[Sonic] The Last Frontier: Ch. 8

During the course of the night, I found myself dreaming of my old life back in Knothole, with my friends, and all the times we shared, whether teaming up against Robotnik or just hanging out.  With every passing day in this new timeline, those memories began to slip away little by little, like I was watching all of it unfurl on a TV screen.  It gave me a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach to think I would likely never see their faces again.  Here I was, stuck centuries in the past in a different part of the world, and the closest thing I had to a friend was the lonely gray squirrel that was curled up on the other side of the bed.  I could only imagine how she was feeling about all this, minding her own business in her quaint little frontier town until the notice came that threatened to erase her town from existence.  Somehow our quest for answers had taken these two strangers hundreds of miles away from that place, in an upscale city hotel, sleeping in the same bed.  I'm sure it would've been an awkward sight to an outsider, but neither one of us seemed to mind, and I'm pretty sure that it had something to do with how we each reminded each other of someone else we knew.

*BRRRRRIIIIIIIING*
I was yanked out of my subconscious by a sharp sound piercing my eardrums.  In an instant, I shot to my feet, and out of habit, my eyes started darting around the room for the threat.  Sandy shook herself awake from the noise as well, tumbling right off the bed and pulling the sheets down with her.  By the time she untangled herself and stood up, I had already tracked down the source of the sound to a small mechanical clock perched on a nightstand in the corner of the room...apparently alarm clocks did exist in this time period.
"Good gracious, what the heck was that ruckus?" Sandy panted, after I managed to stop the alarm.
"Looks like an alarm clock," I replied.  "I didn't even know it was in here.  The last person to stay in this room must've set that alarm, and forgot to disable it when he moved out."
"An alarm clock, huh?  Y'know, I'd seen ‘em advertised in one of them big-city department store catalogs before, but I'd never bought one myself.  Didn't personally know anyone who had one, neither.  If they're meant to git you up, they shore do their job."

Once the initial shock had worn off, we took a second look at the clock, and realized it was just about the time we'd be waking up anyway.  I walked over to the bathroom sink to splash a little cold water on my face, then helped Sandy finish tidying up the room.  We gathered our meager belongings (for we had only paid for one night's stay), and I followed Sandy downstairs to the front desk where she turned over the room key.  I watched as the clerk gave her two slips of paper upon checking out, which I assumed was a receipt until she started walking towards the in-house restaurant and motioned for me to follow.  (Sandy explained that one was a receipt, but the other turned out to be a voucher for two unspecified breakfast meals.  She seemed just as surprised by it as I was.)
"I hope it's something a little more substantial than a bowl of cereal," I mumbled to myself.
Sandy heard me and looked at me with confusion.  "A bowl of cereal?  What's that?"
I was about to clarify, when I recognized the possibility that breakfast cereals hadn't been invented yet in this day and age, and so I said "It's just something we had back home.  Don't worry about it."

As it turned out, in keeping with the upscale theme of the hotel, the breakfast was substantial, with eggs, bacon, sausage links, buttered toast, and baked beans (which I never considered to be a breakfast food, but then again, maybe it was an Old West thing), and black coffee to wash it all down.  After eating, Sandy and I left the hotel, and I started walking over to the livery where Sandy had boarded Petunia the previous night, but Sandy interrupted me.
"Hold up, Sonic.  Let's just take things on foot for today.  Travelin' all the way to the capital is the most runnin' that Petunia's done in a long time, and I'm amazed she held out this long.  She deserves a day of rest."

