KE ARAH / TO
GOMBAK,
the sign read.
The voice on the P.A. was not the usual cool pre-recorded female announcer; instead, the ungraceful voice of the tired attendant downstairs. The next train will be arriving on Platform B, she announced, her message broadcasted twice, first in Malay, then in English.
11:30pm and yet it's unusually empty here at the terminal in Kelana Jaya, the very end of the line. The train wasn't set to arrive for another six minutes, and here I was, lonely, the sole passenger-to-be. Surely there were going to be other people rushing to get on the last train home?
My hands moved around. Headphones, iPod: a necessity, a constant companion for my forty-minute trip to the end of the line in Gombak. When the train arrived, I was still the only person waiting. The doors opened, and still just me. I came in to an empty train. My own personal shuttle.
The low whirr, grind and screech of the launching shuttle gave me pause to think, to dream. My thoughts wandered freely. I dreamt I was embarking on some on-rails exploration. Imagine that, a KL-bound angkasawan.