The Watcher

The Watcher

It was my turn to watch. I’d only been working there for 3 hours and I was given the job to watch. I should say that watching involved a lot more than just staring at the object. I was there to protect it. Make sure that it didn’t overwhelm its containment field. Make sure that no contaminants infiltrated its walls and attempted to inhabit its being and convert it to a source of destruction. 

Too many times had alien cultures been found in the makeup of things just like this, creating a new breed of being with strange colors and growths, a poison so strong that others would become sick. Nothing could change it back. People would turn a shade of green that is just not meant for humans to be. It had to be destroyed. 

Keeping everything sterile was the first task. It should have been done prior to my being there, but I knew it wasn’t. As I walked in I could already see that some of its creators had no gloves on. I would not be surprised if they didn’t wash their hands. And then there were all the open containers. These were to be sealed when not in use. I’m sure I heard someone cough. 

Watching its containment was easy. I just had to make sure it didn’t overflow its boundaries. It seemed to be growing as it was supposed to though I was a little concerned about the bubbles. There shouldn’t have been any. I checked with the master and she assured me that bubbles were expected in this type of operation. This wasn’t a normal operation. She explained this was an open-air attempt. The hope was that outside sources would infiltrate this substance to compound, enhance, and strengthen it. Time would tell.

I watched it for another 3 hours. Then it was taken away from me and placed in another confined space. It was subjected to increasing heat. I could stand outside the enclosure and watch through a secure windowed panel if I wished, but there was nothing more I could do for it. The die had been cast. It would either be successful or fail to rise to the occasion. 

An hour later, it was released from confinement. It was allowed to breathe out in the open again. With any luck, it had survived and was able to benefit our community. Later, I watched as it was placed on a shelf in full view of the incoming seekers. I saw one person point to it and I watched as it was taken down and put to the knife. The beauty of its being, its proud appearance, its lofty smell, all this reduced to pieces as it was cut to shreds. 

It was the first time I had watched it happen in a public setting, but it wasn’t to be my last. In fact, the longer I stayed there, the more I perfected the technique myself, the more the watcher and apprentice became the master. That is why I am now the master baker. I hire others to do the watching as I run the bakery: and my specialty… is sourdough.