Track Switch - Double Traction
by Celefin
The operator pulls me out of my pointless brooding.
“Mademoiselle Nightline?”
I have to smile at how purposely formal he sounds. “Oui, honorable monsieur Cheval?” I can almost hear him smile in the short pause that follows.
“You’re good to go in five minutes. Have a nice night.”
“Thanks,” I reply and look out onto the tracks again. “Alright, Trax.” I sigh deeply. “Since I didn’t do what I should have done and call Irek, let’s at least have a good night together.”
The traction control screen flickers for the blink of an eye.
I give it a long look. “I’ll… take that for a yes?”
Nothing.
Of course nothing! Get a grip.
Thankfully, the shunting signal in front of my train chooses this moment to switch from violet to white. Cannot help but feel a slight disappointment though. I push the throttle.
My verdict about the twin engine setup after a few seconds? Wow. I did not expect to start such a heavy train with such smoothness. Did not even get the moment where the engine takes the full weight on the coupling. Hardly any vibrations.
The hum of Trax’ inverters increases in fine melodic progression as we pick up a little speed while navigating the maze of Gevrey-Chambertin. I pat her console. “Yes, tell him how it’s done.” Him? I have already categorised the DB engine as male. Oh dear.
It takes a lot of switches to braid the sixty tracks of the main track field together, an endless procession of shunting signals. Like glowing buoys on a glittering sea of steel, guiding us through the main field and the secondary departure yard.
A small roadbridge where the sea turns into a river narrow enough to cross. A flashing yellow signal gives us permission to proceed onto the mainline approach, and Trax hums. Almost excited. I smile.
The train sways over the last three sets of switches and we do not even have to wait this time. Another yellow signal, cautiously inviting us out onto the mainline at sixty kilometres an hour. More switches up ahead, albeit gentler ones designed for higher speeds.
The noise of the traction motors increases to rival that of the inverters, and Trax hums with the held back power of two locomotives. I think if she were a pony, she would be grinning. Well, I am. I imagine her screens to grow brighter and more vibrant, the triple headlights burning a brilliant white.
The tracks turn to the northwest, into the southern industrial estates of Dijon. Throttling down even more as we pass another shunting yard, and the tracks take a sharp bend to the east right after.
There is a large SNCF maintenance complex next to the tracks to the north, rows and rows of wagons and locomotives waiting on the sidings. ECR pays for their services. I pat Trax with a wing. “You meet any nice engineers there?”
She hums.
“Don’t make me jealous.”
Fifteen minutes and many bends and bridges later we finally reach the outskirts of the railway labyrinth that is Dijon. There is a green light up ahead where the double track turns to the northeast. Block free.
I feed the two engines, slowly pushing up the throttle and relishing the feeling. The DB locomotive’s weight takes most of the swaying of the wagons, acting as a buffer to Trax. Smooth. Oh so smooth.
Straight and flat through the grey landscape, alone on the track and accelerating evenly, Trax beginning to sing. I spread my wings and-
“Hey!”
-and a small but noticeable jolt. What the hell was that? Trax has stopped singing. Instead her inverters sound… aggravated? I sing a little tune in the voice I reserve for her while giving the screens a worried glance.
My intonation probably suffers due to that, but Trax does not seem to mind. The engine noise evens out again. All systems appear in perfect working order, apart from a brief flicker of a screen.
Shortly after passing the town of Saint-Julien the track turns due north and becomes a straight line all the way to the horizon. A little later we even out at a hundred and twenty kilometres an hour.
A faint point of light in the distance grows into the headlights of the regional express between Dijon and Nancy. I squint against the glare and wait for the whump when our two bowshocks meet.
I can hear it and feel it in my chest, but it hardly causes any vibration. With a smug grin spreading on my muzzle I realize we have too much mass for that in double traction. Oh yes. The other driver and the passengers sure felt that.
“Well done you two,” I say, and pat Trax on the console.
There are some soft clicks and she begins to sing again.
Jolt.
***
At one in the morning we reach Toul, a beautiful town situated a little west of Nancy, nestled in between forests, old vineyards, and the dark waters of the Moselle. An imposing cathedral rises over the medieval town center, its illuminated spires reflecting in canals and cut-off meanders of the river.
