshine and rainbows."
Meeting him is probably the train's allotting system calculating his personal parameters and association to Adriana herself leading him to be here.
It can be an entertaining ride, then. If this is the norm.
…
…
…
Back to Chiang Mai at last.
The four of us sat at the footnote of Doi Suthep, invading well into Chiang Mai University, this is the Sanctuary Capital of Southeast Union.
The safest, most vibrant, and most environmentally strict capital in Southeast Asia.
The skies above shimmers with the Air Defense Pylon. Ripples upon ripples in an aurora pitch, the temperature is getting to his t-shirt.
The most important thing is that Wells' flight here got delayed, so they sat in front of a Minutestop and shared a pint of ice cream in the late of night.
"Whose idea was it to eat ice cream at 8 degrees celsius?" Morrissey coughed and dug another spoonful into his mouth.
They watched over the grandeur of the sacred pond from a far, not daring to hog the edge of the pier.
"Wells, well. It's the only thing I have investor benefits on right now. I don't want to pay full price for anything right now. XDC meals and social meetings will burden my wallet later." Spoken like a true shrewd, Allister.
Will this peace last for as long as it does in our departure? Forth held a small shower caddy in his hand, clearly planning on taking the train the whole way to his destination.
These are genuinely interesting people. These are people with a flaw of their own, even if they are all stuck up rich kids of various depths.
It's not like they are relentless, blatant young masters webnovels painted in the most spoiled, rich and wealthy to be.
Well, except Morrissey here.
"Where are you going after this, Mort?" He guessed he could call him by the nickname for once.
"Luzon. I have always been interested in Aerospace and the initiative with Malaya has opened the best place for me to be in." Philippines. Morrissey coughed another time before continuing:
"How about you?"
"Middleton." He heard a deep laugh coming from Wells.
"Middleton? I know what kind of man you are."
Huh?
"Well, Wells will see you at the sports fair." Allister took a look at his phone before bidding them farewell.
What?
One is gone.
"Don't you know that St. Paul has a competition with the only school in Middleton?" Adriana laid her back against the steps of the ladder and followed her gaze along the edge of the skies still bright by the Pylon.
Of course, he didn't.
They are tired as all hell, but their respective trains are yet to be coming any time soon.
"You know what?" Miss Drunkard continued:
"If you know what the Pylons are actually doing, you would be more interested in why we don't know what we don't." As if deliberately speaking in Wells' absence, she splurted out a cryptic note.
"Earth is already changing, and the thing that you deem unimportant can be as important as it all is."
"I like you people, as little as we have spent time with each other, we will meet again very soon."
With that, Adriana went and disappeared in the dim of lights, back to her mysterious ordeal without giving a care or signal to what we are conversing.
These days has been pointing to him that Earth is a pressure cooker for something, something that has been permeating itself for long and only lashed its symptoms as of now.
A trainwreck of all things unrelated.
He would have to board a train amidst the terrorism.
ANGREIFER, what even is it? Why does the general populace not get to know such a product that seemed so commercial the same time as we do?
And now, this girl is affirming and creating loose ends to all that is known in this world?
I guess we'll see it through and through.
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