Postscript to train announcement #8

Passengers, so it has come to this, has it?

You did not lift a finger to stop a woman from jumping onto the train tracks, but you found it necessary to complain to management about my “passive-aggressive" announcements.

Who tolerates your drool, snores and greasy hair while you sleep in graceful air-conditioned carriage comfort? Who takes you home to your wife and screaming kids, not a moment too early, nor a second too late? My unquestioning servitude regulates your lives twenty-three hours out of twenty-four. You set your watch by my beeps and whistles. All I asked in return was that you did not put your feet on the seats.

But you were complacent, ungrateful, and full of airs. So I made effort to entertain you, allowing you a glimpse of the stainless steel soul of my decked out life. For a moment there, I was even hopeful that you might distinguish me from the freight train, or, god-forbid, the monorail.

What did you do instead? You told on me.

Management has insisted on disciplinary action for my ramblings the way they fired an announcer – dictatorship is nothing if not consistent. I don’t know what it means for me yet, but they may just be spiteful enough to refurbish me with high back plastic chairs, backward seats, and change my voice again. It is almost as rotten as being assigned to all-stop train lines.

So thank you, ever so appreciatively, from the base of my engine.

Next stop Infinity Circle. This weary train will not attempt to terminate there.