“You haven’t been around for a while,” Jack muttered.
“I was starting to think you’d built yourself a cabin on the surface and forgotten the rest of us down here among rust, mould and whatever still moves in the dark.”
Harvey let a tired smile appear.
“Really? And where exactly do you think I would disappear to? If I found an island, I’d take you with me.”
From the shadows, another voice joined in.
“Kensington Gardens,” the man said quietly.
“I heard there’s still an empty bench near the fountain.”
A short laugh followed.
“Hyde Park, maybe.”
“Or the Serpentine.”
“Just don’t stay after dark.”
Another voice spoke.
“London Eye. Perhaps one cabin is still turning.”
Nobody truly laughed.
There was no room for humour in the Tube anymore.
But sometimes people pretended.
Not because it worked.
Because they needed to remember how.
The old jokes.
The forgotten places.
The parks.
The islands.
The London that once existed above them.
Now there were no parks.
No islands.
Only directions.
Only locked stations.
Only bullets.
And the darkness waiting beyond the next tunnel.
London Tube 2033
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