I’m not crazy.
Crazy doesn’t know what it’s doing. Crazy isn’t responsible for its actions because it’s, you know … crazy.
But I knew exactly what I was doing when I stepped in front of that train. I wasn’t trying to kill myself, absolutely not!
It was the bees; I did it for them.
Everyone knows the bees are in danger, but most people don’t know why. It’s complicated. It’s an irregular confluence of magnetic waves, wind velocity and ozone depletion that sends their little bee directional compasses all out of whack, so they can’t find the flowers.
No flowers equals no nectar. No nectar equals no honey. No honey equals a world without honey, and we’re not going to survive long in that environment.
And worst of all is the trains. Wherever they go they stir up unnatural breeze patterns, disrupting Mother Nature’s airflow and generating those insidious magnetic fields, with their steel wheels and their parallel rails — Field Strength equals velocity times alloy ratio over the rail coefficient to the fourth power… everyone knows the formula.
But no one seems to care, so it was up to me.
If I hadn’t stepped in front of that train, it never would have slammed on its brakes, never would have stopped … derailed, whatever. I realize that some people got hurt. OK, killed, and that is very regrettable. It wasn’t my intention to cause any harm. But we don’t know how many more trains the bees can take. The trains have to stop, and the stopping has to start somewhere, and today was the day because there I was and there was the train and, well, I suppose it was fate.
But I did it for the bees.
I’m not crazy.
Copyright 2017 by D.A. Donaldson