The lights are out
Their work is done. They pause for a wee break. Ah, says Number Nine. That was a good day. We lit up as much as we could. And now we’re done. That’s a good day.
But Number Six looks doubtful. Maybe all this work isn’t worth it. Maybe it’s not all it could have been. Maybe life could have been spent better doing something else, helping someone else, making something else tick. What the hell have I been doing? What the hell is my life?
But these thoughts don’t trouble the Town Hall light. He knows – I did my duty. I served my time. My comrades and I are…. signing out….