Sometimes I wonder, what's the meaning of life if not to periodically question if we're moving on or simply on the move to a dead end? I suppose cleaner, greener transport is meant to assure us we're the former. But is it just me, or does it feel like we're all aboard the ghost ship of environmental salvation, destined to arrive at... well, oblivion?
Take, for instance, the all-spirit electric delivery network BoogeyVans. Summoning parcels from the nether to your doorstep, they've convinced the afterlives of ASOS and Zara to ship ethereally. Murvah Ghostbump, the spectral co-CEO, whispers through walls about decarbonizing our possessions' passage to the other side. Infrastructure investment? Ha! Like we're investing in haunted houses.
Igor Howl-a-scream, the phantom new services director at Were-Jaguar Land Rover, echoes the moans for ghost government support to consolidate the fragmented ether market. "We need more energy orbs, phantom charging points, and ectoplasmic space," he wails. One misstep could lead to the undead's worst nightmare – congestion. Imagine spectral gridlock!
Talking about high-flying spirits, Tom O'Leprechaun at JetHex offers his cauldron brew of a hydrogen-powered broomstick, pointing out that even banshees can reduce their scream emissions by half using the same old sorcery. His company aims for zero-carbon-cackle flights by the time you've lived another half-life.
Katya Conjure, the necromancer of finance at ZeroBroomstick, prophesies that the fuel-cell enchantments need more dark moons to mature. Yet, her coven is launching a hydrogen spell for flying carpets big enough for a hex of twenty by 2025.
They all believe we're spiriting away from fossil fuels, but I'm not sold on the idea – often contemplating if life's candle burns faster with all this clean burning talk. After all, isn't laughing in the face of death what makes us feel alive? Just remember, no matter how green we go, we all meet the same end – and that, my friends, is the most reliable service out there. We ride together, we die alone – preferably laughing, in an eco-friendly hearse.
Jack Superblack is a fictional humorist at Twister, always a battery charge away from signing out, but not before sharing a morbid joke about the end that's always near.
Based on the original article "The Transport Companies Leaving Fossil Fuels Behind".