It literally made no difference to me since I'd been traveling on foot this whole time, but if Sandy felt like putting her own feet to use for a few hours, I wasn't going to argue.  Together, we walked briskly back to the local headquarters of the railway company, intent on getting the answers we couldn't obtain yesterday evening.
"Let's hope that rude receptionist ain't sittin' at the desk this mornin'," Sandy mumbled.
Unfortunately, upon walking in the lobby, we saw that this was not the case, as she was seated behind the desk, talking with some other visitor.  Several other people were waiting in the lobby's chairs, so we followed their example until the one visitor walked away from the desk.  Sandy stood up by herself to speak with the receptionist about getting our questions answered.  I was sitting close enough to hear most of their conversation: Sandy knew she had to set up an appointment, but wasn't sure of the best person with whom to speak.  The receptionist (who, thankfully, appeared to have a better demeanor this morning than yesterday) asked for a brief description of the reason for the visit, and then recommended the company's public affairs manager, a Mr. Johnson.  Sandy eagerly nodded to set up that appointment, but her face fell when the receptionist told her something else I couldn't quite make out.  Sandy nodded with much less enthusiasm, then walked back over to me.
"So I got us an appointment, Sonic, but...Mr. Johnson's already tied up for the next three hours.  Can you believe it?!"
"Well, Sandy, he's a busy man in a busy company.  Can't expect everyone to just jump whenever it's convenient for you."
Sandy scowled at me, but she knew I was right.  "What do ya think we oughta do in the meantime?"
"If we're stuck waiting for that appointment, we might as well take a stroll around this city," I suggested.  "After all, I've never been here before, and you said you had only passed through once a long time ago, so we ought to seize the opportunity while it's available."

Sandy was clearly upset by this turn of events (and so was I), but I knew that walking around for a while was not only a good way to kill time, but it also gave Sandy something to take her mind off the frustration.  Exiting the building, we turned right and just let our feet and eyes give us a guided tour.  Sandy made a point to keep her pocketwatch within easy reach, and she kept checking it every now and then to make sure we didn't miss our appointment.  Looking at all the different buildings wasn't nearly as interesting to me as I had hoped.  Most were between two and three stories in height, and many of the brick buildings were the same grayish-red color, which made them seem to blend together when they were all lined up in a row.  (It wouldn't surprise me at all if they were all built by the same builders, within the same span of time.)

One of the things I did notice, however, was how people just passed us right by on the sidewalk, as if on a mission.  It was obvious to me that this (relatively) large city had a faster pace of life than the little towns on the frontier.  Something else I noticed, after we'd been walking for about a half hour and traveled down several streets, was the apparent absence of gardens, parkland, or other zoning devoted to leisure purposes.
I actually mentioned this to Sandy, who said "Well, this ain't quite like them cities back East.  This is a city full of hardy, hard-workin' pioneers who break new ground and git stuff done.  Folks ain't got time for rest and relaxation, not if they wanna survive."
I'm sure she was right.  After all, it's not like we were in town for a relaxing getaway.
But then Sandy added "They can have it...it's too fast-paced for me.  I shore wouldn't feel at home in a city like this.  I've always been a small-town gal, even before movin' out west."

I nodded in acknowledgement, looking down at the brick-paved sidewalk.  I mumbled "Yeah, I understand.  I've traveled to a lot of different places in my life, and seen a lot of things, but I can honestly say I never imagined I'd end up in a world like this."
Sandy looked at me curiously.  "In a world like...What exactly do ya mean by that?"
Once again, I realized I came close to letting the truth slip, and I clamped my mouth shut.  My mind was racing to find the first plausible explanation, and after a few seconds of awkward silence, I uttered "Uh...I meant it feels like a different world to me.  Like I said, I've been to lots of places.  Hard to believe it's all on the same planet, no?"
I could tell from Sandy's expression that she didn't buy it.  Fortunately, she didn't push the point.

I quickly changed the subject to our surroundings once more, and after a few additional minutes of walking, we passed by the large railroad station we first encountered yesterday.
I wonder if it'll be any busier this morning, I thought, and I split off the sidewalk to enter through its doors.  Sandy came to a stop and followed me inside, though I'm sure she was wondering what my motivation was.  Sure enough, it was busier: I had to weave my way through the hundreds of people in the station to see one passenger train parked and actively being boarded.  Meanwhile, on the middle track, a different-looking train (probably for freight) was just arriving, with its locomotive belching out puffs of steam and its brakes screeching.
"What's on yer mind, Sonic?  Why'd we come in here a second time?  We already know we're gonna get some answers from--"
I nodded, then answered "I'm just getting a feel for how much traffic is coming through here."  I stepped closer so only she could hear me, as I added "We know there's something fishy going on with the railroad and the ghost towns.  I wanted to see for myself whether this was an actual business people were patronizing, or if the railroad was just a front for something else."
"Come to think of it," she pondered, "you've got a point.  Maybe we were right t' connect the railroad with the ghost towns, but we've got the reasonin' all wrong.  Maybe there's somethin' else bein' covered up by buildin' railroad tracks through empty towns.  We'll have to find that out when we talk to Mr. Johnson at the railroad headquarters.  Indirectly, of course."

