Funny that even in my fantasies I lose arguments with my mother.
Eventually, the trunk dipped below the cable and widened enough for Rue to crawl on all fours leaving the cable above her. She found herself face to face with one elephantine eye – an eye that was really a window through which the conductor might see.
Rue looked inside, shading out the moonlight with hands on either side of her face. The navigation chamber appeared to be empty. She supposed there was little fear of someone attempting to hijack an elephant train in the middle of an unpopulated jungle.
Rue wasn’t certain at what point her subconscious had decided to hijack the air train – probably while the rest of her argued with her mother. With language and nudity against her, her chances of convincing the crew of her point of view were slim. Plus she was too embarrassed to turn up in front of them making demands, like a barbarian in an orange peel.
So as she continued crawling, she began to plan a theft. She kept in mind Dama’s lessons in this regard, even though such lessons had mainly centred on objects a great deal smaller.
There must be crew somewhere, and the moment Rue started the engines that crew would come and stop her. She needed to uncouple the freight cars that made up the elephant’s body from the locomotive of the elephant’s head. The elephant was made to look as if it were basically dangling from the cable by its trunk but she knew that, in function, sky trains were much like a normal trains, hooked in at multiple points.
Rue crawled up and over the top part of the noggin, wiggling around the point where the head attached to the cable. From there, she manoeuvred down between the massive leather ears.
She lost purchase, swallowed a scream and slid down the back of the head, landing with a jarring thud at the coupling point.
The locomotive was chained and locked with a massive hitch to the freight cars. Rue wished once again for stronger arms or supernatural strength. Barring both, she managed eventually to brace herself between the two sections, and use her legs to lever the hitch up and off its hook. She then uncoiled the massive redundancy chains.
Rue could only hope she managed to get the elephant head moving quickly enough to break away before any crew awoke and reconnected the hitch, or jumped from the car to the locomotive.
Turning to face the head, Rue inched around the side, balancing on a little lip at the creature’s chin, no doubt a remnant from the original construction. It was precarious and remarkably lacking in handholds, but eventually she made it to the engine room.
No doubt the door was easy to open when one was at a station, or even on one of the pole-top platforms. It was not as easy mid-air. The door was directly below one of Ganesha’s ears. Rue leaned in and rattled the handle as quietly as she could while still clinging desperately with her free hand to the elephant’s side. The door swung open so abruptly that she lost her balance and grabbed the ear. Fortunately, the leather was riveted on and held. She dangled there like a Rue-shaped earring, breath caught in her throat. By sheer will, for it could not be ability, she managed to rock and grab the top of the door-jamb and swing inside, closing the door firmly behind her. It was unbelievably reassuring to be safe in the cabin. It took a very long time for her heart rate to subside.
The man who had been sleeping beneath the guidance console woke up and stared at her in astonishment.
Rue could only imagine what she looked like, wearing nothing but a dislodged orange scarf, a reticule that looked like a lily flower, and a monkey charm necklace. Her hair was wild and loose. Her feet were bare and bleeding. Her skin was particularly pale in the moonlight and covered in scratches.
The man did not yell – he merely gaped in surprise and then began to prostrate himself as if she were visiting royalty. Or possibly some religious icon brought to life.
He kept repeating the word “Gauri,” and bowing, then occasionally he would add, “Lakshmi.” In between these, he spewed forth a long string of sentences and cries and possibly small songs or lines of poetry in his own language. His attitude was one of profound reverence. He kept looking from the ground to his own clasped hands to Rue’s face to the reticule about her neck.
I guess I’m a goddess. How is a Hindu goddess in a sky train supposed to act?
Rue smiled beatifically and made a gesture with both hands, a little like swimming, in a crude imitation of the dancers she’d seen at the Cloth Market. Arms like graceful noodles, she instructed herself.
The man gasped at her movement and fell silent.
Rue tried to convince him to rise, fanning her arms up and down in a ridiculous manner, but he seemed disinclined to do anything but kneel and bow.
Unsure what else to do, Rue lifted up her reticule, an object of much fascination. She removed it from about her neck and took out the sparkler.
The man moaned in fear and anticipation, eyes as wide as saucers.
Rue carefully put the flint, tinder, and sparkler aside on the steering column. Those she might need. And then she cast about the cabin for something meaningful.
To one side was the boiler, accompanied by the ubiquitous pile of coal. Rue picked up a small piece of the black and placed it carefully into the reticule, drawing it closed. Making several more of the dancer gestures over the bag with one hand while she held it in the other, feeling like a particularly poor conjuror, she hummed a little ditty. Her mind was so befuddled it latched upon a bawdy favourite of Paw’s pack, “Eat Bertha’s Muscles”. Fortunately, the man kneeling before her was unfamiliar with the tune. Rue twirled three times in place for good measure and then handed the bag of coal to the man, who was kneeling with his hands cupped up in front of him like a beggar.
The man bowed his head, repeating those two words “Gauri” and “Lakshmi” over and over and attempting to hum his own version of “Eat Bertha’s Muscles”.
Rue wished she knew how to say the words “leave me” in Hindustani but, lacking any grasp of the language, she stood completely still with what she hoped was a stern impassive goddess-like expression and pointed to the door.
She didn’t know what she expected. Perhaps for the man to leave by climbing around the elephant cheek the way she had.
Instead, he ran to the door, pushed it open and leapt out.
Rue suppressed an un-goddess-like shriek. She didn’t want to kill the poor man!
She rushed after him, only to see that he had deployed some kind of parachute, which he must have grabbed from near the door. It looked a lot like a large conical parasol. He floated down to land a good distance away, on the other side of the gorge, in the unnamed forest. Rue heard him shout in elation and then the glad tones of “Eat Bertha’s Muscles” wafted up to her. Presumably he was happy with life and the blessings of his holy visitor.