It was November in the Northwest and everybody was living under a winter tarp of misty rain and clouds the color of a confederate soldier's uniform. She was flying to see me but the flights into the airport were all cancelled. Fog had been thick for days so outbound airplanes were collecting on the ground and new flights were being diverted. My friend was coming by bus- a Greyhound on a gray evening. I got to the bus station early. I always arrive early so that I am never late. Being on time is one of my neuroses. The station was crowded and there were few places to sit. I avoided the empty seat next to a girl with thick crossed legs and sat down next to a grizzled bearded man of indeterminable age. I guessed this guy was what we used to call a bum. The smell of stale beer made me sorry I hadn't chosen the chair next to big legs. The man's chin had been resting on his chest but as I sat down he looked over at me with red eyes. I nodded that silent male greeting in his general direction. The bum regarded me, then leaned into my space and speaking in a conspiratorial whisper he said "free will versus determinism -" I nodded in agreement with this philosophical whimsy. "Free will versus determinism," he began again "the question only makes sense if time is real." "If time is an illusion like everything else, then free will and determinism are one and the same thing." That kind of experience is what this book is about.