Now if only I could enjoy it like I normally would.
“How about you just do your damn job?” Ugh. Still five hours to go and these two are grating on my nerves.
Trax has not been singing for the last two hours, despite the beautiful route we are on. At least not the way I am used to and fond of. What she has been doing sounds a lot more like complaining. Or whining. Not sure yet.
The tracks meander with the river, cut through old-growth forest, and cross the stream on ancient viaducts again and again. Constructed a hundred years before anyone here knew anything about my kind. Rails singing of a bygone era.
There are irritating vibrations in every second bend. The feeling of receiving a tiny push while braking, or a miniscule drag when accelerating. All systems are green. I cannot hear any hint of a mechanical fault. Just off notes in the engine noise for no apparent reason.
Also, we are still perfectly on schedule. More so than usual, despite a few minor delays around Neufchateau. Making good time is a lot easier when you have so much power at your hooves.
A flashing yellow signal, switches up ahead.
We join the northbound mainline between Nancy and Metz, crossing the Moselle once more on an imposing stone bridge. Rolling hills, forests, the meandering river. The rhythm of the rails. Beautiful.
And I am so looking forward to my mandatory break in Metz.
***
Management would not be happy if I refuse to drive a train that has no obvious faults. Not at all happy, in fact. So I am spending most of my break double-checking everything. Engine rooms of both locomotives, wheels, disc brakes, visible cabling. Every coupling between every waggon.
Actually sniffing along the whole damn train for any hints of overheated metal from a failing bearing or stuck brake shoe. Really hope that nobody has seen me hovering about, looking like an idiot. Talk about rumours. Batpony high on brake dust or something.
Of course it has to start raining halfway through my inspection.
Trax and Schencker just sitting there now. I am probably projecting, but I think they look just as annoyed as I feel. Dripping wet and glowering at each other. Dammit. To think that I had been so looking forward to tonight.
***
Are we there yet?
Switching voltage systems in Forbach an hour after leaving Metz, about five minutes from the German border. It is pissing down and my engine reminds me of a foal who does not want to eat what is for dinner. I wish I did not have such sensitive hearing. At least I would be able to ignore the constant discordances.
Every system is green. There are no electric or mechanical faults. I am certain about that. Trax is just being a pain for no apparent reason.
“So very sorry, princess. Fifteen kilovolt it is. If you don’t like it, there’s a maintenance complex here in Forbach and another one in Saarbrücken. Want a French or a German mechanic? We’ll call it a night ten minutes from now. Should I call the operator and tell him my train’s faulty?” Sigh. I do not think I have ever talked to her in such a tone. Makes me sad.
There is a new note to the grating noise. Kinda wavering.
“Scrap the both of you,” I add and lean back with a huff.
That shuts her up.
Uhm.
What exactly did I just do?
The smooth hum of a well maintained electrical engine. Nothing else.
Okay. I am losing it. Definitely need more social interaction. Why did I not call Irek? Because I am a pathetic coward that would rather talk to a locomotive than risk, uh, something. What exactly? Oh horseapples, sometimes I really hate myself. Might as well continue down that track.
I drag both of my hooves down my forehead and muzzle. A deep breath. Another deep breath. This is ridiculous. I clear my throat regardless and sit up straight, watching the screens and listening to the idle engine.
“Trax?”
Silence. What else? Idiot.
Silence of the kind of someone not saying anything. Seriously? I lean forward and touch the console with a hoof, listening intently. “How about we work together again?” I say in the softest and most non-threatening way I can muster.
The glow of the traction control screen becomes a little bit brighter for a second. So faint I might not have noticed it without my nightvision. The slightest of change in the background hum of the idle inverters.
I sit back up, a cold sensation crawling up my spine. Shit. Maybe it is because I want, or expect, to notice something. Trick of the mind, nothing more. Looking around in the cabin that does not show anything new at all, does not sound different at all when I call out in a frequency range beyond human hearing.
The softest of clicks from somewhere in the engine room.
I swallow. By the dark mistress of dreams.
