At 7:30 in the morning, Atocha today changes its usual bustle for a cloying silence, like a small provincial station. From the national interchange of powerful Spain, that of business and tourism, on any given Thursday, to a sad halt, in slow motion and serious faces. Between the works and the shadow of the previous day's tragedy in Urda, the atmosphere is one of shocking calm. The problems in the Cercanías network completed the picture of the largest stoppage in the capital.
"There are only 4 taxis, look, little movement," warns the driver when arriving at the entrance. Before starting off, he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows when he heard the "let's go to the Ave, there's no other option." In Atocha the abnormality was immediately detected. For some time now, the AVE stations had become places of doubt, so let's see what happens and we'll see if there is no delay in the backpacks of all the passengers. Gone are the brilliant times of efficiency and punctuality due to these years of degradation. The train, before Adamuz and Urda, was already uncertainty; Now, fear is logical.
On the information panels, the announcement of the cancellation of the line to Andalusia and the phrase "Attention to family members" stand out in red. Relatives of victims who left yesterday just at this time, with their suitcases, their plans, their loves, their sadness and their things, towards a ravine of death and panic. In the list of schedules, several cancellations due to the Renfe strike shine, to complete the picture.
Cancellations
To the south, there are only exits to Toledo. The rest, scarce. The Iryo do circulate towards Barcelona, these Italian trains that keep getting attacked by the Spanish. The passengers board in silence, orderly, while a little boy advances on the back of his suitcase, as if it were a pony, in the only happy image of a black and white platform.
Going down the escalators, the huge red Frecciarossa awaits. It is impossible not to think about the scenes of their peers dismounted on the olive trees of Toledo, after the brutal impact of that AVE sent towards disaster. 06081 leaves on time and with few passengers, if anything 35%. The brown leatherette armchairs move around, dotted with people, and with many empty spaces. The shock of Adamuz had been felt throughout the year in the number of travelers, even before the Urda drama, that damned deja vù. Many today did not use their ticket, the conductors confirm.
The hostesses do the check quickly and at the bar, just two coffees on the bar first thing in the morning. The few conversations revolve around the same thing. "I just had to go on a trip today...", a girl tells her seatmate, as the train picks up speed. The screens do not show kilometers per hour, in this new abnormality of a system that has gone from exemplary to feared.
Three kids do hug each other when they meet, in the only smiles that emerge in the car. They go on a Halloween bridge. One reassures the other who snorts with a snide comment: "Don't worry, tronc, the accidents are always on the southern line, not on the one that goes to Catalonia, they take care of this one, for whatever reason...". Minister Puente also gets his mentions, many of them with two diamonds, others more reproducible: "Let him continue dancing and using Twitter, what a shame..."
The march is going at a good pace, heading towards Sants, without stops. Better. When another train crosses in parallel, the gaze is directed to the windows. Two children color between crumbs of the Oreo that their mother gave them. On cell phones, news of more bodies in Urda and glances at the time, calculating what is left. A good autumn sun somewhat enlivens the atmosphere of the corridors, turning the carriages into a train of silence, without the need to go to the preferential ones where you pay for it. At the height of Lleida, the fog embraces the Iryo, before the sky clears again as it heads towards Sants. "We are here, everything is in order," Carlos writes to his mother, worried as ever. Her and everyone.
