A Theory about The Unproduced Amelia Season
I think Amelia’s book would have served to reframe her takeover of the train as, at least initially, a good thing. On some level, I think it was a good thing.
When we first meet Amelia in Book 4, she’s in some form of Dialogue with One; he’s walking her through the proceedings of the train, laying it all out for her. And frankly, he’s framed a lot like a supervillian here.
This isn’t the One-one that traveled with Tulip. He’s a united front, with a specific goal and ethos. His name drips with ego. He’s cold, calculating. He’s a robot hidden behind an uncanny face. He knows the train kills people. Probably a lot of people. He doesn’t care. They fix their shit- with limited guidance and resources- or they die. For all intents and purposes, he’s either PG Jigsaw or he’s playing Metatron to one.
Then there’s Amelia. Amelia, about whom we can observe several things;
She’s known to have a knack for subverting tyrannical, bureaucratic systems. She undercuts the phone company. She jokingly tries to talk Alric into ditching graduation. She does poorly in a classroom setting but she’s brilliant when she applies herself.
In an era when all passengers have specific uniforms-branded with One’s face, no less, Amelia is wearing the boots, (which physically can’t be removed) but not the soulless; identity-erasing uniform.
She’s penetrated very far into the infrastructure of the train. You don’t get this far on your first day, or without subverting a lot of systems to get One’s personal, undivided attention.
She has no Denizen with her here. That’s odd; with the exception of Grace, most passengers tend to accumulate denizens pretty quickly after they board the train. Kez demonstrates that, under One, this is what Denizens do- it’s their duty to explain the set-up and assist the passengers, although she personally isn’t “conventionally” good at it (she helps by being so incompetent they have to devise workarounds to the problems she creates.)
So what we’re looking at here is coded like a Bond Villain Speech to a protagonist that you’d get at the climax. This is after the plucky, headstrong, anti-authoritarian heroine has pushed through countless dangers on the train proper, to break into the inner sanctum of a sanctimonious demigod. This is after she’s asserted her individuality with clothes instead of a uniform.
This is after any denizens she potentially encountered have left her company; maybe through second-act heroic sacrifice, or just by being left behind when One brought her into the main tour. (It’s possible she never encountered any, but from a meta standpoint it’s unlikely the whole book would have been her with One-One and no one else.)
In the construction of a typical horror thriller or heroic action adventure, we’d be witnessing zero hour.
Now let’s look at her influence on Ryan and Min’s adventure. She exerts influence twice; once at the Party Car, and once at the castle.
In the Party car, she gives them back their stuff. Ryan’s Guitar, Min-Gi’s minisynth, their clothes. All flatly necessary to get through the car, to resolve their problems in general, and it’s pretty clear that One wasn’t going to give them that stuff if Amelia hadn’t suggested it; she’s in some kind of dialogue with him that can be heard through the Steward.
And someone pointed out that in the other seasons, the stuff that the passengers bring on board with them is a reflection of themselves, their strengths and their pasts. Someone aside from me pointed out that under One’s system, Tulip wouldn’t have had the pocket knife that she used to rescue Lake- and that was the only conceivable takeaway from that car, that you need to extend empathy even to people who are hurting you while pursuing their own needs. They pointed out that without his phone and the recording, Lake wouldn’t have been able to help Jesse through his issue with Nate and Troy. He could have kept dancing around that forever.
So this is clearly Amelia at a point where she’s trying to introduce a Reform to a broken system. And it’s a good one!
The second time she shows up, she takes the pair’s magnoboots, proclaims that “we are on our own,” and (accidently) self-destructs the stewards. That’s a demonstration that she’s in control at this point, if not competent control.
It’s telling that the most prominent thing One’s regime provides to the Passengers are boots that can be used as restraining bolts if they start doing something he doesn’t like. It’s also telling that Amelia’s first act as Conductor was to remove those restraining bolts from everyone on the train.
Her breakdown at the end of Book One is at least partially informed by her knowledge of how callously One-One ran things when she hadn’t rendered him a complete moron. Her brusque, no-nonsense attitude in Book 3 results from the fact that she’s not actually sorry about overthrowing One-One; she recognizes that there was a mechanical limit stopping her from bringing back Alrick, that she took One-One’s little speech about the train being capable of anything too literally, and that her time in charge could have been spent far more productively. But that was purely a practical error, not necessarily a moral one; she isn’t shown to care about denizens any more than One One or the Apex do, and she doesn’t care about the train working beyond what’s necessary to burn off her sentence.
Considering all of this, I think that a book about Amelia would have been framed as a full-circle revolution; a story about Dorothy finding the man behind the curtain, finding him lacking, and usurping him. The tragedy isn’t that the real conductor was overthrown; the tragedy is that Amelia fails to improve meaningfully on his performance. She failed to recognize her newfound capacity, and her moral responsibility, to improve the system for everyone; Instead, she got lost for thirty years in the pipe dream of bringing back Alrick, with nothing to show for it but turtles.
