Despite dour predictions, the world did not in fact end. We’re still here breeding babies, kneading dough and making pemmican just like we did the day before the world was supposed to end and we’ll continue doing as our children’s children make babies of their own. We owe our good fortune to obeying the word of the Prisoner. He said with clarity and precision that the sun will flee and dark time will descend in what should be the height of the sun’s trek across the sky. But, if we release him, the sun will return and time will resume. We all listened quietly and then one by one we laughed as if the Prisoner were stepping into the slippers of the Worried Funny Man of the Village. Then darkness fell and our laughter stuck in our throats. I was among the first to call for his release. Soon others joined in. Though he had committed the most grievous of offenses, poking a fire with iron, we let him go. And with that, time resumed.