I am so preoccupied with dredging through my memories for other instances that could match this situation that I almost do not notice how the signal in front of my train switches from double red to yellow. My hoof feels wobbly when I push the throttle. Watching the newton metre bar creep upwards. Waiting for… something.
“Sifa!”
The robotic voice of the the German train safety control system cuts through my thoughts. Dammit. I push the deadman’s pedal with only five seconds to spare. Pull yourself together Night, this is getting dangerous. Do not cause an emergency braking by forgetting the most basic of basics and get yourself reprimanded like an absolute rookie.
Calm. Down. Trax has not turned into an AI. Or something unfriendly. Whatever it is she has turned into. If she has. Watch the track and the signals and do your job!
The acceleration is as smooth as when I started in Dijon, and Trax’ headlights peacefully illuminate the edge of the dark forest on both sides of the track. Somewhere around here is the German border.
When we cross the Saar river a few minutes later a thought strikes me. Does the Deutsche Bahn engine feel at home in the German system? Am I being ridiculous again? Is Trax unique? Is this even real or a product of my imagination? Still not sure about that.
Oh my stars. I do not think I will ever hop into the driver's seat in any locomotive with the same feeling as before… before this.
“Sifa!”
“Fuck off!”
***
The terrain turns hillier, noticeable inclines become more frequent. Trax sings her quiet songs while the two engines effortlessly pull the heavy load along. Thick spruce forest covers the slopes above the ever narrower valleys. It is pitch black against the soft first light of dawn peeking over the eastern ridges.
Between two tunnels there are headlights on the opposite track.
Even with double traction my train shudders on being hit by the ICE’s bowshock as it whispers past in a white, red-striped flash. I do love hauling cargo, but I do not think anyone can deny that the white queen has a special magic.
Then again, with my recent experience... I grimace. The ICE-3 version of the Intercity Express has sixteen traction motors spread along the underside of the carriages. Same goes for all the electrics. She is probably a real prissy bitch with multiple personalities.
“Sifa!”
Nightline. Get. A. Grip.
***
Murky darkness has turned into twilight when we emerge from the mountain valleys out onto the old flood plains of the Rhine. Every block signal glows green. Straight and flat and a smooth one hundred and forty kilometres an hour.
I spread my wings and glide. The screens glow brighter. Tamed lightning in her song.
Back in Mannheim once again. The rain returns as we crawl over the Rhine bridge and through the vast track fields of the southern shunting yards. Wet steel reflects the soft glow of green and yellow ‘slow’ signals, muted by the grey drizzle.
Early commuter trains glide past us, empty faces looking out through dirty windows painted in diagonal rows of raindrops. The locomotives and railcars all have the personality of a piece of railway ballast. Dead.
I realise I am petting Trax’ console with a wing.
Out onto the mainline again, turning north towards my final destination. One more hour through the first grey morning light and I will be back home. The rain comes back in earnest, the raindrops hammering against the windscreen.
Lightning flashes in the distance, somewhere over greater Frankfurt. Gusts of wind bend bushes and young trees toward the tracks, only to be whipped back by our bowshock. Green leafs blowing past a green signal.
We pass under the A5 and continue in parallel with the Autobahn. Cars swerving in and out between other cars and trucks, and edging past in a low hanging cloud of dirty spray. Semi-trailers buffeted by northwesterly gusts. It is not even rush hour yet and the A5 is nowhere near capacity, but I am already getting stressed just by watching it.
Reaching Darmstadt, half an hour south of Frankfurt. We roll past the cars that overtook us a while ago, now stuck in stop and go. I never see the cause of the tailback since the A5 turns to the northwest while we approach the city centre. I have to smile.
Grey and dull facades of cheap housing lines the northern approach to the central station. I am watching the overhead line sway back and forth in the wind. The rain is pattering on the roof while I am staring at the single red light on the black rectangle before me.
Ten minutes later, the ICE from Stuttgart to Hamburg trundles past, more than thirty minutes delayed already. I sigh. It was going so well. A few moments later the signal switches to ‘slow’, a green over a yellow light. Finally.
