People like Samsamelo know that it takes three parts: really good, slightly bad, and no other way. It takes more and more convoluted logic as the distance between the vehicle (of Samsamelo's financial success) and the junction increases, and the distance between the junction and the people increases, to dismiss what is clearly plenty of ways–to just about everyone except those who directly and immediately financially benefit–into an inevitability. But believing in real world carriage (or, later, trolley) problems is the first step. Once someone believes they can exist, then it's just a matter of convincing them (and possibly themselves) that they are in one, and that the convincer is who best knows how to handle it, and–again –convincing is what people like Samsamelo do best.
So, Samsamelo learns about ForgottenToTime's new trolley invention. He uses his money, which by now has grown thanks to his ability to lie (and possibly steal) and was started thanks to his born-with cushion to take risks and fail as many times as he wants, to buy ForgottenToTime's company. And, to paraphrase Nedroid / Anthony Clark, soon Samsamelo was saying proudly “I made this trolley” (under breath:) “company's incremental increase in apparent investor value.”
And how did he do it? Well, he asks the engineers: “How long until the trolley is ready?”
The engineers say: “Well, that depends. If you mean, when can we put a machine on a track and have it move forward, we can do that today. It basically falls apart within two minutes and it requires someone to stand in front of it and pull, which of course is extremely dangerous. If you are asking when it can be made to last more than two minutes outside of a lab, and maybe not pulled by a person but in a strictly controlled test environment… Maybe 20 years.”
He says: “Impossible! I need it in two months.”
The engineers say: “That's impossible.”