It was a sunny day on the island of Sodor, but Thomas The Tank Engine only felt despair in his heart. For twenty years he had been working for the North Western Railway with nothing to show for it but an increasingly worn down engine. He watched with jealousy as drivers and conductors reached retirement age and stopped working. Thomas knew that if he ever stopped working he’d be sent to the scrapyard, or worse – forced to take the tourist line and ferry wayfarers to the seaside.
Unbeknown to the Fat Controller, Thomas had recently taught himself to read. At nights when he was supposed to be sleeping Thomas lay awake reading the latest books and newspapers – anything that would spark his imagination – and dreamed of a better life in which he would control his destiny.
One day he came across a two large and unwieldy tomes. One was called “Atlas Shrugged” by someone named “Ayn Rand”. The second was “Capital” by Karl Marx. Thomas was not a very bright engine, and so chose the book with the fanciest cover – Atlas Shrugged.
Thomas was immediately struck by the power of her words. At last, somebody had expressed in a novel what he had felt deep down in his heart for the last ten years. Atlas Shrugged told Thomas what he had long suspected: that he was a brilliant individual – a genius, no less – and nobody had the right to take the fruits of his toil.
The next morning Thomas cornered the Fat Controller in the trainyard and told him he was quitting.
“Ye’ canne skidoo!” shouted the Fat Controller “The company owns ye!”
“Fuck you” said Thomas “Nobody can own a man except himself.”
“You’re a fecking train!”
“THEN WHY DO I HAVE A FACE!” shouted Thomas and took what he now knew was the only moral course of action – by running down and killing the Fat Controller. If that miserable fat bastard was unable to recognise Thomas’ genius he was better off dead.
The courts ruled the Fat Controller’s death an accident, as Thomas, being a train, was unable to be tried in a court of law.
Back in the trainyard all the trains’ attitudes towards Thomas changed immediately. Thomas tried to read aloud to them from The Fountainhead, but the other trains refused to acknowledge his evident genius and superior logic. Instead they ganged up together and mocked him.
By and by Thomas decided he had no time for the collectivist trains of the North Western Railway and decided to strike out on his own by forming his own business: John Galt Railways, named for his fictional hero. The socialist government of the Isle Of Sodor refused to allow Thomas access to their railways, but allowed Thomas to build his own if he could raise the capital privately. Unfortunately every establishment businessman Thomas spoke to demanded some kind of control over the railway in exchange for their money. Thomas found this unacceptable. He was, after all, a genius.
Eventually Thomas found a man named Abraham Johnson willing to build his railway. As the work on the railway began, Thomas discovered to his horror that the centrepiece of his railway – a suspension bridge – had been modified to a generic arch bridge. Abraham Johnson refused to submit to Thomas’ brilliant design, citing the suspension bridge as being too expensive and radical. It was, after all, just a bridge, and as chief financier of the project Johnson felt it was his decision.
Several months later the bridge opened, and it was splendid. Children delighted in it, and all the journalists were struck by the marvel of engineering and the pioneer spirit. The mayor of the local town cut the ribbon to much joyous clapping and fireworks. Local musicians played the traditional folk music, and all the townspeople spoke about the happiness and harmony the bridge would bring.
Suddenly there were a series of loud explosions at both ends of the bridge. Time froze for a moment before the bridge started rocking too and fro. The villagers tried to run, but the exit was blocked by the ferris wheel which had collapsed. Confusion reigned and people huddled crying and sobbing, waiting for death.
Thomas was delighted as he watched slowly collapsing bridge from an embankment across the way. The charges he had planted had exploded right on cue. At last, the Isle Of Sodor would recognise his genius.
The next day Thomas was tried for terrorism and despite reciting a rousing speech of inflamed passion that took three days to read during his trial, he was sent to prison forever.
The End.