North of the city, two more tracks join us from the east and we are back on the river of steel that flows towards Frankfurt. A signal flashing green in the rain, giving us clearance to accelerate back up to one hundred kilometres per hour.
Five minutes later, Trax starts whining again.
“Seriously?” I say with a deep exhale and roll my eyes. She probably cannot see that. I guess.
A train of tank wagons speeds past us on the opposite track.
We pass a rectangular sign of black and white stripes marking a magnetic trigger point. It is part of the system that controls the automatic gate operation of the level crossing up ahead. The only one of those left on the whole route between Mannheim and Frankfurt.
Whine whine whine.
“Will you stop it?!”
A small jolt and then a soft vibration joins the dissonance.
I see a warning light on the electric brake system controls flickering on and off. I do not like this. I am just about to say something when Trax’ inverters start to scream and half of the console’s lights flash red.
Adrenaline floods my system as I flatten my ears against my skull. It looks like Trax is trying to use the regenerative brake on her own, her wheels screeching on the rails while the DB engine and the weight of the train is pushing her over the wet steel.
Something is very, very wrong. Fuck my beginning career as engine-whisperer, fuck management and sorry to Frankfurt central’s operators. I am done here.
I slam my hoof on the emergency button.
Eight sets of disc brakes clamp down on the wheels of the two engines with a combined force of five hundred kilonewtons. Sand pours onto the rails. The airbrake system depressurises and hundreds of brake shoes drop onto the wagon wheels.
The resulting cacophony is overwhelming. Sparks bathe the trackbeds in flickering light. I grit my teeth and brace myself against the console with both hooves.
Now I can see the level crossing that I am about to block with a kilometre of freight train.
Wait. Flashing warning lights.
There is a car on the crossing. On my track. It has hit another car in front of it and is now stuck under the boom of the crossing gate.
Please no.
No.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
***
I have lost my sense of time, but it appears we have stopped without a crash.
I crack open an eye and look out. Ten metres in front of us there is an ashen-faced man standing behind what I assume is his car, frozen in Trax’ headlights. The rear passenger door is open. He is looking up at me, clutching a crying baby against his chest.
A few hundred metres away, an intercity train screeches to a halt on one of the opposite tracks. My emergency braking maneuver has shut down the whole system. All blocks closed. A throng of people have flocked to the end of the nearby commuter rail platform, all of them staring at us.
By all gods and goddesses.
I slide off my seat, ducking behind the console with its bright screens that are glowing with a red tint. “Thank you,” I whisper.
Nothing.
I touch the console with my forehead. “Thank you,” I force out again against the lump in my throat. Please show me that all of this is not a figment of my imagination. Please show me that I am not mad. Please. Please give me something. Anything. Please be real. “Trax?”
There is a soft hum from the engine room, a modulation that I have never heard before. Screen luminosity and colour return to normal. A series of soft clicks.
I reach up with a shaking hoof and flick the switch to retract the pantograph.
Trax whispers something through the faint noise of compressing springs and scraping metal. It sounds concerned. Soothing. She settles down and goes to sleep. Lucky her.
I stand on wobbly legs and take the two steps to the door. It takes two tries to open it. A gust of cool wind blasts back my mane and forelock and drives raindrops into my face, but it does not matter. Cold is good right now.
The wind makes my landing less than elegant and I almost slip on the wet ground. Flashing blue lights reflect on the nearby station’s walls, the emergency services are arriving. Good, someone please take responsibility here because I feel like I am about to faint.
I just want to go home. Call Irek. Or Penny. But I will have to talk to the police first I guess, and whoever else needs it as well. Craning my head and blinking rain out of my eyes, I look up at my girl.
She just sits there. Unblemished. She just saved a life. Two lives. I do not know how, but I am absolutely certain of that. Without her trying to brake, I would never have hit the emergency button before it would have been too late. And absolutely no one is ever going to believe me.
My ears flick at a faint sizzling sound, like raindrops falling into embers.
I look at the wrecked car on the crossing and then back along the train but I cannot see any flames or flickering light. None of the deck coach carriers have derailed. The cargo is where it is supposed to be. No smoke in the air either, only the faint smell of hot metal coming from the disc brakes.
