The landscape in the outlays is much different than Roanoke. It is flat and dirty. Pockets of settlements are few and distant. They are like green splattered raindrops. We drove for miles of flat road. The sky was everywhere. It was heavy, suppressing the land. As if the martian earth was cowed and browbeaten by the horizon. I hunched over to look out the window at the clouds scraped across the sky.
"So boys. We're going to be housing you. I expect some honesty." David said.
"Yes sir." Honesty was something unequivocal.
"Tell me. Are you really hear just for the dogs?"
"David, perhaps this is not the best time." Said Elizabeth.
"No. They are going to be in our house. I want to know--from their own mouths--what they are here for. So, boys. What are you here for?"
"We are here to patrol the perimiter of the outlays to protect the citizens of Mars from dogs attacks and any threat to their safety." Simple answer. What else was there?
"Thank you boys." Said Elizabeth.
"And any threat to our safety. Do you expect any other threat than dogs, boys?"
"No sir."
"And dogs are such a menace that the Martian government needed to," David paused, "needed you?"
"Yes sir. It appears so, sir." Rudimentary questions. I had expected a little more intelligence from the outlay terrafarmers. I had heard the stereotypes, but I didn't believe that the outlay citizens were any less intelligent than the city citizens. I imagined that Balthasar was doing his best to be courteous here. I saw the suprised look on all of our faces.
"David, they are telling the truth that they know. Don't press them. They've travelled all day. We'll have plenty of time for this discussion. They will be with us for a long time. Thank you, boys. I hope your ride to the outlays was pleasant. I hear Roanoke is very pretty this time of year. I've only been in the winter."
"Yes Mrs." I did not know their last name. "Yes, Mrs. Elizabeth." She smiled.
"Eltsina. Elizabeth Eltsina."
"Thank you, Mrs. Eltsina. Though we didn't get out much into Roanoke. We were very busy at the orphanage. It was a very beautiful orphanage though. We had many parks to study in."
"I'm sure you did. There are not many parks at our settlement." Said David. "But it is very beautiful."
"Yes, David. We love it very much. We are happy that you boys are here to protect it."

* * *

A dirty red spot on the horizon marked the arrival of our host family. We were sitting on the ground, flat-footed, resting on our haunches, our arms crossed over our knees, staring. The red dust was swirling in front of us like some kind of smoldering beacon. I felt like the pillar of God was tired of leading us and coming to take us away. It took ten minutes for the transport to pull up beside ours. Our driver got out to greet our host family. We sat, tense, with heavy lidded eyes. The side door of the host family transport slid open like a sharp intake of breath. A small face stared out of the shadows at us. We stared back. The driver and passenger doors opened and a man and woman stepped out. They approached our driver. The man was around five foot ten, thick and square. He had thick hair, dark brown and dark tanned arms. He walked intentionally, like his steps were planned for him. The woman was maybe an inch shorter than him, reedy. She had thick skin. She breathed through her mouth, slightly open, showing yellow teeth. Her hair was yellow like a wheat field and coarse. She walked to a beat, ceremonially, like a coronation. They were both so silent. Balthasar shifted. The woman slowly turned her head toward us and back toward our driver, expressionless. The small face in the shadows continued to stare. They stopped in front of the driver. He said hello and shook hands with the man.
"Let's meet them." Said the man. Our driver looked at us. We stood up. They walked toward us. Slowly.

The man drew within 5 feet of us and nodded. He stopped. We nodded.
"This is Elizabeth, my wife." She looked at each of us.
"A pleasure." She said. Maybe, for her. I didn't think so.
"Balthasar."
"Cadmus."
"Aaron Aadi."
"David." He said. "I heard about your names. Interesting."
We were never briefed on how to interact like this. We just stared at them.
"I'd like you to meet our son, Jack. Jack!" He yelled his name, and the small face stepped out into the Martian sunlight and turned into a young boy, probably 12. He walked toward us, eyes wide. He was a boy. Small features, soft skin, big eyes, thin fingernails. His hair was brown, his eyes were blue. His hair was soft, bouncing in the wind. He walked directly toward Cadmus and stopped in front of him. He looked at his father, and back at Cadmus.
"Hi." Said Cadmus. He looked at David, and back at us and down toward the child. He was nervous. The boy just looked at him with his big eyes. Then he reached out and touched Cadmus' new arm. Cadmus flinched. and stepped one foot backwards.
"I don't. I mean. I." The boy grabbed his arm and started shaking it. Cadmus was frozen, filled with uncertainty, his eyes were enormous and his mouth was wide open. The boy put his face against Cadmus' arm and lifted his feet in the air, putting all of his weight on Cadmus.
"I. Holy. I mean. Hi, Jack?" Cadmus was terrified. Balthasar and I looked at each other and tried to hold in a laugh. I was relieved it was Cadmus and not me.

