That was only an excuse to do something stupid, 47 thought. Not only that but it sounded like a good way to get oneself dead--by relying on an unknown quantity to prevent something you should see to yourself. If they relied on such an unknown what happened when the day came that it didn't bring them back? When did death become permanent because even the train couldn't reverse it?

He stared at her retreating form for a moment, silent. Then he turned back around to the prep station and returned to work. Why did he care what others thought or did to themselves. It wasn't his prerogative.

He wasn't friends with anyone here. A man like him didn't have friends.