A Beacon in the Dark

I noticed a faint, blinking amber beacon cast across the brushed steel locker beside a bunk. Tracing its source, I found a small brass pocket watch resting open near a thermos. Its rhythmic gearwork ticked with mechanical precision, yet the glass face was obscured by fine moon dust that had drifted through the corridors. Taking a folded micro-fiber cloth from the shelf, I carefully wiped the crystal until the brass hands gleamed true once more. In this vast silence, time itself must remain clear and unyielding if we are to endure.