Just a weird thought that occured to me quite randomly the other day. Imagine that. I'll be the first one to agree that I probably had way to much free time on my hands at the time of occurance, and not enough stray thoughts to entertain said free time with.

A deadly combination in its own right.

At any rate, a background story is in order.

I'm currently on an internship on an automation's company at the city where I grew up, here in Sweden. I hitch a ride with family or friends there every morning, and ride the bus home every afternoon.

On my way to the bus stop to get home, a twenty minutes walk, I walk across a dam. On most days, I also pass here twice on lunch, depending on where I choose to eat.

Okay, enough of that.

On those days I pass there during my lunch break, every day without fail, 3-5 days a week, for 10 weeks now, the life buoy on the dam has been haphazardly thrown into the water.

I know this because, a) it's not present where it's supposed to be and, b) on most days, I can see it in the water. The angle of the dam, where a lake turns into a 20 meter wide river, is shaped as such so that the stream pushes the buoy around in a circle about 5 meters across. Round and round, endlessly.

Nothing special about that, ya might say. And I agree.

Nothing special at all, if not for the fact when I've finished my work and pass there on the afternoon... there it is. On its supposed place. More often than not, it's dry too. No buoy floating around in the water.

It took me about two weeks to notice this, and another two to actually question if it's the same guy throwing the buoy in the water every day on his way to work/school/whatever. There is consistancy in there, after all.

But one day, a week ago, I asked myself another question.

Who the hell is picking the darn thing up? Some elderly person? A guy/gal walking his dog? A genuinly good samaritan? Is it the same guy every day, or do they work in shifts?

Why do they keep bothering? There's a five meter drop to the water on the side the buoy is hung. Just below the surface there is a concrete block. And stones. Sharp stones. The water ain't more than forty centimeters deep for a good five meters out.

A life buoy ain't going to do a hell of a lot of good there. Even if someone manages to fall down there, unlikely as it is, drowning is going to be the least of his troubles. A concussion - at best - would be more likely.

Doesn't it get bothersome? It can't be easy picking that buoy up. Is it even worth it, in the end? It's usually drifting five meters from shore - shore that is damned hard to access seeing as it consists of huge chunks of concete at a 45 degree or worse angle.

There's a hole in the concrete-clad shore at one point, two meters wide. One day, the buoy had gotten stuck within it, not getting out because of the relentless stream.

I found myself staring amusedly, even snickering, thinking "Solve that one. Balls in your court now." before I left to get a burger.

Three hours later? Whadd'ya know. The buoy. On dry land, hanging neatly on its little hook.

I'm pretty convinced he had to use a rope to get it up from there.

And again I found myself staring, this time in shock; "Touché."

And again I found myself asking, "Why, you old coot!"

Perhaps this person finds solace in knowing that, in the unlikely event that someone DOES fall down, that said person got off of the fall unharmed, and maybe, just maybe, got carried away by the stream. If all that happened, and someone was present to throw the buoy... then he, very likely, would've helped save a life.

Maybe he's into statistics?

Or could it be that this person just cannot stand the chaos? He feels a lot better knowing that the buoy is where it should. Perhaps even suffers from a compulsive personality disorder?

I'd like to think that perhaps this person can't swim himself. And if he should fall over the edge, there'd be something there to save him.

Or perhaps he doesn't care for peoples well-being at all?

What if there's someone with "buoy guy" as his work description? Hired by the community to make sure every life buoy is present, every day.

A guy that completes a route around the city every day, a truck full of hundreds of buoy's. Perhaps he even collects the discarded ones down the stream.

If there is, I truly feel sorry for him. That's one job I never would like to possess. Just imagine the responsibility; you just never know.

And could it be that the culprit, the guy that throws the buoy in the water every day, started asking himself these questions as well. Perhaps it started out as a prank, an act of every-day rebellion, but then he got curious. Wanted to push the limit. How much can this samaritan take before he goes over the edge? Before he ambushes him from the bushes, shotgun in hand?

Perhaps he'll even throw the culprit in the river. Wouldn't that be deliciously ironic?

And if he did, would he toss him the buoy as well?

I contemplated taking a day off one day, just to see the events at the dam play off. To see who the culprit is and, more importantly, who the samaritan is. Perhaps I'd buy them coffee and get to know them a bit. At the same time, of course, but I wouldn't tell them who the other guy is.

Then I think, maybe I'd rather not know. Maybe I'd rather just think of it, as a mystery, y'know? Because after all, when all is said and done, perhaps I'd find the answers I get lacking.