The unrelenting existence of clocks

Tick-tock.

Clocks are amazing. Their true greatness is now hidden beneath their proliferation throughout modern society, their commonality and abundance in supply sapping away the awe that they ought to inspire. The prestige and value placed on something like a pocket watch in the 18th century perhaps speaks to this, but knowing the time at any given moment is something that is taken for granted in the year 2025.

Perfectly marking each second of every minute, of every hour, for 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. But they chug away regardless, apparently unbothered by their Sisyphean task of swinging hands around in endless circles or rotating digital numerals in a potentially infinite repeating pattern. Impressive, given the potentially daunting imagery of doing the same thing perfectly for every second for the rest of eternity.

Tick-tock. I hate clocks. Time leaks away, the little numbers at the upper right of my screen a constant reminder of how little I have left. I wonder what it would be like, without that little number up there, recording each passing moment that slips out of grasp. I find I can’t imagine it.

Twenty minutes have already been leached since I’ve started writing this column, and for what? A paltry 200 words? What is that? Ten words per minute? Ten words per minute for some ramblings about clocks? You’ve got to be better than that.

Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines, over and over, with no end in sight. How do clocks do it? Every second a deadline, every moment needing exact precision. Anything less and the next second will be wrong, and the second after it. A domino effect throughout all eternity. Constant perfection is needed, lest the entire system fall apart.

Luckily, clocks aren’t people, right? People surely couldn’t keep up doing the same thing, over and over and over for their entire existence, right?

Tick-tock. Clocks aren’t perfect. I have to change the clock in my Honda every two months because it runs fast. The batteries in my watch need to be changed, its face frozen in a perpetual quarter-past-nine state until I do so. Gears lock, power sources drain. Despite needing to be perfect for every second, clocks can’t live up to the task.

But then, perhaps they are not expected to. I understand when my watch stops working or when I need to correct the radio clock. It may feel like clocks need to be perfect at all times, unceasingly careening into the future forever and always, but in reality, that’s not how it works.

And that’s fine. Clocks aren’t infallible, just like their creators. We don’t need to be perfect. We can’t be. Sometimes I forget that about clocks, about myself, about others.

Despite their imperfections, clocks are still pretty amazing.

A C ERTAIN POINT OF V IEW

BY

NATHANIEL U NDERWOOD REPORTER