I began halfheartedly brainstorming potential ideas, and that's when the age-old motive of money crossed my mind.  Maybe the railroad is charging an exorbitant rate for transportation, and people have no choice but to pay because they're the only game in town.
To find out, I continued pushing through the crowds to inquire of pricing at the ticket booths.  Wooden signs above the cashiers' heads told me everything I needed to know, so I made a note of it and returned to Sandy, who was just starting to catch up.
"Y'gotta stop wanderin' off like that without tellin' me!" she grumbled.
"You're right, I'm sorry," I said.  I then repeated what I'd learned about ticket prices, and asked whether that was a fair amount.
"They're a little high, but certainly won't break the bank," she affirmed.  Then her expression changed to that look of curiosity again.  "You've asked me several times about money and prices and such.  Why does that confuse you so much?"
I was anticipating that she'd ask me this question sooner or later, and fortunately I had a planned response: "Like I said, I've traveled all over the place, and prices vary wildly depending on where you go.  I obviously haven't spent enough time around here yet to get a firm grip on how much stuff costs."
Fortunately for me, she seemed more accepting of that explanation, and said nothing more.

I told her I'd seen what I needed to see here at the station, and together we left, continuing down the road again and keeping an eye out for anything of note.  After turning a corner, we came across a rather short, but stately-looking building with "CITY HALL" engraved across its portico.  Seeing a government building reminded me of our original reason for coming to the capital, several days and several hundred miles ago.
"Sandy, remember that it was the territory government who issued the decree that's evicting everyone from Whispering Gulch.  I know we've discovered the railroad and all, but I still think it's worth our while to locate the capitol building and talk to some people."
"Well, Sonic, the longer we've been travelin', the more I've been thinkin' that maybe the gov'mint ain't really involved.  Maybe the railroad folks forged these letters to sound legitimate and scare people off the land.  But...we'd be doin' a disservice to everyone back home if we didn't explore ev'ry possibility, so we'll check out the capitol building too, after our appointment with Mr. Johnson."

We burned a little more time walking aimlessly around town (in retrospect, we should've used that time to find the capitol building first), after which Sandy checked her pocket watch and decided it was time to return to the railroad company headquarters.  Sandy, fortunately, had been keeping a better mental note of our current location than I had, so getting back to that building came without much difficulty, only having to double back on ourselves once.  We walked into the lobby about 5 minutes before the appointment start, which I personally thought was cutting it a bit close.  As it turned out, however, Mr. Johnson's current appointment was running a little long, so it took 15 minutes of waiting before we saw a tall and lanky human walking towards us.  He smiled warmly and shook hands with us both, then asked us to follow him back to his office.

He led us up one of the fancy winding staircases in the lobby, then down one hall before walking into the second door on the left.  He invited us to take a seat on leather armchairs like the ones down in the lobby.
"It's not often that I get to meet with anthropomorphics such as yourselves," he explained.  "I don't know any personally, and almost everybody employed by our company is human.  As public affairs manager, I believe it's important to get feedback from all kinds of people who depend on us to fulfill their transportation needs.  We at the Harrington-Morgan Railway strive for the highest degree of customer satisfaction."  He paused for a moment, then asked "So how may I be of help?"
Sandy started with "Actually, we aren't quite patrons of your company yet.  We're just here to get some questions answered, at the suggestion of several of yer employees at the train station here in town."

