In the dystopian wasteland of lockdown, an enterprising social media outlet was spawned. ”The Influenzas”, a video sharing platform, soon became a haven for those in need of a new income stream. A rag tag bunch of social misfits were pushed into becoming social media influencers to make ends meet. Let’s catch up with some old friends.

Tribe of the Tracks – Key workers

A commuter community of key workers became a close-knit group. Unable to work from home, they were thrown together in unlikely circumstances. They soon became a dominant force on a provincial commuter train route.  

The eclectic bunch were unfettered by the one-hour yard exercise limit imposed on the rest of society. Appreciating their opportunity to reach hearts and minds, they initially documented their journeys through their channel Tribe of the Tracks.  They prided themselves on their enlightening parables and motivational quotes.

The first stations people soon established a rich and vibrant culture. It became local practice that packed lunches could be eaten (or at least investigated) immediately upon embarkation. A ‘sharing size’ bag of crisps was available at all times for informal grazing. This flouted the mandate that food was not to be consumed or shared inside the train. Although, food could be consumed and indeed shared (at passengers’ own risk) while strapped to the roof of the carriage.  

The group initially respected the rules. However, many were slapped in the face by slices of tomato careering towards them like an autogyro. They’d escaped at speed from fellow travellers’ sandwiches. They unilaterally decided that the physical risks associated with the ‘al fresco’ alternative were greater than the risks posed by in-car dining.  

Buoyed up by this rebellion they continued to push the boundaries and documented these new self-assertions. This intrigued their subscribers who delighted in being mavericks by proxy. 

One table became a designated speak easy and makeshift casino using tickets as playing cards. Sadly, resistance to etickets was waning and fears for the loss of this tradition were voiced. In the ongoing newspaper racket, competition was strong for who could read the most over someone’s shoulder undetected. It was usually the crinkling of a mask when breathing in and out that gave them away. Sadly, inadequate mastery of free diving breathing techniques resulted in several hospital admissions for asphyxiation. 

A shadow economy thrived as they brazenly sold stolen Scottish shortbread fingers and Earl Grey tea bags from the first-class carriage. Business was booming after the (unfortunately named) Vegetarian Queef shipment was commandeered. Newly recruited mules dispatched it across county borders to other branch lines. 

No-one but the elders could remember a time before such activities became the norm. 

The tribe were in for a rude awakening. A shift in the situation brought back all the passengers who’d been missing for what felt like a generation. As tensions rose the elders began to warn of old prophecy. Their debauchery and degeneracy would be brought brutally to heel if allowed to flourish. The tribe felt their old existence slipping away. 

Things came to a head on Maundy Thursday when they launched a coup. Rampaging through carriages, taking hostages and demanding their needs be once again catered for. This led to a stalemate yielding the Good Friday disagreement. A news blackout prevented any further coverage of the distressing event. Subscribers were left in limbo about the fate of the once revered Tribe of the Tracks.