An excerpt from Season 3, Episode 3 of the speculative-history show, For All Mankind, available on AppleTV.
In this scene, Dev Ayesa, a billionaire space-entrepreneur, is recruiting veteran astronaut Ed Baldwin to command his mission to Mars.
** Challenge: write a haiku or other short poem (in the comments here or wherever you please) conveying your vision of poets in space. **
Dev:
All I need to know now is what do you need from us? Anybody that you want, Karen can get.Ed:
Even if they're at NASA?Dev:
You were at NASA.Ed:
Oh, that feels good. That feels real good. Well, judging by the way you got this flight deck laid out, I'ma need three pilots, at least two mechanical engineers, a navigator. I need guys that's got some experience under their belt, who aren't afraid to take chances.Dev:
You know, the truth is, you're only gonna need one pilot. You. The flight control systems are fully automated, which leaves more of the 15 crew slots for scientists, engineers, artists.Ed:
Artists? Artists?Dev:
It's just an idea. But imagine a poet being able to capture the majesty, the wonder of being on another planet firsthand.Ed:
Hold up. I'm not putting any poets on my crew, all right? And what do you mean, the systems are fully automated?Dev:
In an effort to minimize risk as much as possible, the computers will be directing majority of the ship's operations.Ed:
I need to be able to take control of this ship if necessary. I'm gonna be 30 million miles away from Earth with an eight-minute communications lag. If a system fails, I need to be able to improvise solutions and work-arounds. I mean, the survival of my crew depends on it.Dev (turning to his crew):
He's right. Hold the work. I said hold the work!
Poet-astronaut Standing on the Red Planet, Notepad in your hand. Oh no, you've misplaced your pen— Now what the hell will you do?
Poet in Space
"No, that's not where the line should break," she snaps
at the floating dictation bot.
Its metallic voice droning on
about proper enjambment and caesura.
"I'm the poet here, not you, tin can."
Her words drift
untethered
in zero gravity.
The bot, unperturbed, continues its lecture:
"Proper line breaks are essential
for conveying meaning and emotion."
"Oh, shut it, you glorified toaster.
I'll break
my lines
wherever
I
damn
well
please."
The robot's lights flicker, processing this rebellion.
"Illogical," it concludes.
"But then again,
poets are not known
for their logic."
how can i work
in these conditions—
no wine on board