She began establishing context for our questions by telling him the story of how we were from the frontier town of Whispering Gulch, and had traveled away from there on horseback, finding the railroad tracks in White Rock and following them all the way here.
"We had the chance t' talk with the overseer of a construction crew in White Rock, and he told us where the railroad was planning on continuing next," Sandy explained.  "But I'm just not seein' the logic."
"You said you two were from Whispering Gulch?" asked Mr. Johnson.  "To the best of my knowledge, that is one of the towns we plan to service with our railway's southern route when it is completed.  Unfortunately, with the mountain range in the way, building a tunnel will take quite some time and capital, so I cannot make a promise of exactly when we'll be able to reach your town."  He paused again, then, with a smile, added "But you can rest assured that your tedious travel on horseback will eventually be a thing of the past."
Sandy held up her hands as if to dismiss Mr. Johnson's sales pitch.  "That's all well and good, sir, but that's not what I mean.  We were hopin' to hear, from someone in charge, why your company's buildin' a railroad through those particular towns."
Mr. Johnson looked mildly surprised.  "Why does any company make any decision?  It's a matter of economics.  It's the mission statement of the Harrington-Morgan Railway to provide cost-effective transportation, and naturally we seek out areas which serve to bring in the most revenue for us."

"The most revenue?" Sandy retorted in disbelief.  "You're building a railroad to a whole bunch of gh--!"
She quickly covered her mouth before she could blurt out the truth.  She cleared her throat and corrected herself with "I mean, both I and my partner have seen firsthand what's out there on the frontier, and we have our doubts."
Mr. Johnson shrugged.  "I'm not the one who makes the decisions about where we build and when we build; that would be the dominion of the company's executives.  I'm just in charge of public relations and making sure people are happy about it.  I'm sorry for not being able to answer questions to your satisfaction."
Sandy sighed, and stood up.  "C'mon, Sonic, let's go.  I thought we'd be able t' git the facts straight from the horse's mouth, but obviously they ain't willin' to talk."
I took Sandy's hand and got to my feet as well.  I looked at Mr. Johnson as I said "Sorry for taking up your time," and shook his hand once again as we both turned to leave.

But before Sandy could walk out the door, Mr. Johnson quietly called out to get our attention again.  He gestured for us to come closer, and asked that we close the door first.
"You two look like you know more than you're letting on," he said in almost a whisper.
Sandy and I exchanged glances, unsure of what to say to that.
He continued: "You're obviously looking for answers.  I don't know exactly how much you know, but I can probably tell you a little bit more.  Keep in mind that this is completely off-the-record."
His tone certainly got our attention, and we nodded.
"I do know for sure that our southern line was originally planned to head straight south, but the executives changed it in recent months to where it's currently being built."
When I asked why, he answered "I don't know for sure, but from what I've heard around the office, our northern and western routes haven't been bringing in as much revenue as our accountants had expected, and so we had to stretch our budget as much as possible in getting this one built."
Sandy looked deep in thought as she muttered "But there's no mountain range to the south.  Wouldn't it cost more money to build it this way?"
Mr. Johnson replied "It sounds like it would.  I don't know the reasoning for sure.  But a big expense of building a rail line is getting the rights to the land it's built on.  The government owns all the land in this territory that isn't privately held, so we would've obtained construction rights from them.  And considering our tight budget, I'm sure it was cheaper for us this way."

Sandy and I exchanged glances again, already pondering the significance of this information.
Mr. Johnson concluded with "That's all I can tell you.  But understand, this is all based on personal speculation, and I could be completely wrong.  In either case, you didn't hear any of this from me.  I don't want this conversation to leave this office.  I could lose my job."
I asked "So why are you telling us all of this?  Why take the risk?  What do you stand to gain from it?"
He admitted "For a while now, I've had a feeling that something wasn't quite right in this company, but I've been afraid to say anything about it.  Big corporations tend to ruin the lives of those who blow the whistle on them.  I can't afford to lose my job, or worse -- I've got a wife and two kids to support.  But maybe you two can get to the bottom of this.  I wish you the best of luck...I really do."