The announcement of the comet's arrival was greeted with both fear and anticipation. In a thousand cities there were astronomers—both amateur and professional—who turned their telescopes to the night sky, and papers were prepared for publication by scientists and crackpots alike. It would be both an ordinary occurrence and would change everything, and people believed at first that hardly a single person would be untouched in the fervour which swept the world.
Only in Boltzman, a tiny town deep in the mountains, were the people slow to catch the fever. Instead, caught by their somnolence, they anticipated a deep sleep on the night of the comet's arrival. It was a chance to best the night sky by ignorance. They covered their dismay about the heavens by a shovel-faced refusal to bow to the excitement of the times.
For the rest of the world, the comet hanging over them like the glory of the Milky Way had shoved aside the moon, the trudge of daily existence proved to be too entrancing. Even while they turned away from the sight, they would never have been able to predict—if they had even heard of the place—that Boltzman would be the most affected by the comet's coming.
Their disinterest veiled, the people of Boltzman cast their eyes to the night sky with the rest, but only in Boltzman did the sky answer.