But there is still that sound, like the hiss of water droplets falling into a hot pan.
From above me.
I slowly turn my head and look up at Trax again. Then I see it. There, airbrushed onto Trax’ door as a birthday present and still without so much as a nick in the paint.
My mark.
Every drop of rain that hits it immediately turns into a puff of steam. Water running down from the roof evaporates before it even comes close.
There is a spot of scorching hot metal right under my cutie mark.
Trax’ mark.
Build something big and complex enough, surround the idea of it with stories and little certainties, and then add just a touch of magic.
That thing will absolutely live.
Magic trains?? Connections between naturally magical ponies and the objects they sympathize with? Magic trains??? FREAK YEAH
I love the cutie mark connection. Really cool. Also do the trains actually get half and hour late? And routinely? In Japan, where I live now, thirty seconds late is unacceptable haha.
Trax, you're a very good train.
Okay. Magic train. I'm in.
Great chapter - I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Can we get one of those bat ponies for Amtrak? On the way back from my grandmother's funeral, the Pacific Surfliner ran over some idiot who decided that the tracks were a great place to go for a walk, and made me miss the Coast Starlight.
9918435
Beautifully put.
In an environment interwoven with magic, narration becomes a powerful force.
9918555
That's the spirit.
Heh... the result of fifteen years of 'running the railways like a business to make service better and cheaper and more competitive'... meaning of course cuts to staff and maintenance and investment. German railways are a shadow of their former glory and more expensive to run than ever before. Conservative politicians' policies' long projected outcome.
Currently only 73% of all long distance trains are punctual (ten minutes delay counts as punctual). Delays of over an hour or complete breakdowns are pretty common. On bad days you're happy to arrive at your destination at all. Functioning toilets and air-conditioning not necessarily included.
The ordinary staff are doing an amazing job of keeping things running in the face of staff shortages, irate customers, obsolete technology and run-down infrastructure though.
Nightline has way too many experiences like this one, cross-border cargo being perfectly on time until she enters Germany. Then it's a lottery. That's why she isn't upset by having to wait for the ICE but merely watches the overhead lines sway in the wind in resignation.
9918648
That she is.
9918682
All aboard then!
9918898
Thank you.
I thoroughly enjoyed writing it.
9919081
Ow... that's awful.
Some years ago my wife got to experience a suicide by train. Some guy jumped in front of the ICE she was sitting in while they were passing a station. Fucking asshole. Luckily never saw the actual result (apart from a tooth on one of the tracks fifty metres away from where it happened). When paramedics are grey in the face you don't want to see the front of that train.
But I doubt a train like Trax would have made a difference... I think she felt the presence of the vehicle on the rails. Maybe they didn't sing properly in response when she sang to them. Don't know if she'd even register someone jumping in front of her. What she would register though is Nightline's resulting extreme distress.
Not gonna go there.
9919498
Huh. Interesting how places differ. Japan's government-owned railway was broken up in 1987 due to mismanagement, fraud, and huge profit losses. The new companies introduced competition, made reforms, and updated technology while making cuts to staff and improving overall efficiency.
Now, previous to the government railway being broken up there were many small privately-owned railways already in existence as well. Instead of subsidizing them the government gave them business and real estate opportunities in exchange for developing rail lines. These companies now have an integrated business of retail, industrial, and business properties with rail, bus, and taxi lines to connect it all together. And it works extremely well. Japan's railways are all almost entirely independent and are the most profitable railways in the entire world.
Honestly, privitization only works if the people are righteous and industrious. There's often other factors too.
9919638
And therein lies the catch.
So the Japanese are actually ponies in disguise.
9919498
I can sympathise. This system sounds painfully familiar. The railways over here are in just as much of a shambles, and are also run as a business - mostly because they are a business. The one part that isn't entirely private is the track maintenance, because the private company that used to handle that in the nineties quickly became so wilfully, dangerously negligent that they had a body count.
Up here in the north, we can at least avoid the problems with toilets failing to work, because a fair number of them still vent directly onto the track.
I seem to remember a joke in the comments of the first Track Switch that any sequels set in Britain would automatically need a Tragedy tag. This is accurate.
