The sun shines through me, casting shadow, painfully perfect. Brass face glitters in warm golden rays, the surface is slightly oily after maintenance. 

My job is simple but crucial for the mother mechanism to work as intended. There are thirty four gears in it, all moderately clanking in unison, singing a song of metal. From time to time, the song is troubled with a loud clattering, but I am never the source. A very reliable cog. Movement is my lot, and idleness is meaningless. 

Once in a while, my brother or sister stops, no longer able to function properly, bringing the whole system to a halt, and these moments of boredom make me contemplate. 

***

‘I wonder what a cog would think of at moments like this,’ the grey-haired watchmaster murmured and sighed sentimentally. 

‘Cogs don’t think, old man,’ the owner replied. The watchmaster only smiled at his own thoughts and silly speculations. Yet again that shiny cog met his gaze. The sturdy little thing never malfunctioned and that filled the old master’s heart with warmth and memories of youth. 

‘Perhaps, but have you ever thought of that? Cogs and gears are not unlike us humans. We work in harmony, sometimes some of us stop and that calls for repairs.’

The clock owner grunted, but didn’t answer this time, seemingly lost in thought. Right after, the sound of the working mechanism broke the silence, and the time was in check again. Till the next stopping, of course.