One of the entrances opens automatically when you step under its sensor. You set your son on the ground for a moment to catch your breath from the walk and go around the corner for anyone that might be able to help. Turning back to where you set Dakota down, you find him crawling away at a pace that must be at least three-times the average baby’s crawl-speed.
“What a pain! He’s headin’ fo’ that train!” You could have sworn you heard the voice of that 8-ball guy over the sound system!
Anyway, the voice is right, your little Dakota is heading for a stationary, 19th-century passenger locomotive exhibit. For some reason or another, a familiar Kate Bush song is playing over the sound system when you step aboard. A putrid, green smoke greets your nostrils on the train. This inhalation makes your brain go dizzy inside its skull, so you have to sit down with your head in your lap to see if you can recover your bearings.
When you look up through the green smoke that’s getting wetter and causing more condensation by the second, you no longer recall the title of the Kate Bush song playing…nor do you remember that the vocalist is Kate Bush. The doors close on the train and everything on the outside goes dark. You can’t even remember if that’s supposed to happen or not. You drop to the ground in an attempt to escape some of the thick, wet, green smoke.
To page 91!
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