Eerie train there - Nightline definitely rubbing off on Trax.
9919467
People managed to get used to magical ponies. I think a fair number of them would believe Nightline when she said Trax has gained semi-sentience.
9919657
Extremely well-organized ponies with chronic psychological and social issues and rampant suicide. Most of my friends in Japan are Christian though, and they are able to get the balance and perspective they need to deal with these problems.
9919936
Even though it appears we share the same faith, using religion like a pedestal is a bad idea.
A recent suicide-by-train in my town was a young lady in her 20's who went to the same church as me. I knew her for years. Many people at the church thought the same you do and were utterly shocked - they could not believe it.
People are people. We are all human and can get affected by life.
9919926
Trax knows.
And the suggestion that Trax sensed a presence in the line that did not "sing back" in the correct manner is a plausible explanation, as far as magic ponies and trains go.
I like this story.
The way the author places relevant real world material in the story creates a great feel of immersion.
Excellent. :)
Though I do wonder what the difficult earlier in the night was. Just Trax and the other engine having difficulty working together?
Well, finally Nightline has something to write home about! ... she should totally write home to let her family know she is well and alive.
Also, I would like to see a batpony here driving an AVE train in Spain and see what kind of personality does it develop... He/she would also be a great attraction for children, all of them wanting to pet the driver... that actually sounds pretty weird...
9920204
Looking at the chapter title - "Personal Space" I think you may be correct.
Heh heh, semi-sentient engine has her personal space intruded by another coupled engine.
I can imagine the upsets and "talks" between Nightline and Trax as time goes on...
Very interesting development. I never expected this, but am enjoying it.
9920095
I never said that religious people don't commit suicide or that they have no problems. I get the impression that it was taken that way, however, as you cited an incident where one person you knew commited suicide. What are you trying to say? People do have problems, but that's in spite of religion. Our religion, at least.
If we are of the same faith (I presume you looked at my page), then you of all people should know that it can help people in all aspects of life. Whyever shouldn't I put it on a pedestal? Besides, I'm not talking about religion in general, which is widely varied; I'm talking about the restored gospel. And I'm never afraid to "put that on a pedestal". The Japanese have a highly developed social system, but for most that's all they have and it leaves many people as little more than machines who lose all meaning in life because, well, there is no meaning in working for 10 or more hours a day for six days a week for years and years to maintain your meaningless place in the rigid heirarchy. It's empty. And for many who find faith, it gives them hope and joy amid the grind, as well as a knowledge of what matters. That's all.
9918435
9920098
I think of this as Nightline's soundtrack: Could be enough/If only we are pilots/Once a day. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xF9hC0VLAGg
Trax is best Train. I wonder if she's sentient only when Nightline is driving. Another good update on the book. Thanks Celefin.
9919837
Not sure about the 'rubbing off'... I have the impression that Trax is developing her own personality. Bit early to tell though.
9919926
People are not really used to ponies in this setting - everybody knows about them, but comparatively few have actually met one or even interacted with them. Pony magic especially is still a very alien concept to most, even if that of course will change over the next years. It even took Nightline a long time to realise/accept that something was happening, so I think she's right to expect that no-one will believe her. In her view (and she isn't infallible or has the most well developed self-esteem), that 'no-one' includes ponies, because she's never heard of anything like what just happened. And how would she? No electronics or computers in Equestria.
Of course there will also be many people who'll have the opposite viewpoint and are convinced that pony magic can do absolutely everything imaginable and would lap up stories like Nightline's. And go on to produce a dozen conspiracy theories based on it. Chemtrails? You ain't seen nothing yet.
9919936
Yeah, the dark flipside of the perfect society. I'm sure something like it also exists in the bigger Equestrian cities though. Not in the colourful documentaries shown on Earth though, at least for now.
9920098
Thank you for the praise, I enjoy going to some lengths here. And yes, Trax knows. Kinda.
