The metereologist had predicted sunny weather with partial clouds during and only in the afternoon. The city’s only meteorologist had a reputation to keep and almost all of his weather instruments, financed by the city’s coffers, were up-to-date, state-of-the-art technologies. He had a Perception II stand-alone weather station plus hand-held wind speed indicators and a handy weather forecasting quick reference card and not to mention a brand new Vantage Pro weather station for monitoring barometric pressure, temperature, humidity, rainfall, and wind speed and direction. So whenever the prediction failed, the mayor would get an ear-full of calls from angry residents demanding were had their tax money gone to and wondered out loud whether he hadn’t favored his crony friends at the time of the bidding for the equipment. Everyday the mayor would follow the day with the prediction in hand and reports from other local agencies as the day went by, gladly enough, today the prediction fulfilled its job and the mayor busied himself with other businesses that demanded his attention.

At the other end of town, a happy sunbather had just finished basking in the sun, content that the sun had come out and that finally he could show off his male bikini to the neighbors across the street who were only too willing to see what he was up to these days. Rumor had it that he had won the lottery somewhere else in the county and his lifestyle certainly fed to that gossip. Nobody knew exactly where this fellow had come from, only that one early week in May a moving van had pulled up in front of an abandoned house known to the locals as the Old Murray residence. About three weeks thereafter a classic Mercedes-Benz SSK (1928), designed by Ferdinand Porsche, drove in to the garage much to the bewilderment of the tight community. What did he want in that middle class neighborhood with a car like that and a servant at his disposal was the hot query in the mouths of much of the populace there.