Today I had a moment of clarity, as they say in Pulp Fiction. You know the scene where Jules tells Vince about his moment? It’s important because at the end of the movie, Vince is dead. He’s a douche of an order that ultimately deserves his fate. Jules, on the other hand, is pretty amazing. After walking in the darkness, he sees the light.
When reading about humanity and evolution, the idea of abstract thinking starts to resonate.
I couldn’t put a pulse on it until a few events happened recently. Driving on the freeway, I saw that some cars chose not to turn their headlights on. For some, it makes total sense. “Why should I put my headlights on when it doesn’t change my own personal ability to see the road?”
Simple. Because the greater good dictates we all turn them on. Even if you can see, it might be, I’m driving seventy miles an hour in an all wheel drive vehicle in two inches of rain. It could be, I’m in the fast lane.
Meanwhile, you’re in a honda accord. You sprung for the expensive EX model, or maybe you drive a Lexus sedan. Or a Mercedes, and spent a hundred grand on an AMG model. Iphone in hand, you’re breaking the law, driving with the phone next to your head, in the rain, with mist so dense nobody can see your gray car.
Disappeared inside the darkness, wrapped in light, your Mercedes is invisible to my Subaru.
At the point of impact, my car slams home, at seventy miles an hour, with your bumper. Despite the rain, you were driving sixty miles an hour, hardly slow. Because I had no time to react to the speed delta, the cars were too close, I hit your bumper. Spinning out of control, your car does a three hundred and sixty degree turn. Spins completely out of control.
Heart pounding, you have a brief, panicked moment when the phone slips from your grasp. At home, your pregnant wife was just telling you about the most important moment of your entire life. At thirty six, you’re going to be a father. Her water broke, and she wanted to meet you at the hospital. Driving fast in the rain to get there to see your newborn, you made a small mistake.
Forgetting to turn your lights on. After all, it’s bright enough *for you* in front of your car.
Invisible to me, coming up fast. The three sixty causes your Mercedes to spin so fast, the Iphone hits the windshield so quickly, all you can think is that your last words to your wife were, “I’ll see you soon.”
The lie burns in your eyes, causing them to water the moment the Semi strikes.
Flipping end over end, your head snaps, killing you. The very last moment before the lights turned out, the energy faded, all you had time to broadcast was a simple, small signal.
Crap. I made a mistake.
The only thing that happens before the lights fade, the curtains close, your unborn child loses their father is that you know, deep down inside your bones, inside your heart, inside every single cell of your whole body.
You alone, driving sixty miles an hour in the rain, with no lights on in a gray car, knowlingly breaking the law and holding a device in your hand, with one hand on the steering wheel, with zero cars to your right, when you could have easily driven in any one of the three free lanes.
You alone were responsible.
You killed yourself, because of, ironically, the smallest decision you made that day. For good intent, to encourage your wife, alone at home while you were on the way to a business meeting. Late, driving fast, heart racing, your baby was on the way a few days early.
Nothing in Google Now could have prepared you. The smallest decision of the day, the tiniest, most infinitesimally small thing you could have chosen in your life, ended it all.
With victory inside of your grasp, your genetic, evolutionary goal within reach, life slips from your fingers. The future belongs to the past, the lights go out, and all the fun you could have imagined before that day escapes your grasp.
I’ve lost family. There were many accidents today on the road. I drive safely, quickly and within the bounds of the laws that govern our society. Please, don’t be greedy, ignorant, stupid or willful. It might be your life, it might be somebody else’s, that’s lost.
All because you made a deliberate, singular decision to hold your iPhone and drive.
This story is entirely fictional. I’m a professional writer, marketer, story teller. I’m here, quite frankly, to prevent this scene from happening. It’s good when we can drive safely. It’s bad when we don’t, when we can’t trust our fathers, our mothers, our sons and our daughters on the roadways. I love my family.
I know you love yours just as much.
Please, share this message. My company, hookupJS, is looking for investors. Together, we can prevent this tragedy before it happens. If you have the power to help me prevent this tragedy, I can’t help but feel sad for the future you created – if you chose to ignore this message.
Me? I’m one of the good guys.
Partial to Wolverine from the X-men, but so far, my band of three is a smaller squad. Together, we’re going to do amazing things. I’m small, powerful and nearly indestructible. I’ve been through a lot in thirty-seven years, and unfortunately, I took the advice given every young person who says they want, at some point, to be a writer.
“Live,” they say.”Live life and experience the world, the universe, then come back and tell us the stories of hope, of joy, of possibility and opportunity that you’ve seen out there in the wide, wide world.”
I’ve helped change the course of elections, met billionaires and powerful leaders across the world. I grew up in a small town, like some fantasy book or the Wheel of Time. I believe, through the power of abstract thinking, we can imagine a better world for all of us.
Like the latest X-men movie, I’m from the future, here to warn the present, to see the Mercedes strike the Semi, and share a small, singular truth. It’s preventable. It’s within our power, yours, mine, our team’s, our vision. It’s possible. We can change the world, together.
We’re going to be heroes.
The good news for the investors? They’re going to be rich.