[ WP ] The lottery is an Institution designed to catch Time Travelers .

*3, 9, 15, 21, 33, 51* 
 
 The numbers echoed in Jerry's mind as he made his way across the bustling streets of Los Angeles. Three blocks went by as he began to run out of breath, the chill of the weather becoming more suffocating; the fog from his breath more prevalent. He paid no attention to the subtleties of the backdrop: the common beggar, the vivid paintings in graffiti, the scarce businessman dealing in shady antiquities were all just one big blur to him. 
 
 *3, 9, 15, 21, 33, 51* 
 
 $ 200 million dollars. The jackpot had finally been accrued. Years of planning and deliberation; of playing the lottery, it all came down to this. He would be rich! He would finally be able to move out of his shoddy, poor excuse for a hut. He would finally escape the ghosts that plagued his every thought and action. The gypsies, the fortune tellers, they all acknowledge this day, this Friday the 13th of October, made lucky just for him, as the penance for years of unfair, undeserved squalor. 
 
 *3, 9, 15, 21, 33, 51* 
 
 He recited and recited the numbers in hopes that he would n't forget them, even as he entered the sanctuary that was the liquor store. It was his safe haven, his shelter. The yellow *Caution* sign a welcome mat, the white peeling paint a perfect imperfection. He avoided the ladder that obstructed his path to the cashier, walking around it rather than under it ( 13 years of bad luck. ) With heavy breaths of excitement muddled with exhaustion, he spoke in intervals, reciting the numbers from the bowels of his mind. 
 
 *3, 9, 15, 21, 33, 51* 
 
 As the receipt, and his results printed, a look of pure awe came across the shopkeeper's weathered face. The lights went abruptly out. A black, armored truck drove by, labeled `` Time Traveler Task Force'' in big, white, intimidating letters, its windows tinted, finished with a metallic, obsidian sheen. It left as abruptly as it had arrived, only this time, with Jerry in its interior. 
 
 He was never seen again. 
 
 All evidence that remained of his existence came in the form of a fortune, the crumbs from the cookie still staining it. 
 
 `` Today is your lucky day,'' it read, `` Lucky numbers: 3, 9,15, 21, 33, 51.''
