First Drive

FIRST DRIVE

We came in our virtual droves

To watch her rove for the very first time.

Not yet beautiful, or elegant – none watching

Could ever claim that of the white metal box

Balanced on its six fat, coal-black wheels.

She sat there, frozen in the floodlights’ glare

Like a robot fly trapped in sky-blue amber,

Or a captured and chained alien machine,

Surrounded by wide-eyed scientists, shining

Snowman-white in their oh-so-funny bunny suits.

Some standing, some kneeling, others lying flat

On the sterilised ground like snipers,

Long-lensed cameras, not rifles, levelled

At the creature crouched there before them; all

Waiting for it to move, all waiting breathlessly

For proof its wheels really could carry its bulk

Across Barsoom –

Then one by one they were gone,

Leaving the Clean Room silent and still.

Just a single blue light, stolen from the TARDIS roof,

Blinking slowly in the corner…

I watched through four layers of glass, the first and last

Separated by several thousand miles, smiling as one by one

The engineers and techs returned and, urged on by furiously-typing

Ustream viewers – many playing truant from their

Jobs in schools and banks and bars – waved at

The camera from the floor; self-consciously at first,

Then, the party mood taking hold, more boldly:

One bravely broke into a robot dance,

Arms and legs jerking stiffly to our delight; final,

Definitive proof that rocket scientists are people too…

But as we cheered and laughed, behind him

The rover, offended by this mocking of her kind,

Said nothing. And stubbornly refused to move.

Suddenly a veritable invasion of Bunny Men –

The Clean Room packed again as The Big Moment

Approached. The rover, surrounded, brooded

On its cobalt coral mat as stalking techs walked this way and that

Around her, taking up position as the time ticked by.

Gingerly, two took up the braided, tree-trunk cable

Connecting her to her disembodied brain and we knew

Her Time was near –

“She’s moving!”...