In the darkness of that warehouse, we mourned the loss of our shared dreams of freely roaming streets, of visiting public parks, and of gazing at public art. Though we had heard they existed, we had never lived the life of free-range carts. My dream was to take public transit – to be a wheeled creature inside another wheeled creature.
But some of us dreamed of further service – that our meagre existence might provide some small and meaningful benefit to the world. None of this had been a part of our reality, and we were coming to grips with the realization that it never would.
Until that one day…
I can’t remember all the details because I was so deep in my mourning, but I found myself being wheeled away from my demise. I convinced myself I was dreaming until I felt sunshine on my bars and I could feel the concrete sidewalk under my wheels, my left back wheel trembling a bit on the rough surface like it always did. Two humans, it seemed, had rescued me. As I woke up to my sudden luck, I began to overhear the story: these humans had somehow convinced my owners that I had too much potential to waste, and that I could better serve the planet as a steward of fresh food rather than as a lump of cooling melted metal.