. . .

Tramp

The countryside stretches forever from here. I could watch it go by for hours.

I'm going to have to watch it for hours, after all. It's not like I'm going to jump from the train before it stops - I remember too well what happened to Penelope when she tried it. Nobody misses her but me, I think, and even I don't miss her enough to mourn like they do in the books I scrounge. Love Eternal sounds great when you're a hero, with rippling muscles and hair to match (an unfortunate metaphor, when I think of it). For someone who doesn't have money to eat more than every other day or so, love is a luxury.

I eat daily, these days. Not the greatest quality, but beggers can't be choosy. I look pathetic enough to get some attention, and after the interview people would actually see me, which is half the battle won right there. That's dying down, but I still get the occasional, "Hey, you're that guy, you were on the news a couple months back." It was actually 60 minutes, and closer to six months ago. I'll starve again once that's forgotten completely, but for now it's a nice change.

It was because of Penelope that I got tapped. We were called "Hoboes", "continuing a tradition whose origin is lost in the mists of time". Which is stupid - people hopping trains have only been around since trains were invented, by definition. I had a nice bit when I got to tell them about how I had to keep moving, if not the real reason why. Penelope's death drew the media's attention to us, and suddenly we were Hip. Makes me sick. These days, I keep meeting someone who I could tell in seconds was a rich kid, joyriding for kicks. Whatever keeps the road going, I try to tell myself, and sometimes I succeed.

I do miss her. She was starting to understand the reasons behind it all, I could tell. I need to find someone else to tell about it. I might have to settle for a rich kind - if I can get one to actually believe me, to realize what depends on it all, maybe they'll come over completely, do it more permanently than for their little vacations. As it is, once I die, there'll be very, very few left.

All we need to do is last a few more years. Once we get real space travel going again, it'll be romantic enough that it'll get some riders. That'll do it nicely. We'll need very few over those kinds of distances.