I don’t think that’s really germaine to the central theme of the story. We’re not just waiting for the owner to throw the stick. We’re waiting for the owner that never comes. Too late we realize that there is no owner, only us. We are the stick, thrown forward in time by our ancestors, but by the point we realize it, there’s no time left to throw the stick ourselves, only just enough to throw the next generation and hope they can break the cycle.