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Mary Fay Pearson gets a train from Harrow on the hill station nearly every day. Her destination changes all the time, one day she’s on the way to Amersham and another she’s on route Aldgate. She never speaks to any of the commuters at the station, it’s common London courtesy after all but once a while she may tell a fascinated child stories about the old metropolitan railway and how it revolutionised transport. How it was the worlds first underground railway system and how it ran through London, greatly serving it customers. She spoke so proudly almost as if she had been there herself but that’s silly isn’t it?

The metropolitan railway had opened in the Victorian era and Mary Fay Pearson looked like she was barely pushing thirty. Not a single strand of grey was found in her brown hair, always styled in a bun and her fair face never showed any signs of wrinkling. The clothes she wore, a white button up shirt with short sleeves, with a thin black ribbon around the collar, a maroon vest, a plain black pencil skirt and a pair of brown doc martens, were not old fashioned.

Most deduced her tales about the old railway were due to an avid interest in transport. Some speculated she worked for the London Underground and was spreading these tales to get children interested in working for TfL in the future. The tiny minority of those who suggested she may be immortal were quickly shunned and labelled as nut jobs. It was outlandish to suggest the idea, Mary Fay Pearson was just an ordinary woman just trying to entertain children, a young looking woman, a good looking woman and a woman who did not have an old fashioned dress sense. Those who said this always forgot one detail though.

Mary’s eyes were tired and not tired in the sense she had not gotten any sleep. They were tired in the way that they had seen so much, like the eyes of the ancient old man who you would always find in the local pub. Those who believed in those ‘crazy conspiracy theories’ always used her eyes as evidence, no matter the circumstance.

Mary Fay Pearson never answered any questions. She ignored them and got on with her day like any other. No one knew who she was and she was content with that. It was a government secret after all and besides no would believe her.

Less than a handful of people really knew who she was. They didn’t call her Mary Fay Pearson. Instead they called her Metropolitan.