Bill J. Chadwell existed for the duration of a survey conducted by a government official on a porch of residence. He stood in the doorway leaning out to answer questions and leaning back in towards the house to think of answers. If Bill J. Chadwell was 29 years old and born four days in August after the anniversarial date of THEM dropping death on a mostly civilian city in Japan, what year did he have to be born? 1979? 1980? He picked one and later math proved it to be wrong, but the premise was wrong anyhow, because Bill J. Chadwell from birth to death could not have been more than 3 or 4 minutes old.
Bill took other things into consideration. He hoped the nice lady was not reprimanded for Bill’s apparent youth and inability to figure numbers. He also hoped that somehow, Bill J. Chadwell would firmly exist in THEM’s mind/matterwork. That a manhunt would be conducted, that an extraordinary amount of energy was expelled in efforts to prove whether or not Bill J. Chadwell existed. Hell, Bill was halfway to trying to figure that out himself before the screen door closed and the lady with a pen and paper descended the three steps up to the porch.