9920204
You are correct. Trax had to deal with an engine that got a tiny little bit of personality (enough to change from an 'it' to a 'him') thanks to being coupled to her, both physically and through the control systems. Just enough to become a real pain in the buffer to work with instead of just a useful source of more horsepower. Basically a stubborn and most of all dumb mule. Who probably did the digital equivalent of talking back to the sensible adult and then sulking when put in its place. :b
9920444
Yes, that's why the title is what it is :)
Nightline will for the first time in her career not be looking forward to a twin engine setup in future. For what it's worth, neither will Trax (in any way she might be able to 'look forward' to something. I don't know yet).
9920318
I don't know the AVE trains and therefore have no opinion on the personality they might evolve. The German ICE is a bitch. Multiple bitches in one train, actually. Would the AVE engine become possessive and/or jealous of the driver because of the kids' attention? Fun.
9925821
Thanks for the praise, you're welcome!
It certainly was that way. Now that she's collected enough magic to result in the cutie mark event, I honestly don't know yet. Could be that that has changed now.
9919666
Yep, the franchise system *eyeroll*
Huge success. For some. Not the taxpayers and customers though...
I remember how the tracks in Inverness station looked when I lived there... because people will still use the toilet regardless of where it is. Yuck. I read just recently that several companies (including Scotrail) asked for and got an extension for the period in which to make the toilets a closed system. 2023 or something like it. Unbelievable. Where's the EU imposing rules when you need it.
That was me.
Ah yes, Railtrack. *shudder* Privatisation at its very finest.
Come to think of it, in the upcoming EU legislation of the fourth railway package, the British franchise system is pretty much defined as the goal. UK lobbied heavily for it and got its wish. Thanks for that, Cameron.
9925848
There's two sides to every coin indeed. But documentaries! That would be fun. I imagine the ponies have seen films of earth and wonder what they would think about our world. My initial thought is that they would think it looks a bit scary, but Equestria itself is a quite hazardous place with regular impending doom. We have no controlled weather, but they don't have that everywhere either. Our world is very wild, but at least it's predictable.
9925854
Ah, thanks. :)
9925857
I wonder what'd happen if Nightline spent long enough driving an Earth steam locomotive, not that I expect she'd be eager to. After all, steam locomotives seeming to have individual personalities is already a well-noted phenomenon.
I'm also wondering why this (emergent locomotive sapience) doesn't seem to be a common thing in Equestria, based on Nightline being surprised by it. Might be that it depends on a flow of magic through the locomotive, and while there's some in Equestria, the ambient pressure is high enough and/or the external disturbances common and strong enough to prevent some crucial threshold being crossed. On this Earth, the flow would be out from the driver through the locomotive to the low-pressure environment beyond, steady and reliable and without external disturbance clouding the effects of the driver and the engine on it.
9925874
Oh, god. What sort of person can look at this mess and call it any sort of goal, and who put them in charge?
Oh. Right.
Him.
9926299
I must say I really like your theory, but my original idea was much simpler and can be summed up like this: sophisticated and complex electronics and digital control systems resemble a nervous system and a brain. Magic can do weird things to that in low, constant doses over extended periods of time.
Every steam engine on the other hand has a distinct personality and feels alive from the very first day. But it isn't a person like what Trax has kinda evolved into, or at least not one you can actively communicate with. But thanks for the input, I may get around to write about that in the story now.
9939959
Ah, thanks and thanks, and you're welcome. :)
ETCS describes the interaction of track and train. The German system is LZB. Its predecessor PZB/Indusi would do a penalty brake if the train ran a red signal so it wouldn't enter an occupied block. However with faster trains, the blocks would need to grow to an impractical size. ETCS can enforce a speed-dependant minimum distance, eliminating the need for fixed-size blocks, which means slower trains can much more closely follow another, thus increasing throughput. Incidentally, this means that if a train is running fully under ETCS, the signals are reduced to mere decoration, but I concur they work better for the story.
If you want to waste a few hours on wikipedia, Train Protection System is a good starting point.
Sifa is designed to interact with the train's operator, independent from any track-based system.
9939959
There is another story with a similar thing happening with trains in the group this one is part of if I remember correctly it had Celestia going to new York for pizza.
Also on the mention of steam engines we have one that is still running to this day down here in Victoria Australia which is an attraction called puffing billy, for some reason this story and the other one I mentioned pulled up memories of when I had a ride on it.