They told me to give a TED talk but they didn’t say what it had to be about. after hour seven of my extremely informative explanation of how the parking pawl mechanism functioned on the A727 Torqueflite, a man stood up from the crowd and screamed “BOOOOOOORING.” I had the TED talk guards execute him on stage.
I snapped my black turtleneck and returned to the stage, which reflected the light coming from the five-hundred-thousand lumen DLP projector pumping out pixel after perfect pixel of my plan for bike lanes.
“We will place the bike pilots into this electromagnetic railgun that accelerates them to near-c velocities.” I frown as I click to the next slide. “It is my understanding that the majority of bicycles are poorly maintained by their owners and use needle or - god forbid - friction bearings.”
Another click. A grisly bicycle accident.
“This happened just now in the research laboratory. Someone didn’t torque the wheel nut properly on their Cannondale in order to survive the near-instantaneous acceleration to relativistic velocity.” Murmurs. “But they got to work really quickly.” Laughs.
Later that day, I would pose for the cover of Pedal Magazine. They were heralding me as a visionary, a man who could get bicyclists to work on time without them smelling like a dead man’s armpit in July.
At home, I heard the distinctive rustling of velcro against leaves. I rose from my chair, only to be gunned down by an extremist cyclist, still clad in full race wear. The pain was immense. I could feel my lifeblood slipping through my fingers as the world went faint. Is this how Jesus felt?
“Going slow is my right,” he shrieked, before pedalling off slowly, running a red light and being immediately run over by a Lexus RX350.