by Nick Gisburne
Prohibited pollutants taint the rain.
Acidics help to sterilise her sight,
But each electric particle of brain
Identifies more damage as they bite.
Diverted to a spillage strip, too soon,
She finds infection crisis crews still here,
But time is always ticking on the Moon;
A thousand homesteads need this country clear.
Her power cell will atomise in weeks,
But, while it works, she fortifies the Net.
Detecting instabilities, she tweaks
Compression codes, to counter any threat.
Assigned to keep new immigrants alive,
Without her, no one, nothing, could survive.
