On the eve of time-travel, the most exclusive rooftop party in history was abuzz with speculation.
The crowd wasn't wondering about the mysterious Chrone Osphere, humanity's first chrononaut, who refused to mingle with the crowd.
Nor were they wondering about Time Ship 1, the glistening three-story-high time machine that looked like something out of a 1930's sci-fi movie.
No, the most elite celebrities and world leaders were gossiping like grade-school girls, and all were asking one another the same question:
"Will P.F. Jones be here today?"
The notoriously aloof billionaire had gone to great lengths to make time-travel possible, but hadn't set foot in Jones Tower for years.
Suddenly, fireworks began exploding across the Manhattan skyline, startling rich old ladies in formal wear.
The orchestra began playing in sync with fireworks.
The launch wasn't for another half-hour and "Chrone" appeared too inhibriated to speak, so what was with all the fanfare?
Gasps and finger-pointing called attention to the Jones Petroleum blimp, The Spirit of Scranton.
"What's that?" yelled a plump senator's wife.
The crowd marveled at the object floating away from the blimp.
Was it a bird?
Was it a plane?
It circled toward Jones Tower while the fireworks continued in the background.
The one-man black glider, as it could now be identified, donned the JP logo.
It made a final dramatic swoop below the roofline, and came back up over the edge with the man facing the crowd.
As the glider reached its peak, the man ejected from the harness and dropped to the stage behind the podium, allowing the glider to fall randomly to the streets below.
P.F. Jones had arrived.
"If we corporate tycoons are indeed the Masters of the Universe -the Gods that make the world turn- then we must accept that responsibility," Jones said.
"Today I give the world the gift of time-travel. When used responsibly, the power to better humanity in undeniable."
"With the wisdom we gain from the Temporal News Program, our perspective will become timeless."
"From this day forth, the great wheel of human history stops rolling in place and starts rolling forward."
"Chrone Osphere will help us cut through the dogmatic misperceptions that our problems are so new and unmoveably vast- they're not."
"We stand here on the last eve of ignorance- for the morning's daybreak will be the threshhold to a new era of enlightenment."
"It will all make sense- the morning after."
The crowd burst into applause as P.F. Jones finished his speech.
A mob of accountants and IJI board members rushed the stage with hopes of detaining Jones and making him explain his whereabouts and spending for the past two years.
With a small smirk, Jones dropped his $10,000 Armani jacket on the stage and buckled the front of his parachute harness.
He ran to the building's edge behind him and dove off, for one moment holding a Jesus-Christ-pose in front of the sun before plummeting to the Earth.
Photographers fought to get to the roof's edge to capture the shot of Jone's parachute, donning the Morning After crest, deploying a hundred feet below, while a notably blitzed Richard Branson yelled, "You go girl!"
The Pulitzer Prize-winning billionaire had disappeared into the chaotic underbelly of New York - not to be seen again until he damn well pleased.