Twilight

The train hovered above its single rail, waiting for me to board.

I had never intended to return, of course. The train's destination held too many memories for me, too many enemies. The train's destination was, quite frankly, the last place on Earth I wanted to see. Last place in any of the planetary colonies, as well.

However, while I have heard it said that a man can forge his own destiny in this world, especially here, in what was once called the Land of Opportunity, I submit that a man's destiny might be forged but a man's destination is not always so sure.

Nevertheless, I boarded the train without hesitation nor trepidation, for I knew even then that while I might not choose to return to that place of memory, I would succeed in my endeavour no matter the cost.

I had been telegrammed a week previous, a cryptic message sent by one I once considered a friend but whom time and circumstance had estranged. The telegram read

Night and Day. Man and Woman. Good and Evil. Light and Dark. Humans obsess over duality. But light can obscure and darkness reveal. Seek Twilight.

It was no code that we had once shared, nor had word reached my ears that my former friend had succumbed to madness, so it had to be a direct message. It was up to me to decipher its meaning.

But to decipher it I would need to understand its context, and that meant returning to Trinity.

The last place Jack Bastard wanted to go.

I boarded the monorail, its electric hum a lullaby to entice me, seduce me, but I would not be so easily duped. Many went to Trinity with the excitement of profit to be made or pleasures to be savoured, but I knew the City of Souls for what it was - a trap for the unwary.

It would not trap me.

I spent the long ride from Flagstaff to Trinity in quiet meditation. No one shared my cabin, and any who sought entry would clearly see the Praetorian pass I had hanging with deliberate obtrusiveness from my satchel. A forgery, of course, but casual inspection from five feet away would convince anyone of its validity. And no one wanted to share a cabin with a Praetorian.

A number of hours later I was in Trinity, its monolithic midcentury blocks of concrete and steel squatting in the surrounding alien elegance, the myriad windows reflecting the setting sun in shades of bloody crimson, royal purple, liquid gold. Beside them, the wrought-iron buildings of the daemonites drinking in the light, the crystal spires of the celestines glittering jewel-like in the early evening sky.

Hard to say which buildings represented the most danger. The daemonites wore their inhumanity on the surface, unlike the beautiful celestines, or even the human inhabitants of Trinity, who may or may not have long ago rendered up their humanity for gifts or boons or boredom.