It was time. More than time, in fact. He took out The Trumpet.

This one was midnight blue, with silver -- stars, were they? -- in the bell. This one you couldn't hardly keep in sight; it tended to vanish with vision, like something seen only in the corner of the eye.

He put it to his lips, then put in a mute and blew one crystal clear note. It hung in the air like a star.

No one noticed.

The quiet man put the trumpet away, muttering to himself, "No, it's not time yet. I'll let Gabe do it; it's his job after all."

He looked over the crowd again, and sighed, "They do a lot more good than ill. And this planet needs all the good it can get."

He picked up The Trumpet, pulled the mouthpiece, and put both back into his pack. He drained the Talisker, shook his head indulgently, and with a faint "pop" vanished, leaving in the air only a "Merry Christmas and Peace On Earth" shimmering like thousands of tiny stars.