Who says being tied to the track is infinite suffering? How is it any worse than the absurd meaninglessness of our own existences? Could Track Guy not find joy in hearing the singing of nearby birds, or find freedom in his own thoughts? We could still talk to him, keep him company, maybe he would enjoy teaching or hearing stories, discussing philosophy. He could write a novel.

Even if he was being run over by the trolly every so often, couldn’t he find something worth living for in those moments in between? One must imagine Track Guy happy.