5pm

Vehicles constantly pass through this intersection, and no one gives any attention to a small reflection in the center of the road. When in reality this sparkle under the traffic light is a miniature probe monitoring Earth, waiting for a specific sequence of variables to become true at the same moment. This probe has been patient for millennia, until this afternoon at 5PM. Every link in the chain of events has been forged; the chain is complete.

Bill Williams, whose parents thought it would be cute to name a child William Williams, drove his old, rusty, trustworthy, pick-up truck home from work on the same roads each day for the past few years. He knew the pattern of the traffic and timing of the traffic lights, the normal joggers and walkers, even the pets and their owners along his route. He knew when someone bought a new car. He knew when repairs to structures were made. He was aware of the smallest of landscaping changes on his path. The drive was only 7 miles, but he knew every inch of it.

This afternoon Bill left work a few minutes early; he was in a hurry to get home. Not just to avoid the traffic from those who also quit work at 5PM, but to take part in a special event. Today at 7 pm there was to be a community parade. Bill was selected to be the master of ceremony. The contest was a simple paragraph recounting the reason he felt he would make a good host and representative for the annual event, in less than 100 words. Bill won the contest. It meant a great deal to him and the feeling with in him was ingrained in his short paragraph, and heard by the judges.

The prized position was nothing spectacular, just shoot the starters pistol, deliver a canned speech, and give the band the old one and-a two to get them started. A "figure head" he always called it. But this year he was chosen. This year the Master of Ceremonies was an important person, a VIP, him.