The train station buzzed with holiday travelers as Evan shuffled along. He squeezed between throngs of clustered families and outbound urbanites packing off from downtown to suburban family gatherings likely equally enjoyable as the one Evan would be subjected.

He caught the eye of one bleary-eyed mother, hair disheveled, four small children in tow. The youngest, still stroller bound, tapped at the screen of a tablet, and a colorful story book of images flickered across the screen. The eldest, not more than ten, scrolled through lists of songs on a mobile device. Wireless audio earbuds jutted from a pair of pastel pink bedazzled cat ears set atop the young girl’s dark hair. The middle two children tapped at mobile devices, causing images of mini explosions to alternate in the space between the pair. The mother’s attention flitted from her brood to the GlobeNet connected tablet resting on the awning bonnet of the stroller. Evan made out the numbers of the same gate he was bound for. He flagged the woman down and gestured her to follow.

“Thank you so much, sir.” The woman smiled. Sweetness and gratitude alighted genuinely on the woman’s face. “It's such a trouble to travel during holiday rush don’t you think?”

Evan grunted in response to the woman’s attempt at thanks and small talk. “Right.”

“And with kids in tow.” The woman shifted her attention to make a head count over her offspring. “Do you have any kids?”

Evan didn't intend to openly sneer at the woman, but he knew by her facial reaction his disgust at the thought had been made quite apparent.

“I guess not.” The woman smirked before shifting her pace and direction of the stroller slightly. “Well, thanks for your help.”

Evan shrugged and saluted loosely at the woman and her gaggle of children as they hurried into the crowd ahead. Evan refocused on his destination. Small talk and big crowds, two of Evan’s least favorite things. Nothing would please Evan more than to turn the entire crowd off via remote to avoid conversation. This was not the scene he was accustomed.

Evan reached the platform for his departing train without further occasion to talk to or rescue another human. His mobile device alerted the train of his permission for passage via his electronic tickets. Evan passed through automatic doors into the cylindrical carriage of the train.

He double-checked carriage and seat number against the screen, glancing now and again to confirm he was heading in the right direction as he wove through tightly packed aisles. His eyes remained loosely trained on his mobile device as he awaited signal he had neared his designated seat.  The chime sounded as he paused in front of the section. Evan frowned at the only empty seat directly between an overweight older gentleman and a young woman with a snoozing infant in her arms. This leg of the journey was certain to include overt snoring, and probable squalling. Typically both would start around the same point Evan was getting comfortable.

Evan positioned himself between the two annoyances and shoved a set of earbuds into his ears. He slipped into a zone of music from his cloud playlist and opened his tablet to the connection to his office desktop.

Through the window Evan watched as Fred’s eyes never left the screen of his mobile device. He ambled his slightly overweight form through throngs of travelers swarmed along the train station platform. Following the blinking green dot on his screen, Fred navigated the station to the waiting train carriage. The doors slid open allowing Fred to enter, still following the direction of his mobile device.

The mapping system on the screen shifted to an image outlining the seating of the interior of the train. Noting each doorway he needed to pass through, the navigation system displayed red flashing squares indicating the seat reserved according to the electronic pass. Fred’s blinking blue icon closed on the doors of the next car and he paused, eyes ever on the screen, to wait for the doors to part.

Evan glanced from his business on the tablet long enough to catch a glimpse of the slightly large, balding man waddling through the car toward him.

Fred passed Evan’s seat and frowned at the screen of his mobile device.

Evan coughed.

Fred waved the device in a slow circuit, as if searching for a signal. He watched the blinking dot hover short of the red seat square. It was clear the navigation system had locked up.

Fred wandered past Evan a few more steps. Evan sighed as he watched.

He considered a moment before calling out. “Uncle. Fred. Hey.”

Fred turned toward Evan, head still down, eyes on the screen of the mobile device.

“Your seat is right here, old man.” Evan rolled his eyes.

“I know, but it doesn't seem to be registering on the navigation program.” Fred paused directly in front of Evan, uncertain whether or not it was safe to sit. “Do you think it's a local system glitch, a service error, or a mistake in program coding?”

Evan snatched the device from his uncle and dropped it onto the small table set between the two seats.

He returned to his work on his tablet as Fred dropped into the seat across from him. Fred retrieved his device and closed the train station navigation app. He slipped the device into his shirt pocket and fumbled with the satchel hanging across his chest. The strap flipped off his shoulder onto a dozing passenger beside him, earning Fred an unnoticed scowl from his nephew. He drew a tablet, similar to Evan’s, from the valise and propped it on the attached kickstand.

Both men stared at their respective screens as the cityscape dissolved into sparse desert. Most passengers settled into similar positions.

Fred broke the silence to inquire about dinner. “Have you seen this menu? Damned near thirty bucks for a basic bacon burger with cheese, fries and a milkshake.”

Evan glanced from his tablet to raise an eyebrow at his uncle. He sized up the man at about two hundred and sixty pounds, possibly closer to the three hundred mark.

“Do you think you need all that anyway?” Evan returned to scrolling the menu application on his own tablet. “I mean we're going to be eating a pretty big meal tonight. You know how mom loves to stress herself out over the perfect Thanksgiving feast.”

“Hmmm.” Fred grumbled at Evan’s comments. “You know, typically I wouldn't pass up a good burger, shake, and fries combo, but you may have a point there, Evan, my boy.”

Evan released a sigh and allowed his eyes to roll back to the screen. “Well, it’s good you think so, Uncle.”

