From the Book
"8:14 A.M., Pacific Standard Time San Francisco, California On the morning of the eclipse, Doreen McCloud hurried from Starbucks with the Chronicle tucked under her arm. She had a ten o'clock meeting across town and less than an hour to ride the train to her offices near the Embarcadero, Clutching her mocha and shivering at the morning chill, she strode briskly toward the underground station at Market and Castro. Glancing toward the sky, she frowned. The night's blanket of fog had yet to burn off, and the sun was only a pale glow through the mists. The eclipse was due to occur just after the four o'clock hour today—the first solar eclipse of the new millennium. It would be a shame if the fog marred the sight. She knew from the inundation in the media that the entire city was poised to celebrate the event. San Francisco could not pass up such an auspicious occasion without the
usual fanfare. Doreen shook her head at all the nonsense. With San Francisco's damned eternal fog, why did a
few extra momerits of gloom warrant such fervency? The event was not even a total eclipse."
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