I Am A Truck Driver 1 The Problem With Trolleys 1

I keep my foot on the pedal.

A small b.u.mp. Almost unnoticeable. All the more terrible.

I brake and look outside.

Blood. A corpse. I look at the lifeless body of the young man in front of me. Black hair, generic looks. He's wearing a uniform.

I pull out my phone and dial a number. I'm all too familiar with what happens next.

The sirens soon come.

They interrogate me. I speak as little as possible.

I know how this will end. [It] takes over at this point. [It] makes them let me go. [It] lets me disappear and be forgotten.

But [It] and I, we never forget.

There's a funeral. It's small. The student had no immediate relations. An uncle, a few aunts, some cousins, a couple cla.s.smates visit. I'm there, too, but no one sees me.

I look at the small grave marker set next to two others.

I close my eyes.

I'm sorry. I hope you do better in your next life.

Then I leave, stained with sin.

...

I'm sure everyone must have heard of this question at least once in their life. There's a trolley that will hit five people. There's a lever next to you. If you pull the lever, the trolley will change course to hit only one person.

Question.

Do you pull the lever?

I thought the question was easy to answer when I first heard it. Yes, of course. One life versus five. The answer is obvious.

"Is that why you chose me?" I asked [It].

[It] responds with disapproval.

- I wouldn't play such boring games.

"You're right." I let out a deep sigh. "A G.o.d that tortures a person with moral dilemmas simply because that person thought he knew the answer to an unanswerable question. I'm sure such a G.o.d doesn't exist."

- I am not a G.o.d.

"Yet we play the part."

[It] doesn't reply.

We sit in silence as time slips by. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. The sun sets, then rises again.

My stomach rumbles. A fool who plays G.o.d, but is still mortal. I smile bitterly as I get ready to go out.

"The next one?" I ask [It].

- Not yet

I don't know whether to feel relieved. Does someone like me have that right?

- You know you can stop any time.

[It]'s words drag me out of my stupor.

"I know," I answer simply, then go to buy breakfast.

...

A week pa.s.ses before I get the next dream. A village burns in front of my eyes. The villagers are running and screaming. Demons kill them, one by one.

One of them sees me. It should be impossible, but he does. He runs toward me.

"Ssave me."

He gets cut down and his fingers land next to my feet.

The demon behind him grins at me, then runs off to get the rest. When they're done, the only sound that remains is the crackling of the burning village.

I wake up. My head is throbbing, and my heart is pounding pound loudly. I'm sweating even though the room is cool.

I look to the nightstand next to my bed. It was empty before, but now there is a picture. It's a picture of a girl wearing a uniform. Black hair, generic looks. I don't know her name. I don't want to know her name.

- A month.

[It] tells me.

I have a month to kill her.

...

I watch her for a while to learn her habits. She lives alone. She walks to school early in the morning by herself. She sits quietly in the corner of the cla.s.s. She walks home in the late afternoon by herself.

Her life was plain and dull.

Same as the others.

I almost pitied her.

If there was a trolley that would hit five people. If this girl was tied to another track. No that's incorrect.

If I'm driving the trolley. No that's not correct either.

"If," I ask out loud, "there was a trolley that would hit hundreds or even thousands of people.

"If there was a girl who had no close relations and lived a dull and boring life.

"If there is a lever that would divert the trolley to kill the girl and save half of those people.

"If I alone am allowed to decide whether or not to pull it.

"Question.

"Should I pull the lever?"

I hold my breath and wait for an answer.

A minute pa.s.ses. Then two. Finally, [It] responds.

- What do you think?

I almost smile.

"Give me the d.a.m.n lever."

...

[It] prepared a truck for me. It's a grocery truck. It's blue.

"Not garbage this time?"

- No, not this time.

It was almost a joke. It was almost funny.

...

I decide to go in the morning. There's less people around.

b.u.mp.

And another one falls at my hands.

I look at the corpse.

I dial a number.

I listen to the sirens.

I stay silent.

They forget.

I stand in front of a grave.

I'm sorry. I hope you do better in your next life.

...

"How many is that?" I ask, despite knowing the answer all too well.

- 23

"So you're also keeping track."

[It] doesn't respond.

I walk around aimlessly for a while, then pause. I watch the sun begin to set. The sky darkens and blue gives way to red.
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"Hey."

- Yes?

"Did you know? That girl from this morning. On her bag. She had a strap. I coincidentally noticed it. Did you see it?"

- I saw it.

"Do you remember what it was? It was a dolphin."

- It was.

"Do you think she liked dolphins?"

- I would a.s.sume so.

"Do you think it was her dream? To be with dolphins? Maybe she wanted to work at the aquarium. Maybe she wanted to be a marine biologist. Maybe she..."

Maybe she wasn't plain and dull at all. Maybe I took her dream away from her.

- I don't know. We don't know.

[It] stated plainly.

"You're right."

And we continued to walk.