9 sec
The little boxes, began their check thru procedures.
8 sec
Wang was standing at the front edge of the cockpit. Brushing the CRH300’s controls. If it was ship it would have been its bow. His trainee stood close behind him.
7 sec
Zhen Zhao craned her neck and squinted hard.
6 sec
Mr. Wang was in a bliss. This was one for the books.
5 sec
As a kid Zhen Zhao had seen the Titanic at a mall in Shenzhen. She had thought it was just okay. Nothing much to write about, especially since the good bits had been taken out by the Politburo.
Unlike Zhen Zhao, 18 year old Wang and his parents had watched the Titanic in Hong Kong. And unlike Shenzhen, free Hong Kong had shown all the good bits. It had inspired him. It had inspired little Wang, inspired him to become a captain. A captain of anything that had bow on it. And here he was.
Doing it with Zhen Zhao wouldn’t have been the same. She didn’t get it.
4 sec
Zhen Zhao could see the faint outline of Wang’s little face. He seemed to be standing up… and there was someone close behind him. She tried harder.
A large, person stood behind Wang. Eww he went from her to that??
The trains got closer.
The burly person was a man…
The dude wasn’t even Chinese… he had facial hair.
Damn. Probably had something to do with training the Mongolian hordes in exchange of sand for the phones. Wang held out his arms to form a T, mimicking the corny Titanic pose while his Mongolian male friend handled his junk.
3 sec
Zhen Zhao shrieked.
2 sec
Startled, by the shriek, Zhen’s co-pilot Chou looked up, just in time to catch the passing CRH300. Chou observed, “Ugh, looks like someone spilt their latte on the windscreen. That’s stuff is disgusting. No hot beverages says rule number…”
1 Sec
The little boxes latched onto the trains.
A scrapping metal sound filled the CRH400A’s cabin as Zhen and Chou felt the train slightly tilt.
A similar sound filled Wang’s train as he and his partner also felt a tilt.
0 Sec
Once the little steel buggers had latched onto the under bellies of the trains, the made in Russia steel cable began to exhibit a bizarre stress — strain graph. Normal steel would have just expanded a bit and then snapped, probably derailing the trains and resulting in a proverbial train wreck.
However the made in Russia steel cable expanded by about a hundred feet. The two trains were halfway past each other.
At the end of this superficial expansion the steel cable from Magnitogorsk, went taught. But unlike typical steel cables it didn’t snap.
The effect on the trains was instantaneous. Simultaneously both trains seemed to hit an invisible wall. But there was no damage or shattering of the nose. Instead of crumpling, slowing and derailing, the faster CRH400A following the laws of angular velocity, swung left and lifted off the rails. Its target: The CRH300.
29 micro seconds later the CRH300 also lifted off and headed towards the middle of the sleek black CRH400A.
Up in space, satellite Koba was all amused, this was the start of a long payback for the Damansky Island bs… well technically Koba the satellite didn’t have a soul, but it wasn’t entirely unfathomable. Primakov however, had a beating heart and a working brain. It was all going according to his plan.
The CRH400A headed straight into the middle of its older cousin. Just when Zhen Zhao thought it was all over, she hit some sort of a silent cocoon… the eye of the storm. From up in the air, it seemed like a dog chasing its own tail… but there was also another dog involved…
Primakov however, knew it was more like a couple of poisonous reptiles chasing each other’s heads while going in circular motion.
Either way it was, trippy.
The steel cable had in essence clubbed the nose cones of the trains together. When coupled with high speeds and aerodynamics, this had made the trains airborne. The Chinese designers aka the Japanese, had never considered the little deviant known as the centrifugal force. Why would they? They weren’t making a rollercoaster for Disney World, Dalian.
This Centrifugal deviant, forced the trains to lift off and unwind at the same time. The mellow white train, the almost invisible steel cable and the CRH400A all formed a humongous S shaped rotating chopper blade. It was still trippy.
The first casualty was the hi-tech fence that guarded the tracks against peasant revolutions. The trains, acting like a whip, blasted one out to Rangoon.
The eastern fence flew a 100ft before crashing through the paint shop of the Datsun Auto’s manufacturing facility. No personnel were injured as paint shops were considered to be too hazardous, even in China. The surviving Datsuns looked like they had been in an accident involving tattoo artists at a gay pride rally.
It would leave an indelible black mark on Chinese manufacturing, or so hoped Primakov.
The western fence flew into the smart underwear maker plant. Here the damage was more devastating. Stores, supplies and electronics all burnt to the ground. The devastation sent the smart underwear industry, back to the stone ages. This would force the California company to remove the ‘Designed in California’ tag and ship the remnants to the Democratic Republic of Congo.
The trains, still spinning, headed in the north-westerly direction with a ton of angular momentum.
Inside the CHR400A, Zhen Zhao and Chang Chou were still alive and relatively unharmed. They were strapped into the Japanese designed seats. Chang Chou, resigned to fate, decided to think of happy things. Early childhood, her first ramen… that kind of shit.
Zhen Zhao however simply couldn’t look away from the spectacle in the CRH300’s cockpit. When the trains had taken off, the cockpit’s occupants: Wang, Wang’s wang, the 6’6” Mongolian and his wang had all been unstrapped and strutting. With gravity suddenly taking a backseat to centrifugal forces all four had been hurled around the cabin like an angry babushka stirring at her sauerkraut.
In an effort to stabilize himself, the Mongolian dude had made a grab for Wang. Wang himself was attempting to keep his privates covered. Zhen meanwhile couldn’t take her eyes off the wangs.
After 10 more micro seconds, Zhen averted her eyes and looked down. On her lap stuck between her seven inch skirt was the CRH400A’s operator manual. She wrenched it out of her trembling thighs and went straight to the end of the 600 page book. She went to the end for two reasons. One, because the last section was in Chinese and two, because most manuals put apocalyptic scenarios in the end. Like replace your LG TV or check power switch or call some 1800-FUCK-NUMBER.
As expected the top of the last page had some mumbo jumbo about toll free numbers. Zhen Zhao skimmed down. Some pencil pusher in Beijing was quoted as saying ‘Human capital is our greatest asset. We will always save ours.’ Zhen Zhao couldn’t believe this bull.
After travelling about 250 meters in the North West direction, the trains tired of whirling through the air decided to cave in to gravity. Right about there was the largest train manufacturing plant in Southern China. This particular plant happened to be the one designing and manufacturing the new age “Absolutely and Completely Made in China” trains like the CRH400A.