There was once a room. In this room were clocks on the old, weather-beaten walls. Disheveled, morose humans milled about in such an aimless fashion that it seemed to suggest that they were looking for something, but they were not all together sure what.

In this rather dismal place, the time flowed by in such a way that, for an ineffable reason, the people where much more like clocks, and the clocks were much more like people.

On one particularly horrid day, a clock asked of a passing human: "Human, why do you wander so?"

The human, feeling very like a clock, stared at the clock, and said in a way that made it seem like he was stating the painfully obvious: "I was made this way. Wandering is all I ever will do, and ever have done. To stop wandering would mean the end of me."

Wandering in a rather small circle in front of the clock now, the human asked of the thoughtfully ticking clock: "Clock, why do you sit on the wall and tick all the time?"

The clock was shocked. Why had he never asked himself this? "I do not know..." Said the clock. "I've been doing this as long as i can remember. Did some almighty creator put me this way? Did I simply follow as the others like me were doing? Did I just do what seemed most logical? Was I once a human?"

The clock, conflicted and distressed about all that was going through his mind, wondered: "What if I just stopped?"

And at 9:42 pm that day, the clock simply stopped ticking. The human went back to wandering as the echoing sound of one less tick resounded across the room louder than a cannon blast.