The red-haired man stood quietly in line, his hands in his pockets, waiting in mute silence for the roller coaster.
The sound around him was deafening. All screaming children and blinding lights, loud music and vibrant, larger-than-life colors. It would've been fun, if it weren't so frightening.
The roller coaster stood strong and resolute through it all, a towering structure of metal girders, cords, support beams, nuts, bolts, and nails. It was a triumph of engineering, with a twelve-story drop and a dozens loops that seemed to defy gravity and make one's stomach soar with excitement.
The red-haired man's eyes could see every bolt, every screw, every patch of welding. The shapes spun in his mind, disassembling and reassembling into a thousand different shapes. There was so much potential, here. He could see every detail, acknowledge it, and understand it. He could tell at a glance how many days it had taken to build, and, potentially, how many hours.
He stood in line with a dozen children and a weary-eyed teacher, and all but the teacher cheered in delight when the roller coaster stopped beside the platform, ejecting a batch of sick-looking schoolmates off the cars. The red-haired man boarded, sitting in the very back car. It creaked dangerously beneath him, and his mind whirled through a dozen ways to make it more secure.
The bored-looking attendant came around and buckled everyone in, coming to the red-haired man and frowning. "Aren't you a little old to be on this roller coaster?" He asked, fastening him firmly in his seat anyway.
"Yes." said the red-haired man quietly. "Yes I am."
The attendant shrugged, and returned to his post. Not long after, the cars began to move, and, slowly, they trudged up the hill.
The straps felt uncomfortably tight against the red-haired man's skin. He wondered about which of ten ways there were to improve them.
Of course, he couldn't improve them. Not anymore.
He'd been quite clever, once upon a time. There was nothing he couldn't build, nothing he couldn't fix. But nowadays . . . nowadays . . .
He began to hate the roller coaster. He tugged furiously at the straps, trying to rip them off. They weren't anywhere near the top of the hill yet, and he could feel himself beginning to sweat from nerves. The girders weren't secure, they would snap, and the nails would rust, and the iron would bend and bow and break.
If he'd built the roller coaster, they wouldn't break.
The girl sitting in front of him turned in her seat to look at him. She couldn't have been more than ten. "Hey, mister." He said. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine!" He snapped.
She shrank back. "Sorry. I was just asking." She mumbled.
"No, I'm sorry." The red-haired man said stiffly. "I shouldn't have snapped."
"My name's Phoebe Terese." The girl said. She looked up at the top of the hill. They were almost halfway there, now. Half the coaster was bristling with anticipation.
"You're on a field trip, I see." said the red-haired man.
"Oh! Yeah." Phoebe nodded. "Isn't it cool?"
The red-haired man did not reply.
"I think it's awesome." Phoebe continued, returning to a front-facing position. "I can't believe we're going to the amusement park on a field trip! I can't imagine a field trip more exciting, can you?"
"No." said the red-haired man distantly, looking down at the station below them. They were high, now. Separated from death by only the engineering prowess of a few adults. It wouldn't take much, pondered the red-haired man, to bring the whole mess to the ground.
It wouldn't take much at all.
"I'm transferring to a new school next month." Phoebe was saying, as the rose ever-closer to the top of the hill. "I sure hope it's a lot like this school."
It was all settled in his mind before his hand even touched his cell phone. A plan laid out from beginning to end, and he could see every bolt that held it together, every girder that was essential to bring his intentions to light. He saw the world like a geometry problem, an algebraic equation, a mechanism that needed to be constructed. And he would construct this mechanism perfectly. It was, after all, what he did.
The roller coaster had to go.
It all had to go.
The red-haired man pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. They were almost there. The cars were just about to crest the hill.
He flipped open his phone and hit speed dial. He put it to his ear and it buzzed softly, waiting to picked up.
Someone on the other end picked up the phone. Though there was no voice, he could hear quiet, expectant breathing.
"Hey, Ferb." The red-haired man said. "I know what we're going to do today."
And the roller coaster plummeted down the hill.