“I like that sound.” The stranger sat down across from Jacob.

They were both next to the doors, in the seats that were supposed to be reserved for the disabled or elderly.

“I’m sorry?”

“The chime. When the doors close. It’s so polite.” He looked at Jacob and smiled. His face was older than his eyes. They were gray and sparkling.

“Uh. Yeah.” This man was breaking protocol. Head down, no eye contact. That was the polite way to travel.

“You ride this line a lot?” Jacob was getting very uncomfortable with the fact that this man wouldn’t stop talking.

“Nah, mine broke down or something.”

“That’s unfortunate.” The stranger leaned down, elbows on his knees. He looked  tired when he wasn’t smiling. “Listen, some things are about to happen. Things that you aren’t going to understand.”

“Look, man…” Suddenly there was not nearly enough space between them.

“Shut up, Jacob.” The man was staring at the floor. “This is not about you. Well, it is. But only because you fucked up. You’re not supposed to be here.” The stranger stood up and took off his thick, fur-lined, coat. “It’s not your fault, just chance.” An orange, metallic, shirt stretched over his muscles. Ballistic armor wrapped his torso. He pulled a large-bore shotgun out of a holster on his back. “Now, for the next few seconds I want you to ponder some questions. One: how do I know your name? Two: why does no one else on this car care that I am holding a big-ass gun? Three: why don’t the lights ever flicker in these subway cars like they do in the movies?”

The lights did not flicker, they just went out.

“Plug your ears, Jacob.”

A series of still images strobed. White flames of muzzle flashes burned the scenes into Jacob’s retinas. What he saw was impossible.

Smoke trailed off of eight spent cartridges when the light returned. The other people on the car were gone, or weren’t ever there. The stranger was kneeling on something. His shirt’s right arm was ripped. The fabric wove itself back together in a wake of tiny electrical arcs. He stood up, fell back and slouched on the seat across from Jacob.

The whine of platters spinning up came from the the hard drive plugged into the head of thing on the floor.

“Wanted to run away. I don’t blame him, but he fucked up. Got proud. Thought he was better than he was.”

The stranger leaned forward and yanked the cable and drive free.

“And now he’s dead again.“

Tunnel walls opened up into a station. The train stopped.

“Do you know what makes a man great, Jacob? Humility.”

Blood, both black and red, spilled into the track of the doors as they opened.

“You don’t have to doubt yourself. Just understand the relationship between what you can say and what you can do.” The stranger stepped out onto the platform.

There was a polite chime. Then the doors closed.

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