They all move down the stairs, and the air is mushy and damp. Then they were asked to stop, and a white mask was placed on their head. They cannot see anymore.


    “Platform one, the next tube will be in one minute”


    K realise they are in the underground station, all stood on a platform


    One by one, they were pushed down the platform. There are shrieks, cries and horrors.


    Time had lost meaning as the train’s sound filled the cavernous space of the underground. The clamor of life had been replaced by the noise of indifference. He had been waiting for the absurdity to cease, for the world to return to some form of logic, but there was no escape from the void. The trial had been nothing more than a performance—a show to maintain the appearance of order.


    As he stood there, hands trembling, the voice of reason—a voice that had long been drowned in the relentless rush of the world—was silenced by the finality of the ruling. He was no longer K, no longer an individual. He was a cog, disposable and forgettable, ready to be cast aside.


    The rumble of the train grew louder. K stood frozen, repeating the words under his breath, as if they were the last fragments of something that could save him, that could tether him to the reality he had once known.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "My name is Kane Abbot. I am from Wiltshire originally. I like football..." Each word seemed more fragile than the last, but K kept repeating it. It felt sacred, almost like a prayer—a desperate attempt to define himself before it was too late. A plea to the world that he existed, that he mattered, no matter how small or insignificant.


    The train, indifferent to his presence, sped by with a sharp hiss of air. The man in front of him, another faceless casualty, was swept away without a sound, his body absorbed by the roaring metal..


    "My name is Kane Abbot. I am from Wiltshire originally. I like football..." K repeated the words again, the rhythm of them becoming a mantra.


    And then, as the train thundered toward him, a realization washed over him—a brutal, undeniable truth. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The world would continue turning, just as it always had. People would get on the trains, rush to their jobs, curse the delays, and never once pause to question. K, and the others, would be swallowed up by it. They would fade into nothing, forgotten, as though they had never been.


    The train roared by, uncaring, and the crowd around him remained oblivious. No one noticed him, no one cared. K felt a strange sense of clarity, the absurdity of it all settling into him like an old, familiar weight.


    The light from the train blazed forward, and K closed his eyes. It felt like salvation. Perhaps, in this moment, he could finally let go, could finally surrender to it all. Maybe he would wake up one day and laugh at the absurdity of everything, laugh at the world that had never cared.


    It all ended for K now, and the broadcast in the station suddenly started “There was a road incident detected, all underground closed, passengers are advised to travel via alternative routes.”  And all the displays are updated to the same information.