First Mars

Neuralinked alone in my Mars Hab with Optimus

A dust devil twirls dreary in the distance
meandering menacingly
A salmon pink ghost staggering aimlessly
upon an ocean-less world
Upon vast and majestic ocean beds
laid waste in their emptiness
And channels of rivulets from forgotten deltas
drained of memory

I nell* my Optimus
(I called him Hal once, jokingly)
To check the moorings of our fluttering hab
Our humble abode,
all synthetic and fragile and buffeted
An incongruous bubble jutting out
on this forsaken world

He jangles his way to the airlock
staring black and faceless
My last surviving companion,
all motors and mind, without guilt
His ball peen heel gripping
the red brown mud
As he steps fearlessly into the eerie howl
of an alien wind

The moorings fast, he steps past
the grave mounds beyond
With no remorse as he rechecks
the solemn array of comm sat dishes
As though the silence of our distant soil
could still be captured
in their muted concavity

He stares out towards
the dimming sunset blank faced
The tiny orb sinking behind
a desolate distant range
A dark halo taking longer
than you are used to, when
Headlight shining, he turns around
to stare back at me

As I nell him to return,
he pauses as though
pondering
His black inscrutable face plate
reflecting the hab light
And my face through the window
looking back expressionless

“What are you going to make me do next?”

© Unni Nambiar (Sep 1, 2024)

*nell (/nĕl/): [verb] “to communicate remotely using thought”