He is employed by a business establishment lying within Sector T137.
"Your particular task concerns the man in there. We must make sure they're properly placed when adjustment begins." The Clerk glanced toward the small green stucco house. You're showing astonishing perspicacity, my black-haired friend. Starting at exactly nine o'clock." He glanced at his pocket watch. "They're adjusting Sector T137 this morning. "Big doings." The Clerk ran his expert finger down the traffic-control sheet. He came slowly out of his shed, head first, blinking and yawning in the morning sunlight. He tapped his mechanical pencil noisily against his clipboard. "For Heaven's sake," the Clerk exclaimed, hands on his hips.
The dog was asleep inside his shed, his back turned to the world. He stopped in front of the small green stucco house for a moment, and then turned up the walk, entering the back yard. The Clerk came walking hurriedly, leafing through his instructions, flipping pages and frowning. The sun shone down on the damp lawns and sidewalks, reflecting off the sparkling parked cars. SOMETHING WENT WRONG.AND ED FLETCHER GOT MIXED UP IN THE BIGGEST THING IN HIS LIFE.
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