“There she is. The mother of things to come…”
The two scientists, one, boyish-faced, beaming with the brilliance of a still unwritten future, the other, drawn, his fatigue visible in the waning light of his career, stared at the screen in front of them as those words drifted away fading to distant echoes in the resonant laboratory chamber. She was the first success. Finally, after years of research and toil, the trial and error had paid-off. The result: this magnificent creation, the first of her kind.
She was elegant, simple, and strong, as they had imagined her. Her long, black arms reached out beside her, twelve in total. There she lay, suspended, unmoving, yet animated with the halted breath of anticipation. Swirling visions of her possible, miraculous applications calmed at her still presence.
“She is capable.”
“Does she – ”
“I think so – ”
“Let’s find out.”
© J. Manuel Writes