Jeremy Williams' life had been fairly normal from the day he was born. He was four days early, being born in late February instead of early March, and his weight was only half a pound less than the national average. Jeremy's father worked as a secretary for the FBI's public relations officer. His mother, after giving birth, decided to be a stay-at-home mom, but managed to work her job as an advice columnist for a teen magazine from home.

His whole life, Jeremy suffered from a mild form of paranoia, but he did not let it affect his social life. Only when left alone for long periods did he begin to think about what conspiracies were laid out by Them. However, he was not worried about his, or his loved-ones' lives. He could not prevent any of the conspiracies from reaching their goals, so why should he try, or even worry?

He found many friends and, by middle school, was an excellent baseball player. In fact, he did very well at whatever he put his mind to, sports or studies. He was a straight "A" student, and the star shortstop on his jr. high baseball team. In eighth grad, he set aside baseball to pursue a strong liking of mathematics. Once he entered high school, he decided to try soccer and made the freshman team. Even with the hard work he put into his soccer playing, he still found little difficulty maintaining a 3.6 GPA and a twenty-hour-a-week job.

On his sixteenth birthday, his parents bought him a new car and gave it to him after he got his driver's license. Soon after, he got his first girlfriend and, in the two and a half years of high school afterwards, had many other short-term relationships. He graduated with a 3.8 GPA and received scholarship offers from many colleges. He finally picked an art college, with a one-half tuition scholarship.

He took classes in all the art forms, but majored in photography. Just before he graduated, he began working for a major newspaper as a photographer. After a couple of years, he bought a house and started schooling himself in the art of clock making.

Shortly after, his father was laid of from his job at the FBI for undisclosed reasons. The magazine his mother was still working for, now as a senior editor, came under fire for "…selling inappropriate material to underage children…" Jeremy was furious. He began to spend less time with his family and friends and more time studying.

When he finally completed his studies, he began to make clocks. He never ordered pre-cut parts; he always insisted on making every single piece. He tore down all of the clocks he had purchased from his wall, replacing them with the most beautiful and accurate hand crafted clocks anyone had ever seen. These were the cocks he had made. Everyone who saw his clocks offered to buy them, but he refused to sell them to anyone.

The whole time he studied and made clocks, his paranoia increased. Though no one was exactly sure of what, or why, he was paranoid, he never made any attempt to explain it. His father asked them every time they talked, "Jeremy, please, whatever you're afraid of, just tell me, I'm sure I can clear it up for you." And every time Jeremy would mutter, "No thanks."

When Jeremy got married, he told his wife the reason behind many of the clocks around his house and why he refused to buy a clock or watch from any store. Or even to use one that was not made from scratch by him. When she heard his reasons, she could not help but laugh. He grew angry and vowed to prove it to her. Jeremy immediately called his father and explained, "There is a conspiracy involving clocks, Dad; I know it. The government is using them to control our lives. They send subliminal messages somehow, that's why I only use my clocks to tell time. That way I wont be easily controlled." His father chuckled, "Jeremy, the government is not using clocks to control the masses, in fact there is no conspiracy to control the masses. I don't even know how you would be able to send a message through a clock."

Jeremy had no idea what to do after that. Hi father, and the woman he loved, thought his theory was bogus. He continued making clocks, finally selling some. When his wife passed away, he marked the exact time of her death on his bedroom wall, next to the time of his birth, marriage, his parents' losing their jobs, their passing, and many other important times throughout his life.

When he felt it was time to die, he laid in bed, staring at his most beautiful clock, thinking aloud, "Was there ever really a conspiracy? Dad said the government has nothing to do with it, but maybe he didn't know. Or maybe I was being overly paranoid." He realized then that none of the clocks in the room were moving, even those powered through the wall outlets. He sat up and walked to the wall and pulled his very first clock off to look at it. Even as he wound it, the hands did not move.

"Jeremy." He looked around, not sure where his name had come from. "You were right about one thing. Clocks are being used to control the masses." He turned the clock face up and stared at it, assigning the voice to this clock.

"What was I wrong about? He reached for a marker and pulled the cap off. "You believed that the government could control the masses through clocks. In reality the government is controlled by clocks, as is every other human on this planet. We decide how long you sleep, if you get where you're going on time. We control every aspect of everyone's life. There is nothing anyone can do about it." Jeremy hung the clock back on the wall, sitting at the foot of his bed.

"Why? What do you want from humans, and how did you come to control us when it was we who created you?" He stood up again, writing on the face of the clock on the wall.

"We were placed in control the instant we were created, it is that simple. Far too simple for anyone to understand, which is exactly why we will remain in control." He lay back down in his bed, closing his eyes, imagining every clock in the entire world all stopped at the same time. An instant later Jeremy passed away, and time started again.