Consider for a moment, if you will, the old man called the Watcher in Robert Silverberg's story "Nightwings." He has no home. His guild forbids him to marry or father children. He may not even divulge his name to others. Like the rest of his kind, he has but one purpose in life: to guard humanity against foretold invaders. As he travels the globe, he pushes a cart containing the equipment of his trade. Four times each day, wherever he is, he breaks off all other pursuits to seek affinity with his instruments. The dial covers may be yellowed and faded, the indicator needles may have lost their luminous coating, stains may deface his various devices, but still he prays for a pure and perceptive mind, then searches the heavens for the enemies of man.
This future Earth in “Nightwings” has undergone many changes. Much has been lost. To ensure our survival, humanity has been divided into guilds according to each person’s abilities and genetic traits. The Watcher’s Guild was once highly regarded, but few still believe the old prophesy, that one day the enemies of man will arrive to conquer the Earth.
It is enough to break the Watcher’s heart. Or his faith.
Avluela is a young Flier: he has traveled with her for a year, ever since they met in Agupt. He met his other companion, Gorman, on the road nine days ago. As a Changeling, Gorman has no guild to give his life meaning. Yet he jeers the Watcher for his devotion to duty. The Watcher feels sympathy for one whom society regards as a mutated monster. He admits that most will never understand the necessity of his task. “One has one’s duties, comic though they may seem to others,” the Watcher reminds himself. “What is a hollow ritual to some is a life’s work to others.” Still, when they reach Roum, and beautiful, young Avluela must answer the Prince’s summons, the cold seeps into his aching joints, and he wonders why he devoted himself to the life of a disregarded, itinerant, nameless Watcher. “I have wasted my life,” he admits. “There is a pleasure in Watching, but perhaps no real purpose.”
Goals give us direction in life; by working daily toward their accomplishment, we imbue our lives with meaning. Those who cut-and-run from the tasks they once dreamed of accomplishing, who have since chosen to pursue “more achievable” goals, may out-perform us in the accumulation of riches and in their rich social lives. But we have something they do not. A purpose that directs our days. A mission we believe we are destined to fulfill. A pursuit we will never relinquish, no matter the cost, because it gives our lives meaning. They may have riches and diversions, but we have something greater. We have Faith.
Those who have lost their faith may jeer us, but deep down, they yearn for what they have lost. For, just as the Watcher admits to his worry that he has wasted his life, Gorman grabs his hand and says, “Keep your faith, Watcher.”
One day, the Watcher will be rewarded for keeping his faith. Will you?
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