David began to laugh. It sounded like galloping horses. Cadmus looked at him and smiled nervously. Jack was still hanging off of his arm.
"I'm Jack."
"Hi. I'm Cadmus."
Elizabeth was smiling. Her teeth were glinting.
David spoke.
"Afraid of children. Well then. Your meals are not free." He chuckled.
"I'm not afraid," said Jack.
"I've never met a kid before. I mean, not since I was a kid." Said Cadmus.
"Well. You'll get used to him." Jack dropped to the ground and stood underneath his father. David put his hand on his head.
"We're an hour away from the farm. We need to get going. You'll meet our daughter at home. She is preparing dinner. I want to warn you, in case you're afraid of little girls, too."
Our driver nodded at us and shook David's hand again. "I am leaving. Boys, don't forget to report to the general tonight. Goodbye."
"Well then, boys. Get in the transport. We have some travelling to do."

What have I asked for from this life? Peace? Love? Hope? I have never asked for it. I have wished. Wished to touch someone so softly I can feel the body's landscape with each whirl and ridge of my fingertips. Wished to wake up in the morning green like new leaves, fresh and quivering. I've longed to walk more than two steps without a care of what will happen in the next two steps. Wished, in fact, that I could set out walking in one direction and years later find myself in the same spot, full, content, larger. I have wished that I knew what love was.

Love! What more than a science experiment half fulfilled in my life? My family was creating a thing of beauty in me, raising it, engineering a skeleton, adding flesh and animation, and halfway through they were killed. And I am left, a monster. Shambling through life. Taking instructions from anyone who gives it to me. Hideous and terrible, worthless. People stare and scream or cheer and wave or glare at me with hate. I am a freak. Who can teach me the rest of love? Who can make me whole? There are parts inside of me that turn without purpose. Gears that grind for nothing. My heart must be pale, yellow, wan.

I have wished to go back again to that time. I believed everything. I was peace and my cadre was hope and love. My father taught us diligence, my mother taught us grace. We trained every day with instruments of joy. Oh the depth of my soul! What silt has been deposited that you've learned to settle so well!

And there we were. At an empty intersection in an empty area of the outlays, waiting for the next transport. Waiting like nothing more than chattel, ferried off as so much movable property. And I wished that where we were going, the people would like me.
Cadmus looked at me, "Get over it, Aaron."
"We'll take care of you." Said Balthasar.
"Yeah. Hope and Love."
They looked at each other and shrugged. Those gears, those gears.

"They don't like us here," Cadmus aimed his arm at the window, "bang! Bang!"
"Cadmus, careful. Don't act that way." Said Balthasar. "They don't know us. They're acting in whatever way they know how. They don't understand."
Cadmus just laughed. I felt that familiar pang of longing and sadness seep into my stomach.
"Balthasar's right. They don't know any better. It's the same thing. Same as the people who were scared at our graduation. Same as the people cheering for us back in the city."
"Whatever, Aaron. Don't put your own feelings on them. Maybe they do know what we are. Maybe they do know what we're capable of. Maybe that's why they're angry. Maybe they're right. Anyway, they're stuck with us now. I don't think they asked for us anymore than we asked for this." He shook his arm and laughed. "Don't get me wrong. I love it. "
"Either way,Cadmus, we don't know. We don't need to. We're just supposed to protect them, so they don't have to go through what we've been through."
Balthasar let out his laugh like a pulse beam.
"Yeah, let's just drop it, okay, B? Thanks. I'm glad you're happy." Cadmus turned toward the window.

I stared out the window as more people lined the streets. There was an infrequent barrage of fruit and debris hurled at our transporter for what seemed like hours. I expected this expanse of cramped Roanoke to end shortly. It didn't. The terraformed bubbles were less pronounced here, they bled into each other wildly, oaks raggedly growing through elms, and underbrush crawling up and out through the canopy. The houses were small and seemed to cower under the green expanse. There were people staring down at us from the tree branches. Lean-tos were erected in their branches. Trash flitted through the streets. Mothers with babies at their feet stared at us as we drove by. They didn't seem to care that they were staring at us. It made me feel awkward and different. I tried to put my arm out of sight. My arm itched.

