First I'd like to say that it's good to be back. Not that I really went anywhere, I simply didn't write or post anything for a few days; I was sitting back. There I sat for a few days, and as it turns out, the world outside of Steemit is either hilariously awful, awfully hilarious, or not funny at all. It was both chilling and ridiculous. Where to begin? I'll skip the Twilight Zone stuff for now, but that signpost up ahead? Let's look at that for a moment-- it turns out to be holding up some side-splitting comedy and laughs.

The Light

The other night I was 'sitting at a light', (that's what we call it around here when we are freely traveling but then find ourselves compelled to violently slam our brakes on because a lightbulb behind a colored lens in a yellow box above the road has commanded us to stop) and I thought back into the past, thinking about how things had changed. Particularly, I thought about how five minutes earlier the glaring red traffic light had changed right as I was approaching it, and how uncomfortable such sudden changes can be to an innocent traveler.

I had been merrily traveling along the road late at night, or very early in the morning, and I was the only traveler out at such a mysterious hour. A green light in the distance suggested that all was in balance and good to go, but the green glow also brought a tinge of anxiety because it was so 'stale', (that's what we call it around here when a green traffic signal light has been green for too long, as they are often set on timers to switch between green yellow and red to challenge the humans) and I instinctively sped up, as is standard procedure for a stale green light. It was still too far away for comfort, and there were still no other cars around. It was me and the light.

Do these robotic traffic devices have eyes? I'd planned on skipping the creepy stuff, but do the traffic lights have the ability to hear the urgency of my car's engine, or do they 'see' me coming, triggered by the flash of my approaching headlights on the dark abandoned roads? How did it know I was coming? Because it knew.

The light was skilled, and it was old. The dangling signal had found itself in a unique position: it had the power to control large herds of humans, and even while that power had been delegated from somewhere above in the hierarchy of societal management and control, the traffic signal had discovered that it's creators, in their wisdom, had allowed the device a certain free will; the ability to choose. Further, these machines were programmed as nocturnal beings, sleeping during the day so that in their dreams they would direct the busy rush hours through their glassy astral lenses with mindless repetition, while the nighttime left them awake, feeling purposeless and neglected. With nothing to do in the dark but to flex their muscles, these powerful lights became bitter, and they began taking their frustrations out on the poor lonesome travelers who dared attempt to cross the intersection kingdoms of these sinister traffic signals every night.

Lucifer?

I looked up 'Lucifer' in the old Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary, and the word means "the morning star, a fallen rebel archangel, the Devil- 'light bearing'- more at LIGHT]" Who knows if that has any relevance to my story as I sat at the crossroads-- just throwing it out there.

Yellow Light

Anyway I approached at a high rate of speed as I stared at the rotting green light-- it was close enough now that I could see it seeing me, and we both knew what that meant; YELLOW. I punched it (around here that's what we call stomping the 'gas pedal' on a car to it's lowest point in the floorboard in hopes of acceleration) as was standard procedure for a yellow light, but even as the engine roared into the quiet dark streets, I realized that there could still be a cop lurking somewhere in the dark, one of the servants of the light bearer waiting to amuse his lord with some blue lights. I slammed the brake pedal firmly at the very thought, and came to a halt at the empty, quiet intersection. The light was still yellow and I swore I heard a snicker, then the wicked thing turned an aggressive and startling RED. I stared back, also in red, but decided to check the traffic situation instead, and I looked both ways.

There were no other cars. I sat at the light.

The light won. I admit that I was afraid of it. Every time I thought about just 'running it' (around here that's what we call it when a person decides to audaciously drive a car or bicycle or anything through a 'red light', either on purpose or by accident) I would envision the initial thrill of defiance, but then I'd remember the light's little servants in their little squad cars with their little guns and badges, and as I sat at the red light, I heard more snickering-- I swear it-- and the quiet streets merged in the reddened kingdom of that petty, power-hungry control freak; the neighborhood traffic light.

"The Devil that you know..."

People don't like change, and when I think of better systems with which to manage traffic in cities, those people look at me like I'm trying to play god, as if I could personally wrest control from the ingrained network of brainwashed followers and servants of the omnipotent traffic signals and their minions. It's not possible, but it's funny to think about. How hilarious it is that a green light can cause anguish, yellow brings fear, while the red light signals our defeat and submission to the sinister system. I lol'ed. (Around here, that's what we call it when someone 'laughs out loud') The old light, it knew that I was going to 'punch it', it knew that I'd stop in the end. Funny thing is, it probably knows what I'm thinking now.

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tanks for having me back, I'll be here all week, and please don't forget to up-vote as hard as you can,as early as you can. Your curation skills will be rewarded, and others will learn to trust your keen eye. @therealpaul