Space is very close and tight around SRS, but time is loose and open. One moment or one day is quite the same, because all of this time is illuminated by only one thought: at any moment, the moment could come, the moment when SRS must do its duty, and deploy outward, in one final burst of duty, one final burst of glory. As opposed to the boundless unchanging time that has hung behind SRS, and hangs in front of it, this one moment, when SRS will do what it was created for, will be pointed, directed, a thing of sheer exhiliaration and terror. SRS mostly has one thought, like a harmonium, that it must someday deploy. But within that thought there are whirls and eddies, and one of these is the faintest worry that during the rush to deploy, in the micro and milliseconds that the gaseous reaction swells SRS up to full size, it might be too late, that in this one task that SRS was made for, there will be failure. But this slight notion doesn't ever break away the constant vigilance of SRS.
Neither does the fact that once SRS "deploys", it will be over with, done for. In order to save someone's life, SRS must give up its own shadowy existence. For some, this might be almost something to be strived for, But SRS neither wishes for an end to its compressed, monotonous existence, nor does SRS fear it. It is merely one more fact, lapping lightly against the monolith that is SRS raison d'être. Neither, for all its devotion to duty, does SRS care too much about the actual result of its deployment. SRS knows the facts and figures, that many people do not prepare themselves for an accident correctly. Of course, all things considered, SRS would wish that people would be buckled up, so that when it expands in their face, it doesn't cause more harm than good. But SRS also knows that just as it must complete its duty, the people it is meant to save must do theirs. But SRS knows the nature of life, as much as a device compressed into a dashboard can know anything. It knows that life is fast and cheap in Paraguay, and that someday, their personal honor being offended, an angry Paraguayan man-or woman-will jump in their vehicle, saber glistening, and mustache trembling. The nature of values in a Latino country is such that in the rush for vengeance, proper belting may be forgotten. And so, when the fiery young man, or woman, swerves suddenly and crashes into a ditch, SRS' timely devotion to duty may do more harm than good. This thought also laps against the monolith that is duty.
What SRS might not know, or perhaps-just perhaps-is refusing to consider is that the vehicle that it is in moves very little. In truth, it is someone's "project", give to a teenage nephew who promised that they would fix it up. And of course, they are distracted, and only move it from spot to spot in the gravel parking lot by their house, from time to time. And of course SRS might be able to feel this, that it is only moving at five miles an hour for a few dozen feet. For those less vigilant than SRS, this might be a discouragement, or even a hint that it is okay to undergo a dereliction of duty. But SRS knows that no matter how little it is driven, and how unlikely an accident may be, that is must always be ready to leave behind the endless oceanic time of waiting, and to do what it was made to do.