Witnesses stood outside. They stood on a hill overlooking the town in the valley. They were awed by the sight of a fiddler perched on a roof, like a rooster on a hen house, or a weather vane. He stroke one chord. The chord strongly vibrated across the valley into the private solitude of the slumbering residents. The chord awoke the slumbering children. Steel clung into the midnight light. The lights of the city click on, the houses become alighted, one by one. A pure note lit the valley homes in the mid of night.