My plans were quite simple: I would take over (by force) the Time Service Department of the Navel Observatory in Washington DC, and from there control every unit of measurement on this Earth due to the fact that every measurement is based on time itself, and time depended on this observatory. The meter is based on the distance light travels in a certain amount of time, the liter is based on the meter, and the gram, is based on the liter. Therefore, every possible measurement the world could take would depend on me if I could only get my hands on that observatory.

You see, in that observatory, the US Navy kept its thirty one cesium atomic clocks in separate environment chambers (kept anywhere from forty six to sixty degrees Kelvin) in order to tell the time as exactly as humanly possible, and relay those times with eight other stations around the globe. Although these eight other stations had similar setups with atomic clocks, they were not keepers of the official time. They had their clocks for comparison alone.

It was also important for me to know that there was a mobile unit capable of relaying the time to these eight places via a satellite dish kept on its back. This vehicle (affectionately called the timemobile by myself) was parked in the rear of the building, and was to be deployed at any moment, should any threat arise at the observatory. This mobile time-van was to report immediately to the back-up station hidden within the Falcon Air-Force Base in Colorado, where the country and the world could continue to receive the time of day without trouble.

This meant that it was up to me to either act quickly, or perhaps stealthily, so that by the time they realized the threat I posed to the security of national time, the keys to the timemobile would be in my hands. Either way, it was of utmost importance that no one should reach that van before I had attained complete control over the time in this nation and thusly, the world.

Although I had originally thought that an ambush on the observatory would require a good seven or eight men, it became clear to me that any party of more than one man could prompt a clock-keeper to warm up the van and blow the entire operation. This was to be an operation of one, and although I was a little scared, I was ready.

With two suitcases full of clothes and a wallet full of all the money I could get together, I stepped into the car, and headed out to Santa Clara, California, home of the Hewlett Packard plant where they made those atomic clocks I needed to control. As I crossed the state border and entered into California, I realized that I no longer had enough money to turn around and make the trip home. There was no turning back. I was either going to have the time of day in my hands or die trying.

As I coasted into the city of Santa Clara, the little digital clock in my car hit twelve noon exactly, and a small tear rolled down my cheek. I thought about the things I had left behind, the people I would most likely never see again, and the amazing power of time and measurement that was now nearly so close to me that I could taste it in the air.