[1966]
A low whine filled the air, as a massive green diesel slunk into the yard, a line of trucks clattering along in front.
“There you all go,” he harrumphed. “Into the sidings where you belong.”
“Can’t believe I’m being asked to do this,” the diesel continued, rolling his eyes. “I mean, really what are those Gronks, Gardners, Pugs, and Rustons even for, if we main line engines still have to do the shunting ourselves?”
“Be glad you’ve still got work to do.” A voice growled, its source obstructed by a lone line of vans.
The diesel looked around, his eyes settling on a rusty old steam engine. It looked like it’d been built with a tender, though nothing stood behind the engine’s cab.
“W-what do you mean?”
As the line of trucks rolled further into the sidings, more and more engines could be seen. The old yard was absolutely teeming with machines, coated in rust and decay.
Worse still, they all glared at him with murder in their eyes.
“Murderer…” they hissed. “Rotten scoundrel…”
“Wh… what are you talking about? What did I do??”
Slowly, the yard filled with laughter. Hoarse, despairing laughter, laced with cynicism and mockery.
“What HAVEN’T you done?!” A smaller engine barked, its voice cracking with age. “Engines like you laugh at us for our age, engines like you bring us here where we’re broken up, it’s all because of ENGINES LIKE YOU.”
“I… I didn’t…”
“Murderer! Degenerate! Heartless bastard!” The engines hollered, spitting and cursing as they shouted over one another.
The big diesel shut his eyes and tried to weather it, but under their berating, he felt comparatively smaller. With a desperate howl, he took off, back the way he came. It was all he could do not to break completely.
