A moment

The room where the machine was housed, was a dull circular one, with a low ceiling and pipes,
wires and shafts running like a labyrinth everywhere you looked. The room was lit by diused
red lights glowing through the gaps in this labyrinth from some distant source of power. One
could barely hear anything over the hum of the machine, along with the orchestra of other
squeaks, grunts and screeches of the old parts that struggled along at the will of the operator.

She sat at the control centre, pedalling away, urging the machine to churn for another minute,
then another, then another and yet another. Her frail old figure, hunched over the control
panel, was a reflection of the rusty gears and the noisy pistons. Her skin had soaked in the smell
of rust and oil and her apron was an artwork of stains. A wall of old television sets piled as high
as the ceiling and stretching from one end of the room to the other loomed over her. But the
eyes that for years had tracked each of them with rapt attention were now lost in thoughts that
plagued her mind.

She had seen everything. Everything that the world displayed in those cathode ray screens had
to oer. She had seen days of discovery, of disaster, of war and peace, of hope and loss, and of
life and death. It was all there, in those screens. She had witnessed the life of every human,
laughed and cried until she grew so weary of it, that it all meant the same and it all stood for
nothing. And still she forced the machine to run. Coaxing it to run for another minute. Then
another. And yet another. Minutes that were created by it, just to be abused by humanity in a
carnival of their foolishness.

And that was when her will gave way. Aeons of determination crumbling to dust by a mere loss
of reason. Suddenly the machines whirred, and steadily groaned to a halt. The tired old figure
trembled as she descended from her seat. She stood by the panel, steadying herself, as she felt
her legs relax for the first time in centuries. Then looking up at the screens, she gasped.

The most beautiful sights flicked in front of her eyes. Every screen was static. Everything and
everyone that was visible on each of the screens, was caught in that moment. A moment that
extended at the breaking of her will. A moment in time that was created when she ceased
churning out minutes. Every life on the planet had ceased. Every breath was the last. In that
moment she realised the power that rested in her hands. As long as the machine kept running,
everything that stood for humanity lived, emotions flourished, society evolved, people learned,
grew, bloomed.

And as she looked at the wall of screens, all she could think of was retirement.