As the sun rose and the morning rush hour began anew, Terry sat in the subways, in his usual spot, a cardboard sign reading "The End is Near" resting in his hands. As he sat, the multitudes of busy commuters rushed by, throwing loose change his way in the event they noticed him.
Being blind, Terry had become quite accustomed to listening. And, as the crowds rushed by, too busy to notice a small, frail blind man in the corner... Terry noticed them.
"No, honey... No, I'll probably be home late tonight. ... Yeah, well, you know Strauss. Ever the hardass..."
"I told you, man! This guy just died in the subway over on Thirteenth last night! Read all about it in the paper! From now on, I ain't goin' anywhere without my piece!"
"...lazy fucking bums. Get some damn work, willya?"
"No, it's out. I told the proctologist that I fell..."
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury... no, no, that's not it. Ahem... ladies and gentlemen of the jury... no, no..."
And, as the people of Promethan City wafted idly by, Terry stood slowly to his feet, still clutching his cardboard sign in his hands. And, in a loud voice, he began to prophesy...
"REPENT! THE END IS NEAR! TURN FROM YOUR WICKEDNESS AND CLING TO THAT WHICH IS GOOD! MAKE STRAIGHT YOUR CROOKED PATHS AND ABANDON YOUR PETTY DIFFERENCES!"
And, as usual, the people of the City scurried along, paying the old man no mind. He knew it would happen, of course... but he also knew that he had to do it. He had to. It was his compulsion. His need.
His destiny.
Terry shook his heavy head, then sank back onto the ground. In three hours, he would see Ken Shaw again. Until then, he would do what he knew he must do.
