A cart of lanterns careening down an aimless track.

I could see them coming; or rather, I could hear them. And because I could hear them, I was able to visualize that sound in image form: a medium-sized rusty cart careening down a rickety aimless track. It needed to get fixed approximately years ago. I told Ralph, but he didn't listen. In fact, he looked down at his hands much like I am doing right this moment, probably created a mental picture in his mind of what was right in front of him based on the stumbling nervous voice that he was blankly nodding his head to. Except this time the thing I am seeing happening using the movie camera in my brain (craning my head to the appropriate angle to get a good view is not in the cards for me right now) is behind me, not in front, like it was for him.

Really, he had the choice to look, and I don't so much.

Also, he probably correctly imagined the sight he chose not to behold, as I apparently did not. No, the last thing I would have conjured was that the lanterns would be lit. Now, it might have been the impact from the cart into my already-aching body playing tricks on my corneas, but I swear the last thing I remember seeing (or was it feeling?) was a pile of lights, looking like buzzing fireflies, covering every inch of me.

It could have been real; they could have been lit before they were sent down the track. Someone (Gerry? I bet it was Gerry) could have taken their sweet time lighting every single one of those things as they carefully placed them in the trapezoidal metal cart, using the daintiest fingers a miner can replicate to ensure none of them extinguish on the way down. A nice gentle push and--

It's amazing I was able to get all those thoughts in and out of my noggin before the inextinguishable lanterns made their way into my legs and torso, and well, extinguished me.