Blind Time

The man behind the large, polished desk nodded as Peter Wright entered. Wright, he said, the Oak Tool Works will require an adjuster. You're new in this office, but I've been given to understand that you have experience, are willing, intelligent, and observing. The Oak Tool Works has a special contract, and it is always taken care of by Mr. Delinge who happens to be having a vacation in an unaccessible spot. Therefore, you will pinch-hit for him.
I understand.
The president of Interplanetary Industrial Insurance nodded.
Good, he said. You are to be at their Charles Street plant at eight o'clock tonight. They are to have an accident then.
Peter Wright nodded. He turned to go, his head mulling over the myriad of questions used by the average insurance adjuster. The questions designed to uncover any possible fraud. Those designed to place the full blame of the mishap, to ascertain whether it were covered by the existing contract, to determine the exact and precise time of the accident—
What? he yelled, turning back to the executive.
The president of I.I.I. nodded wearily.
I heard you right? asked Peter incredulously.
Edwin Porter nodded.
But look, sir. An accident, by definition, is an unforeseen incident, which by common usage has come to be accepted as misfortunate, although the term 'accident' may correctly be applied to—
Wright, after you have been to the Oak Tool Works, you will become violently anti-semantic.
But look, sir. If this accident is forecast with certainty, why can't it be averted?