A discussion in the Senior Common Room
Mr Blottisham arrived carrying a railway timetable, a folded map and an expression of considerable displeasure.
"I have been studying these stories," he announced, placing the documents on the table. "And I have reached a conclusion."
Professor Quillibrace looked up from his tea.
"Already?"
"The railway system described in them is completely unfit for purpose."
Miss Stray smiled. "Which railway system, Mr Blottisham?"
"All of them. There are eight stations and not one can be relied upon. Trains arrive before they depart, platforms lead to places that don't exist, passengers are expected to find their own destinations, and in at least one instance there aren't any trains at all."
"An impressive catalogue," said Quillibrace. "You have omitted the possibility that the stories are not primarily about railway administration."
"I rather think that is precisely what is wrong with them."
Miss Stray took the timetable from the table.
"I wonder whether we should begin by noticing that the stations don't all behave in the same way."
Blottisham sighed.
"That is putting it mildly."
"In The Station That Was Waiting for Me, the station seems to reorganise itself around the traveller. The narrator arrives looking for a train, but gradually becomes part of the arrangement that makes the station work. By the end, he is giving directions to another passenger."
"Without knowing where he is!" Blottisham exclaimed. "The railway employee should have been dismissed."
"Perhaps," said Quillibrace, "but the station seems to have found him a position."
Miss Stray continued.
"The Platform for the Unchosen Train is rather different. There, the station seems to accommodate journeys that were never made. The places one might have reached, the lives one might have lived, are not simply imagined alternatives. They have acquired a sort of geographical presence."
Blottisham frowned.
"Are you suggesting that the railway operates trains to places people decided not to visit?"
"Not quite," said Miss Stray. "I think the more interesting question is whether a journey can remain part of someone's life even when it was never undertaken."
Quillibrace put down his cup.
"An inconvenient proposition for railway accountants."
"An inconvenient proposition for everybody," said Blottisham. "Imagine the timetable."
Miss Stray turned a page.
"Then there is The Platform Between Two Places. Here, the difficulty isn't quite the existence of places that were never visited. It's that the distance between places changes with the relationship between the people travelling."
"Distances don't change because people know one another," said Blottisham.
"Do they not?" asked Quillibrace. "Consider the distance between two people who have just met, and the distance between those who have spent a lifetime together."
"That is not a railway distance."
"Indeed. That may be why it is interesting."
Miss Stray nodded.
"The platform becomes a place that exists between two people, rather than simply between two geographical points. The journey is possible because they undertake it together."
Blottisham looked at the timetable again.
"I should like to see the railway company's definition of that."
"Possibly under special fares," said Quillibrace.
Miss Stray turned another page.
"The Last Train Had Already Arrived introduces something else. Time itself seems to lose its authority over the station. Arrivals and departures no longer establish a reliable sequence. The narrator encounters another version of himself, and the journey becomes difficult to distinguish from a return."
"That is intolerable," said Blottisham. "A train cannot have arrived before it has departed."
"Not ordinarily," said Quillibrace.
"Not ever!"
"Your confidence is reassuring."
Miss Stray looked thoughtful.
"I find it interesting that the story doesn't simply reverse time. It makes the distinction between arrival and departure uncertain. The train is travelling, but the question of where it is going becomes inseparable from where it has been."
Blottisham examined the timetable.
"I suppose that explains why the clocks don't agree."
"It may," said Quillibrace. "Or perhaps the clocks are simply having a difficult day."
Miss Stray continued.
"In The Passengers Who Knew My Name, the station seems to exist through recognition. The passengers know the narrator, but he doesn't know them. He may be the person they have been waiting for, or the person who has been waiting for them."
"That is a very peculiar way to operate a passenger service," Blottisham said.
"Yet it is rather different from the other stations," Miss Stray replied. "Here, the important thing isn't where the train goes, or even whether it arrives. It is who recognises whom."
Quillibrace nodded.
"An identity established by an encounter rather than by a ticket."
Blottisham looked distinctly unconvinced.
"I should prefer to have my identity printed on the ticket."
"That would certainly simplify matters."
Miss Stray reached the next story.
"The Station That Had No Trains is perhaps the most curious of all. There is no railway, yet the station works. Each passenger waits for something different, and what arrives is not necessarily a train. The woman's brother, the man's house, the girl's way home — each seems to find its own means of arrival."
"Then why call it a station?" demanded Blottisham.
"Because people come there expecting something to arrive," said Miss Stray.
"That is not sufficient to make a railway station."
"Perhaps not. But it may be sufficient to make a place of arrival."
Quillibrace regarded her for a moment.
"That distinction is worth keeping."
Blottisham sat back.
"I am beginning to suspect that none of these establishments has a proper railway licence."
Miss Stray ignored him.
"The Map of Stations That Never Existed changes the arrangement again. The map doesn't merely represent a network of places. The lines and the stations seem to come into existence through one another. The narrator draws a line, and a new station appears."
"That is cartographically unsound," Blottisham said.
"Undoubtedly," said Quillibrace.
"And the map tells him to draw another line!"
"An unusually demanding map."
Miss Stray smiled.
"But notice that the map isn't a fixed representation of a world already there. It participates in the making of the world it represents. The final station is not somewhere the narrator discovers. It is somewhere that becomes available through the act of drawing."
Quillibrace raised an eyebrow.
"One wonders what would happen if the Department of Transport were given such a map."
"Chaos," said Blottisham. "Absolute chaos."
"Perhaps," said Miss Stray. "Or rather more places to go."
There was a pause.
Quillibrace looked towards the final page.
"And the last station?"
"The Station at the End of the Line," said Miss Stray. "I think it brings the others into a rather different perspective. The station is supposedly the end, but the journey continues. The line doesn't simply extend into another geographical location. The very distinction between beginning and ending becomes uncertain."
"Then it isn't the end of the line," said Blottisham.
"That seems to be the point."
"Then it should not be called that!"
Quillibrace folded his newspaper.
"Mr Blottisham, I believe the railway has been trying to tell you something."
"That its signage is inadequate?"
"That an ending need not be a terminus."
Blottisham stared at him.
Miss Stray looked again at the eight titles.
"I wonder whether what makes these stories interesting is that each station has a different relationship with the person who arrives. One waits for someone. Another holds the journeys not taken. One makes distance uncertain; another makes time uncertain. Some depend on recognition, some on expectation, some on the act of mapping. And the last seems to question whether a journey can ever really be finished."
"Eight stations," said Quillibrace. "Eight different arrangements."
"And not one proper railway," said Blottisham.
Miss Stray smiled.
"Perhaps we should ask what makes a place a station in the first place."
"Tracks," said Blottisham.
"Passengers," said Miss Stray.
"Trains," said Blottisham.
"An expectation of departure or arrival," said Quillibrace.
Blottisham looked from one to the other.
"I see. We are now going to abolish railway stations."
"Not at all," said Quillibrace. "We are merely considering whether their existence depends on rather more than their architecture."
"Well, I shall not be travelling on one."
Miss Stray glanced at the timetable lying before him.
"Where does your train leave from, Mr Blottisham?"
"Platform Three."
"And where is Platform Three?"
He looked down at the timetable.
"Here, of course."
"Then perhaps you should go."
Blottisham gathered his papers hurriedly.
"I shall be writing to the railway authority."
"Do let us know what they say," Quillibrace replied.
"I shall."
He left the room.
Miss Stray watched the door close.
"Do you think he will find his train?"
Quillibrace returned to his tea.
"That depends, I imagine, on whether the train is looking for him."
Outside, somewhere in the distance, a whistle sounded.
Neither of them went to investigate.
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