Auxiliarily Page

"They don't need you full-time anymore," said the letter from the Maritime Authority. "But we'll keep you on auxiliarily ."

Elias laughed. "I'm just the auxiliary."

One day, the biologist said, "You know, you're the only reason this island still feels alive." auxiliarily

"No," she said. "You're the memory. The main system forgets. You remember which rocks the seals prefer. You know when the gulls are about to swarm. You're not the main light anymore—but you're the reason the main light knows where to shine."

He thought about that.

One night, a storm knocked out the main power. The automated system choked on salt water and died. Elias, grumbling, climbed the tower and lit the old kerosene lamp auxiliarily. His beam cut through the dark just long enough for a fishing trawler to correct its course.

The trawlers that night saw a beam that seemed older than electricity. They called it the Ghost Light. "They don't need you full-time anymore," said the

Elias stayed on that island for another ten years. He never again lit the main beacon except in emergencies. But he repaired the foghorn's backup circuit. He trained two younger keepers auxiliarily. He kept a manual log that the automated system couldn't corrupt.