Broken shards of light reflect off dark metal; soon the brightening sharpens intotwin steel eyes fixed in an unblinking stare. Rolling and rumbling intensifiesinto a grinding roar and rises to a shrieking squeal. The subway breaks from thetunnel, motion and energy amid dim dank dirt. Grey and blue suits impatientlyclutch at leather briefcases as it grudgingly slows. Faces pressed against plateglass flash past, snapshots in pale colors against neon backgrounds. The carapacesplits, suits hurry rush shove to press together against the glass; men inwing-tipped shoes jockey for position near the door, better to gain valuableseconds in their rushing. Speed is the virtue. Spouse and kids, food and sleepawait in apartment-townhouse-duplex condo.

United in their commuterconsciousness, they feed sleep travel work in cycles of sameness: work, return,recharge, repeat, redo, rerun. React. To escape melding into one they withdrawinto cubicles of isolation, hiding from the oversoul in private thoughts sharedby all. Recalled pinstriped memories in memory's disjointed continuity, loves andhopes cherished in the pine boxes they will be buried in, ambitions fears hatredsnourished to black flowering all replace open conversation. Because nothing needbe said; in commonality they know what is felt. They rustle papers, folding andturning and reading, erecting a thin barrier.

The train escapes from thestation, moans and rattles to move again. Rejoicing in the electricity of itsspeed, it rules the tunnel void, featureless lifeless walls where it alone lives.The commuters stare listlessly at the nothingness, watching and waiting for thelights marking the next station and home.

Death, and we all getoff.