Rain pelted the window as the wind shook it. He pulled on some woolen socks, scraped a kitchen chair out from the table, and picked up the pocket watch. It had been handed down for six generations and had landed in his possession when his father died.

He didn’t need it. He had a watch. It was a Tissot. No Rolex, granted, but not bad for an accountant. He’d thought of getting cash for the heirloom at a pawnshop, but then had thought better. He examined the pocket watch, turning it over, and thought of family members who had owned it before him. Most of them had kept it hidden away in a drawer, as far as he knew. His family wasn’t one for following each other’s dreams; only their own. Besides, he chuckled to himself, who would want to be an accountant? But it held interest for him, and interest was good in oh so many ways.

He ran his thumb over the words in pretty script at the bottom of the watch: World’s Fair Chicago 1893. What the Great Chicago Fire didn’t accomplish, the World’s Fair was designed to finish. What a morose thought! Still. Was a sullen truth worse than a happy lie? He knew he wasn’t alone in thinking that despite the story of Mrs. O’Leary’s cow, it wasn’t likely that a kicked-over lantern would have burned down over three miles of a city. Poor Mrs. O’Leary: living out her life in relative reclusion what with the notoriety of the story! But, he thought, a fire can destroy as surely without a conclusive origin as with one. And destruction is useful for someone who wants to build back better. Yes, what the Chicago fire didn’t do, a World’s Fair might. He scolded himself for thinking it. It was a nice-looking watch, after all.

He pulled an old book from his bookshelf and paged through it, not for the first time. His eyes drifted to the part about the Midway Plaisance, but despite it’s name, he didn’t feel pleased. Those at the very top of the Fair’s planning, the ones with the money, said they were celebrating the past, while in reality planning a future the unsuspecting attendees wouldn’t have believed. Albert Pike and his green ink would have approved. But he felt no attraction to the glorious accounts of the spectacle. He was not impressed, and he knew why. Over the years he had read more than he wished he had read. It had changed his initial curiosity to distaste. Oh yes. He knew why he felt no attraction. He didn’t worship their god.

He rose and went to the window. The rain had stopped and even the little droplets from the storm had found their home at the bottom of the outside sill. The Fair that changed America. Give them bread and circuses! People still wanted a progressive utopia with all of its moving parts, and those who had planned it all long ago would have been pleased to hear of it. He appreciated one thing – a very big thing: Nikola Tesla’s alternating current. History claimed Tesla’s lights illuminated the Fair as the first rays of Arcturus began to show themselves. He added Arcturus to the short list. He could appreciate a very old star such as that. Stars, after all, were time keepers, too. And light in the darkness was grand whether through electricity or nature or Spirit. Yes, there was always something to appreciate among the detritus of history.

He felt the weight of the pocket watch in his hand. And time. He could appreciate – even value – time. He stared into space. Light broke darkness with time. He needed time. The whole world needed time. Precious, precious time. He started over to his desk drawer to stow the heirloom as generations before him had done, then paused, and slipped the watch into his pocket instead.