The railway line through the northern tundra no
longer runs on steam or coal. It hums with
magnetic levitation, its tracks embedded with
quantum nodes that rewrite local time zones to
suit imperial mandates. The government calls it
the Confederation Link—a marvel of engineering,
but also a tool of control.
A nurse practitioner from Moose Jaw is assigned
to a remote station where patients report waking
in different years. She notices patterns: those
who vanish are never seen again, their records
erased by the system’s selfcorrecting algorithm.
She discovers a hidden chamber beneath the
station, sealed by a code only highranking
officials know. Inside, she finds a ledger of
names—many from the 1890s, others from the 1920s.
The railway isn’t just moving people; it’s
relocating entire timelines to enforce a single
national narrative.
A minister from Ottawa arrives, demanding she
delete her notes. She refuses. The next day, the
station’s power fails. The quantum nodes flicker,
and the timeline fractures. She wakes in a
version of 1912, where the railway doesn’t exist,
and her name is unknown.
The minister’s agents find her, but she has
already memorized the code. She uses it to
trigger a controlled collapse of the node
network, collapsing the railway into a static
loop. The system reboots, but the timeline is
fractured—no one agrees on what year it is.
The nurse practitioner vanishes. Some say she
became a ghost in the system. Others claim she
built a new station beyond the reach of the Link,
where time moves freely. No one knows for sure.
But the railway no longer runs straight.
