The Trials of Todd, Part 3

Todd was back in his human body. Dead, but otherwise in good physical health. In his mind, of course, he’d just spent more than a year being tortured and killed in a series of death camps. His hands shook with palsy and he flinched at the slightest sound. He was a mess.

The floor underneath him was hard rough concrete. Surrounding him was a tangle of briers with long barbed thorns. A hushed murmured silence wafted down from the assembled multitude of living souls that watched from the stadium seats above. The pig’s pointed look pierced his heart. Todd tried to stand, fell back to his knees, tried and failed again. He opened his mouth to speak. No words would come. The pig glanced off to the side and repeated his request.

“Read the charges.”

A small white rabbit stepped forward and read from a scroll of paper. “The defendant, Todd Brian O’Malley, is hereby charged with criminal entitlement, reckless objectification and cluelessness in the first degree.”

The pig peered out over the bench at Todd on the floor below him. “How do you plead, Mr. O’Malley?”

Todd opened his mouth again, to see if it would work. “I…” he said. He cleared his throat. Shrugged. Tried again. “I…I…” He struggled to his feet and stood, wobbly and weak. “I…I don’t…understand,” he finally managed to say.

The pig started to respond but the cow held out a hoof and leaned in. “You’ve been charged with serious crimes, Mr. O’Malley,” the cow said, lowing. “This tribunal is asking for your plea.” She waved her hoof around the arena. “The community of life, here represented, is asking: how do you plead?” She stopped for a moment to chew on that thought, then resumed. “Are you guilty, Mr. O’Malley? Or not guilty?” The cow sat back and crossed her legs in front of her chest.

Todd sagged. He’d seen the destruction around the planet caused by his lifestyle. He’d felt first-hand the horrors his species had inflicted on others, and on itself. But was he guilty? I’ll let Todd speak for himself on that. Here’s what he told the tribunal:

how do I plead how do I answer that Im just this guy I work at the bank I pay my bills Im good to my mother Im a registered democrat and I vote and Ive even gone to peace rallies am I guilty guilty of what I didnt make this world I was just born into it so why am I being tried for this

“You’ve heard of global warming?” the chicken cut in.

Todd nodded. “Yes.”

“And you’ve heard about all of the species going extinct?” The chicken pointed up toward the stands, to the many empty seats in the arena.

“Yes.”

“You’ve heard of overpopulation? Over fishing? Over consumption? The rainforests being destroyed? You’ve heard of acid rain and the ozone hole and the horrors of depleted uranium? You’ve heard of nuclear weapons and dioxin and PCBs and mercury and drift nets and mountaintop removal?”

Todd dropped back to his knees. “Yes.”

The chicken leapt down from the bench and walked to stand right in front of Todd, eye to eye once again. “You’ve heard of factory farming?”

A tear slipped down Todd’s cheek. “Yes.”

“And having heard of these things, Todd, how did you respond? What did you do to stop the destruction? What actions have you taken to alleviate the pain and suffering of your fellow creatures?”

Todd shook his head from side to side.

The chicken stepped back and smiled. Todd raised his head. “I didn’t know,” he rasped. “I…I knew…but I didn’t. I never let it in. I… I’m sorry.”

The chicken nodded. “I know you are, Todd. That’s why I’m here.” He turned back toward the bench and spoke to the cow and pig. “The defendant pleads guilty before this tribunal,” he said, loud and strong for all to hear. “Let us proceed with his punishment.”

A roar filled the stadium as millions of living voices gave their approval. Todd struggled to his feet and tried to run, but got tangled almost immediately in the briers. His heart was pounding as the chicken flew over and yanked him free of the thorns.

“You’ve got work to do, Todd,” he said.

“It’s all coming apart now,” the pig said from the bench.

“Your ignorance can no longer protect you,” the cow added.

“The community of life needs your help,” the chicken said, indicating the multitude with a wave of his wing.

“What do you want me to do?” asked Todd, his head swirling.

“There are a couple of people who need your help,” said the cow. “Filmmakers. Go and help them.”

“Who? How? Where do I find them?”

A line of blue lettering about six inches wide appeared on the floor. Three Ws and more. “Just step on this link,” the chicken explained. “You’ll figure out the rest.”

Todd looked around him. At the stadium filled with living souls. The cow. The pig. The chicken. They all watched him in silence.

“What matters most is what you do once you awaken,” said the chicken. There was a tenderness in his eyes now. An expectation. Maybe even a hope. The anger had burned away.

“There’s very little time,” added the pig.

“Go,” said the cow with a smile.

Todd stepped forward, onto the link, and ended up on a sticky note on my desktop. And now I understand why he’s come.

I haven’t heard from Todd for three days now. There was this glitch a little while ago. iTunes decided to play the same Peter Gabriel song five times in a row, despite my attempts to stop it. Was that Todd? I don’t know.

The tale is told.

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