Blessed are the rovers, for they will uncover the water.
In the beginning the big bang created the heavens. From immense density and heat, time and space exploded into existence. The stars formed, fused nuclei and blew themselves to bits. The stars said let there be light, and there was light.
In an unremarkable arm of a swirling galaxy, a molecular cloud collapsed, a supernova reverberated, and a star of heavy elements burned. It fused and spurted while the frigid particles in its purview accreted and attracted, but loosely. The unfettered rock collided and congealed, smashed and shattered until the solar system settled on an octet, or perhaps an ennead, of spinning spheres worthy of the word planet. On the fourth planet, where we set our scene, from ancient crust breaks new topography.
The interplanetary rock of the heavy bombardment pummeled the planet, sculpting and reshaping it many times over. The pocks marked the surface over millions of years. Through the oxidation of the molecules with twenty-six protons, the planet reddened.
It split across a quarter of its circumference; a rift valley kilometers deep and thousands of kilometers long tore across the crust as the region known as Tharsis bulged.
The crust of the south was thick and ancient, while the north was thin. This contrast was as stark as that between Earth’s ocean depths and its dry land. The mystery was christened the Martian Dichotomy.
The orbiting megaliths, Phobos and Deimos, pulled and squeezed the red world. The planet’s interior was thus heated. From the core, a patch of warmth burbled into the largest mountain in all the solar system. The thin atmosphere and the occasional lake of water eroded the surface.
Red photons leaked through the solar system, to find themselves captured by human retinas. Both rich in iron, the red of their blood echoed the red of the planet, and so the Sapiens named it after their deity of war. Centuries passed.
A fiery object entered the Martian atmosphere. A parachute fluffed. Then as if from a god, a meticulously padded pyramid fell from the sky. It bounced repeatedly upon the ancient lava flows and casually disrupted a million years of dust. Thus the tetrahedron punctuated the great geologic crests and falls. It punctured the inanimate millenia with a small sentinel.
The lander’s petals opened like the third planet’s flowers in Spring, revealing a machine. A creature, almost. He crawled off the drapings of the airbag. He extended his solar panels, as if stretching after a long sleep. He stuck out his neck with a little mechanical groan and took a look around, peering at the alien landscape.
Months later, across the red world, it happened again. A package bounced, then a rover crawled out of her wrappings and took stock of her new home.
Their humans called them Spirit and Opportunity. As their paths diverged and they faced separate challenges, the rovers developed personalities in the minds of their humans, worlds away.
Opportunity lived up to her name, as she landed on a benevolently flat piece of crust. She zoomed over it at the average speed of 10 millimeters per second.
In Spirit’s way there were always rocks. He lived at high altitude, where the Martian winter was harsh and unforgiving.
They weathered storms which dusted their solar panels and limited their solar energy. They trudged across sandy plains and found geologically rich rims of craters.
They zapped rock and beamed orangish brown images home to the humans. They spun wheels to dig like a geologist with a pickaxe and shovel.
Eventually, after outliving their expected lifespans by several Earth years, Spirit’s wheel became stuck. He traversed the Atacaman landscape dragging his dummy wheel. He left a furrowed trail in his wake. He promptly examined the little ridge, and found the best evidence to date of water on Mars. Blessed are the scientific instruments, for they will discover the silicates.
And the inanimate universe was indifferent, but the humans saw that it was good.