A delicate antique rose watch ticked softly on Tracy’s arm, its tiny gears a relic of a time before the Great Quiet. Beside her, Bob, a chrome-clad robot with eyes the colour of twilight, hummed in contemplation.
‘We were so busy then, Bob,’ Tracy murmured, looking at the watch. ‘Always rushing, always needing more.’ Bob glanced and saw Tracy eyeing the watch
Bob’s voice, a gentle metallic purr, filled the silence. ‘The historical logs confirm a period of significant, if somewhat frantic, activity, Tracy. But that past is clearly a bedrock. It taught us the value of stillness, of connection.’
Bob extended a pointed hand, his polished fingers reflecting the vast, star-dusted pane of the window. ‘Look now. No deadlines, no noise, just the ship, us and the infinite future.’
Tracy glanced out the window where Bob pointed and took a slow, deep breath. ‘And where are we going, Bob?’ she asked with a tinge of anticipation.
A warm, thrilling sensation expanded in her chest as Bob replied, his gaze fixed on the bright nebula ahead, ‘Forward, Tracy. Slowly but surely, the future awaits.’
