As I am now, I am a traffic light. I was built no more than one week ago, and today is my first day in operation. I am filled with a sense of purpose. I am ready to serve this intersection. I am ready to direct these commuters, all going no where, yet still in a hurry. Perched high above the organized chaos below, I stand ready to put their life in my hands.
          Currently, it is 8:30. People want to get to work, and I am going to help them get there. Stop. Go. Slow down. Alright, speed up if you’d like. Stop.
          Some people look like they choose not to travel by car, but by their own two feet. They appear to be in the same state of anxiety and quickness, yet they choose to travel by less convenient means. Although walking together, they do not talk to one another. One of these people appears to be disregarding one of my associates on the corner. He is like me, but he only has two lights. One has a man walking, and the other has an authoritative, flashing, red hand. The individual dashes off the sidewalk and across the street, purposefully ignoring my associate’s suggestions. Therefore, I flash my red light at the man, yet he still proceeds. He narrowly adverts being hit by a large automobile, one that I was signaling to proceed.
          Why is it that my light did not stop that man from crossing the street? Can it be that my powers, entrusted by my lights, are not as far-reaching and all encompassing as I had once thought? Am I not the omnipotent mediator that I was intended to be?

          The ever-hasty crowd that filled the streets this morning appears to have diminished, and all that I can see now are old ladies driving their cars perpetually slow. They drive as if they have no desire to be anywhere, just out for a leisurely stroll. The manner in which they drive their automobiles, although slow, is courteous. They obey my commands, and the few that walk the streets obey the commands of my associate. As they walk, they seem to be almost sublimely happy. None of them are angry at the traffic. They are considerate of those around them, not being too pushy or impatient. Rather than cursing the possibility of a bad day, they embrace the possibility of a good one. Rather than looking at the overbearing clouds and expecting rain, they see clouds and hope for the sun to break through.

          The day is progressing. The late morning and early afternoon hours were similar to those in the morning. The angry, uniform individuals purchased food at a local fast-food restaurant, then became even more angry and returned to whence they came.

          As it stands now, all is quiet. A few pregnant ladies and very small children are maneuvering the streets. The children appear to be in awe of all of the elements which surround them, and the pregnant ladies seem to be very irate due to that fact. As the children skip and jump over the cracks in the pavement, the mothers snatch the children’s arms and yell angrily at them to keep up. The children howl and pound their angry fists on the hip of the mother, than continue to skip and jump and lag behind, yielding the same response at the hands of the mother.
          As I watch this display of human brutality and rage, I am becoming more and more confused. I once again feel the need to flash my red light at the angry mothers telling them to stop chastising their children for exhibiting the imagination and innocence that they had lost such a long time ago.
          Once again, the angry commuters have entered the streets. They don’t seem to be that angry anymore, though. Just very tired. Some drive with eyes half-closed, and some drive with a look of frustration. Others walk the sidewalk with their head down, and others walk with aggression, paying no heed to the other pedestrians. I suppose I will see them all again tomorrow. The angry commuters cursing their angry existence.

          Night is beginning to fall, and I am beginning to see some suspicious individuals entering the streets. Some of the men are clad in faux fur coats and large, pretentious gold chains. Some of them are wearing velvet hats with feathers attached to them. They appear to be escorting young ladies with them. These particular ladies are wearing practically nothing at all, save a tube top and a pair of hot pants. The men stand on a flight of steps, or sit on a park bench, while the ladies talk to various men that happen to be strolling down my street. Some of the men accompany the ladies up to a sleazy hotel, and some simply walk away. At various times during the evening, the women would come back up to the extravagantly dressed man, and give him some money. And at other times in the evening, the extravagantly dressed man would slap the ladies, or push them to the ground.
          There are also men that were not so extravagantly dressed. Most of them are wearing clothes that were soiled and torn. They have various little plastic bags, filled with white powder. People seem to want to buy his little bags, and they are willing to pay a lot of money for them.
          Then, there are individuals that simply walk around the streets, apparently waiting for other individuals to come. When the other individuals come, they begin to hurt each other. Some have chains, and others have guns.

          This whole display of inconsideration is making me quite downtrodden and downright confused. I can stop traffic, but I can’t stop the people on the streets. I can’t stop all that I see, only that which I am programmed to stop. I feel as if my existence is completely futile. Anyone could do my job. A human with a big sign and a whistle could do my job. If the human wanted to, however, he could try to stop the inconsideration that is making me so confused.
          I begin flashing my red light, and I thus convince my three counterparts do to the same. To all sides of me are flashing red lights. I flash...I flash again...yet they proceed to commit crimes and to hurt each other. I flash again...and again...and again...yet no resolution seems to be coming from this.
          I can see the car approaching me from head on, and the car approaching from the right. These things do not concern me, however. I’m sure the cars can handle the situation themselves. I continue to flash and flash. The cars continue to approach, coming ever close to their perpendicular meeting. Closer and closer...flashing and flashing.

          The cars collide, and with considerable force. This act of fate implores the undesirable inhabitants of the street to exit with great haste. My lack of job responsibility has indirectly ended two lives. The way in which the lives ended, however, caused the inconsiderate people to leave. Have I done my part? I think so.

© 2000 by Andrew Morgan