“What are you getting?” Fred bowed the small plastic table with his weight as he leaned to spy at the screen of Evan’s tablet. “What on earth are you looking at? A menu from Mars?”

Evan let the tablet slip to the surface of the table and rested his hands at the sides of the device. “What are you talking about?”

“What is this tripe?” Fred flipped his fingers over the tablet and set the images reeling.

“It’s the sushi and sashimi list. Tripe is not on this one. That’s English not Japanese.” Evan tapped the screen and the mad scroll jolted to a halt.

“If you want to eat the bait, remind me never to take you out fishing.” Fred snickered.

“Right. As if I am going to take dietary advice from a man who is on more pills than food.” Evan snatched the tablet and leaned away from the table.

Fred scowled. “Well, aren’t you your mother’s kid.” Fred pressed the image of the send button to confirm his order of burger, fries, and large chocolate shake. “And you shouldn’t be talking about who’s on drugs for what. I’ve seen your charts.”

“What?” Evan glared up from the tablet. “What the hell, you old hacker.”

The minor outburst earned Evan a glance from the sleepy passenger beside Fred, as well as a quirked eyebrow from the young woman with the baby.

Fred shrugged his broad slumped shoulders. “Old dogs don't need new tricks, kid.”

“Whatever. Privacy hasn’t existed in twenty years anyway.” Evan returned to his tablet. “Besides, it’s post-traumatic stress. Not the same thing as killing myself with food.”

Fred sniffed. “Post-traumatic stress. ‘Whatever’ is right. Come on, kid.”

Evan let the tablet settle to the table. “Seriously. We’re going to get into this again. Now. You know how pissed my mom will be if we show up and we're not speaking to one another. You know this is a real thing.”

“Oh I know it’s real.” Fred leveled with Evan. “I had my wars too. I watched my buddies get shot down. More than once. With bullets. This tech stuff makes war too easy.”

“Look. There was more to that incident than Linc’s death.” Evan sensed adrenaline coursing through his chest. “I cannot do this with you right now, Fred. I’m going to get a drink. Service here sucks.”

Evan shoved himself out of the seat, jostling the overweight passenger to his left and irking once more the young woman on his right. He grunted an apology to both before making for the service and dining car.

Fred sighed into his seat and crossed his arms. “Shit.”

“You are so right, friend,” another passenger murmured over Fred’s shoulder.

Fred turned to see a man somewhere between Evan and himself in age, alone in the next set of seats.

“I heard what you and the young punk were chattering about.” The passenger peered between the seatbacks at Fred.

The man moved to rise from his seat. He turned and rested his knee in the seat of the chair and quirked a nod at the empty seat Evan had occupied.

Fred shrugged.

“This is a screwed up era of war we live in, my friend.” The stranger leaned his arms on the back of the chair between himself and Fred.

“In many ways it is, but there are new dangers as we remove the old.” Fred searched for Evan through the doorway to the next car.

Evan stood at the bar, a shot glass set in front of him. Fred shook his head. “That punk kid has seen things that could mess with the mind. I spout off sometimes.”

“The mind.” The stranger’s harsh tone snapped Fred back to the conversation at hand. “The mind has ways of repairing itself, as long as we are not continuing to poison it with this techno garbage.”

“What are you talking about?” Fred quirked his brow at the strange man.

Fred took a good look at the man for the first time since he had begun talking. He wore a threadbare military jacket. The display grids for rank and insignias had been disabled and deep gouges marred the blank black squares. Fred thought the scratches had a pattern but the reflection of light on the plastic surface made it hard to make out. A symbol on the man’s tee shirt caught Fred’s eyes as well. It was partially visible under the open jacket.

“Poisoning our minds?” Fred shook his head. “With what?”

“All of this, of course.” The man tapped hard on the surface of Fred’s tablet to make his point. “It’s as you said. War lost the personal hand-to-hand combat. We are nothing but children playing a video game. Only bodies which hit the floor are real. Technology has stolen our humanity.”

Fred glanced again around his seat to the dining car.

"Linus." The man's hand jutted into Fred's view.

"Come on. Plenty of space in this row. I sense we could do with a face-to-face conversation to break the ennui of the journey."

Without pause to await Fred's answer, Linus dropped into his seat.

Fred slid his tablet into its bag and coaxed his rotund hips from the seat. He wedged his valise into the chair and shuffled around to the next row.

Linus met him with a smile as Fred dropped into the seat across from him.

"You work for the Tower." Linus nodded.

 Fred's brow furrowed. "Yes, but how-"

Linus waved off the question. "The young man was right about one thing. No privacy in this world."

"You seem to be working on keeping yours." Fred gestured to the damaged uniform.

Linus brushed a hand over the insignia. "Yes. Well. Every little bit helps."

"My studies require I maintain a somewhat more discreet persona." Linus offered a sly smirk. "As do yours."

Fred frowned.

"You have been prodding at a pet project." Linus continued. "A means to expand the storage capacity of ITower's Cloud."

"How do you know about that?" Fred lowered his voice to little more than a whisper. "Only half the company board knows."

"I know because my organization knows." Linus leaned in. "They have been studying the answer for almost two hundred years."

Fred released a short laugh.

Linus scowled.

"Oh. Damn, man. You had me." Fred glanced around the car. "Who put you up to this?"

The look on the man's face stole Fred's mirth.

"This is where it begins, Fred." Linus leaned back into his chair. "You don't have to believe."

From the dining car Evan glanced through the window to catch a glimpse of his uncle Fred talking with a man in a military uniform. The short cropped hair and olive green jacket gave away the man’s enlistment, but little else.