As you read this, 12 pitchers in ball parks around the world are going into their wind-ups. Seven will throw balls; four will deliver strikes. One pitcher will be taken out of the park for three runs, but don’t worry: the odds are excellent that it wasn’t your favourite team that was scored upon.
Mr. Biggles is watching Love Boat and sneezing, although there is no reason to believe that the one has anything to do with the other. As many as 30 million people may be watching with him (in the comfort of their own homes). It is unlikely that many of them are sneezing, certainly no more than 200,000. Imagine the energy involved!
Somewhere in the world, a man is quietly going insane, reading documents that have no connection to his life eight hours a day in the heart of a huge building. If something isn’t done about him soon, he may set fire to the entire fourteenth floor.
Over 200 cars are backed up on a freeway. A lot of angry people are worried about the various events they are afraid they are missing. One or two of them might actually be missing something important to their lives, but it isn’t likely.
John is getting tired of stamping plates on an assembly line.
Phyllis and Igor are enjoying the sunshine of a beautiful day, separated by less than 1,500 miles.
Hundreds of women are having children right now. Many of them (too damn many of them, if you want one man’s opinion) are doing it alone. Thousands of couples are conceiving children. Hundreds of thousands more are thinking about children (mostly favourably, thank goodness).
Joan is wondering if she will ever be loved. Sam is finally coming to terms with his homosexuality (and taking it like a man – ha ha).
At this moment, 13 different people are plotting to take over the world. Seven are film characters, four are strategists for the Kremlin and one is a third world dictator who is receiving a lot of aid, but little sympathy, from both sides. The dictator’s isn’t worth worrying about; some of his generals are already plotting his assassination.
However, that unidentified thirteenth plotter could be trouble.
Twelve thousand toilets are presently being flushed in a major metropolitan area. This indicates either the end of a quarter of football or one heck of a large coincidence. In either case, a Water Company official is contemplating a nervous breakdown.
Approximately one third of the world’s population is asleep. Shh – be very quite. That’s over a billion people, and they’ll be really pissed if you wake them up.
A wealthy industrialist is about to decide on the fate of one of his manufacturing plants. It is a decision that could put 300 porcelain unicorn makers out of work, severely crippling a small town. The industrialist is presently reading a report on the declining porcelain unicorn market, weighing this against the fact that hew grew up in the city.
At the same time, an anarchist is working on a bomb, happy in the knowledge that, even though it won’t kill more than a handful of people, he will be adding to the uncertain social climate which necessarily signal the end of the capitalist system.
A worshipper of Buddha is starting an argument with an agnostic (a lapsed Roman Catholic, to be more precise) about the price of tea in China. The bartended is watching the two closely; if the argument gets out of hand, he may have to step in and throw them both out.
Eleven thousand fathers are telling their children, “Go ask your mother.” They all augment this command with a hopelessly illogical rationale for why they cannot answer the embarrassing question. The children, who, for the most part, don’t realize that their questions are embarrassing, go off in search of their mothers.
Somewhere, it is raining. A slightly nutty scholar concludes that somewhere in the world, a great man has died. Actually, hundreds of thousands of great men and women are in various stages of dying, but none of their passings will affect history in the way the scholar is imagining.
Alfred is putting the finishing touches on a picture frame, his last before retiring. He sheds a tear at what he considers to be the greatest crime of the 20th century: the demise of the craftsman who shows pride in his work.
Jeff is cutting “I love you” out of a fast food hamburger patty as Patsy looks on in disbelief.
At this very moment, somebody is reading some words on a computer screen. This person marvels at the incredible variety of experience that awaits the billions of inhabitants of the world. This person could be you.
And, also at this very moment, a writer who has gotten far more sleep than he needs, smiles.