text: The old man rose an hour before the sun came up. He was tired, his knees were tired. He sighed. 40 years; check, start a small fire, check again. Not once in 40 years had he ever had to light his beacon. After the second check, he woke the new one. They boiled water and ate, always checking. They checked all day, and then the new one went to sleep while the old and tired man stayed awake to check for a few hours until he could wake the new one to take over. He rose an hour before the sun came up but today, he woke the new one first. "Check, start a small fire, check again." The new one nodded in affirmation and checked. He then made a small fire and checked again. Nothing, peace. This went on. One day the old and tired man noticed that the new one was visibly bored, or even disappointed, when he did his second morning check and found nothing but peace in the distance. The older of the two men sighed and laughed to himself, as he remembered when he felt the same boredom; looking off into the distance to see no burning beacon, minute after minute, day after day, year after year. But he knew how important his work was, and had grown to find great pride in it. The old and tired man died. The new one grew. Every day he rose an hour before the sun came up. He checked, started a small fire, and checked again before boiling water and eating. Years passed. He felt pride in his life's work, but the boredom was always just behind it. A decade passed. He rose an hour before the sun came up and checked. One day he woke, but he lay on his sheepskin blanket on top of the great mountain that had been his home for so long. He didnt check, but instead reflected on the old and tired man who had been his mentor. He had made jokes, and would repeat them, even though they were not very funny. He had done it because he had been alone for so long on top of this great mountain. The man who used to be the new one boiled water and ate, and for the first time since he arrived here, he skipped the first check of the day. Later he checked, saw peace in the distance, went on with his day, and went to sleep, always thinking about the old man who had told jokes. Another decade passed. The man who used to be the new one sometimes checked, resting assured that there was peace in the distance. Today he woke, and lay there on the sheepskin blanket, thinking of his family from almost 30 years ago. How he missed them, and how he missed his dog. He thought of the old man who had told jokes. "What do you call the cat that lives in my tent on top of this great mountain?" the old man had asked. "I dont know, what do you call him?" "I dont know, I dont have a cat." the old man had answered. The old man who used to be the new one rose. He boiled water and ate. He sat gazing across the ocean to the south of the great mountain where he lived. He had come to appreciate the serene beauty and had come to understand where the old man who told jokes found his appreciation for this simple life. He checked. In the distance there was a towering plume of black smoke. He was frozen, confused in every way. He knew this was exactly what his life's work was, but it wasn't ever supposed to happen. His mind raced, trying to calculate how long it had been since he checked. He had gotten up and checked once during the night, hours ago. How long had his small village and his family there been in danger? He had missed it, so he hadn't lit his beacon. He hadn't called for help. More smoke came up, but not from the beacon in the village. It came from the small circles in the distance that were home to the villagers. The old man who used to be the new one stood helpless on top of the great mountain and watched the little village burn.