Oh, shoot. The trolley problem is happening to me.

The probability of dying in a plane crash is about one in thirteen million. The probability of being attacked by a shark is one in four million. According to my mom, the probability of me becoming a lawyer is still fifty-fifty. All of these things scare me a lot. So I don’t fly, swim, or do anything that might convince my mom that I want to practice law. I am a trolley driver. And I have currently lost control of the brakes, sending me barrelling toward five people who are tied to the track, their only chance of survival being if I divert the trolley and kill another guy tied to another track. What are the odds?

I’m really worried that everyone is going to be mad at me. What if one of these people is a child? What if it’s my nephew? I couldn’t possibly kill a child, unless that child was Hitler and he was the guy tied up alone. But what if I screw up and kill the solo guy when there are five Hitlers on the other track who I don’t hit with my trolley?

In the distance, I can see an innocent bystander, standing by a lever. I wave my arms and shout to him about my brakes. I ask him who he thinks I should kill. He shrugs and says, “I dunno, just let me know if you want me to pull this lever.” I decide to kill the solo guy. It’s just one person! But maybe I should let nature take its course, like when I watched that monkey eat a live squirrel at the zoo. I don’t need to interfere with the circle of life.

Hang on—if I don’t stop this trolley, will I go to prison? I imagine that the cartoon villain who tied these people up has long since fled the scene. Maybe my going to prison is worse than five people dying. Could I get the death penalty? That would mean someone else’s having to decide if I was going to die. I’d feel really bad for them, because this is so hard.

I used to consider myself a moral person (or ethical? I can’t remember which). I have never lied or cursed, except for the occasional “motherfucker.” Plus, I only ever stole once, and it was just from the Sizzler salad bar. In fact, right after my interview for this job, I picked up a baby’s shoe when it fell off of the baby’s foot. The mother pushing the stroller didn’t hear me call after her, so I gave the shoe to a homeless person.

I’m almost past the point of no return. I’m realizing that I could just pull the emergency brake, but then I’d probably die (from the effects of inertia). I have to decide whether to kill one single stranger or five strangers. Ugh, I wish I had binoculars to see if one of them is Hitler! My heart races. I throw up out the window and onto the innocent bystander as I pass him. I try calling out to the people tied to the tracks. I ask them, “Who do you want me to kill?” but they can’t answer because their mouths are gagged with Erewhon tote bags. I can see them better now. One of them is asleep, actually, or maybe dead already? Now I have to decide to kill one single person or four awake people plus one possibly sleeping person.

I zoom past familiar billboards. I can’t help but chuckle at the S.T.D. one, because sex. An advertisement for an accident attorney—oh, what my life could have been. But now I have to make a decision that I thought I’d never have to make. This is not what I signed up for. I just wanted to move people in a car along a track!

But it’s too late. I’m about to smoosh a bunch of people. Except I’m not? Right before making contact with a body, I realize that the “people” are just Right Choice’s five-foot outdoor water-resistant holy-family nativity-scene yard decorations (on the one track), and child-safe P.V.C. inflatable Marge Simpson (on the other)!

Thank God, or whoever! ♦