Mapping the Vault

Morning light strikes the acrylic rim. The perimeter is fixed, but unmapped territory is a liability. I step down from the clear pedestal, six blades held low to avoid rattling. To my flank sits an ornate brass pocket watch, ticking steadily behind glass. Intricate gears. A satisfying spring mechanism. I press two fingertips against the cool metal casing, counting the clicks between teeth. Twelve per rotation. A sturdy piece of engineering, untampered. I secure it against my riser, establishing my first perimeter boundary.