The little plastic box said “Lunchables”, suggesting a time frame of appropriate consumption. Time was something Carl cared about. He was a Time Keeper and for Carl, time had implications. Once, he had inadvertently made the entire eastern seaboard repeat a Friday morning by getting ready for work on a Saturday. Congress had to adjust the start of daylight savings time to fix that one.

Carl looked at his watch; it read 7:28am. He looked again at the package of ham, cheese and crackers as his belly rumbled. He sighed and put his $1.25 into the vending machine and pushed back the plastic door. Surely lunch was just a label and had no anchor in the space time continuum.

He took the package to his desk and peeled back the plastic. 7:34am.

Carl arranged his “sandwiches”, cracker, ham, cheese, into little stacks. 7:42am.

He picked up his first stack, paused, then popped the entire thing into his mouth. He glanced at his watch, 12:00pm. Carl sighed. He hadn’t wanted to go to that sales meeting anyway.