It was everywhere. And it was staring at me. I remembered a word that they used about Earth back at the orphanage. Impoverished: lacking wealth and resources, synonyms: destitution, depleted, poor. This was a word we never taught in regard to Mars. It came to me suddenly. Mars was impoverished. I had no idea why. Now I know the theories. There are a few. One states that because of the dog attacks, which my superior alluded to, the people--who were naturally inclined toward progress and success--were scared into lethargy and shock; resulting in a mass influx back into the Roanoke suburbs, which in turn resulted in a lack of employment and resources for this population that was expected to be working diligently in the outlays, progressing the subduction of the martian terrain.

Another theory posited that with subsequent "true" generations of martian born children, peace and tranquility bred laziness and and sloth and created a generation of slacker children who chose to live off of the scant resources of Roanoke. As Roanoke is a successfullysubdued area and survives via the massive output of arboreal oxygenation, the climate and terrain is much more suitable to choose a life of poverty than any natural landscape back on Earth. Thus, living below the poverty level of Mars is much easier to survive in and living in poverty is less of a detracting motivator than it would have been on Earth, causing more people to choose it on Mars. This theory is primarily held by the outlay terrafarmers. It has been discarded by the academics of Mars as regional bias, but is still held by many outlay terrafarmers.

Finally, a growing theory on the poverty stricken martian suburbs states that the Martian government was never prepared for the enormous success of the terraformation of Mars, and is ill-equipped to govern and legislate the populace of Roanake, let alone any other city outcropping that will inevitably arise in the future of Mars. Proponents of this theory argue that with the rapid growth and expansion of Mars,subdued lands will eventually form new governments and provinces out of the control of the central Martian Government, plunging the Martian society into an earthly bickering stratified society. They imagine the terraformed communities to purposefully let the subduction of areas fall into disrepair when their community and land is stewarded well enough to create a self-sustaining community, thus creating new cultures and languages capable of ignoring the Martian Government. Shortly after these new cultures are created, land disputes and cultural clashes will arise, eventually leading into hostility and even perhaps outright violence, skirmishes and warfare. This dystopian theory is flatly denounced by the Central Martian Government as preposterous.

Eventually we made our way onto the freeway and toward the outlays. It was a four hour trip to our assigned area. We would be dropped off and picked up by our host families who would take us to our lodgings. From there we would report to our field general on our successful arrival and begin our acclimation.

"Don't mind them. They're excited."

It was a bit disconcerting, seeing the peoples' excitement. They were so wild, so different than the orphanage. They wore all sorts of clothes and didn't heed any rules. As we drove out of downtown, the celebrations became more orderly; families waving flags and kids riding on bikes beside our transporters. It seemed so fake. Still, for all of the fervor and excitement of the people, I felt lonely. They were not cheering for me. They were cheering for the idea of me.

The farther we travelled outside of the city heart, the less celebrations we encountered. Sure, when we reached a bubble core there were makeshift celebrations, but nothing like the revelry at core. It was interesting to see so many people. They were all so different. And apart from the people at the parades, I had no idea what they were doing. What did a normal person do all day? I was sure the terrafarmers planted seeds all day. But these people? Did they just sit around and invent things? Walk in parks? Eat all day? These people were at the heart of the martian civilization, what did they have to worry about? Why were they so happy about us?

I had no answers. Soon we came into a region that seemed dirtier, more overgrown. The houses were close together and trees and foliage were growing over them. The streets were thinner and roots were growing under them. The people here were wearing drab clothes. If they were moving, they were moving slowly and seemingly without purpose. It was dark here, with all of the branhes and leaves blocking out the sky. Some people were sleeping on trees, some were staring at us as we drove by. They were all dirty. Their eyes were hard. And there were many of them. They were everywhere. I saw a man sleeping beside the road, his body curled around himself like a ball of string. There was only tattered brown clothing on him. His feet were large and covered in callouses. His hair was long and wild and matted together in thick patches. His face was dark, plump and wrinkled. There was a tattered broom beside him that rustled as traffic sped by him. He did not move. I looked at his leg as we drove near. There was a hand sized open wound just below his knee. The edge of it was crusted in dirt, but the inside was vibrant and red. I could have reached into it and touched moving parts. Other men ambled around him and made no effort to help him. In fact, it was if they did not even see him. I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

He seemed to decomposing into the ground, his flesh becoming dirt, his bones hardening into rocks. I felt my stomach turn. I wanted to help him.
"What's wrong with that man?"
"He's homeless. He doesn't have anywhere to live."
"Why not? Why doesn't anyone help him?"
"There isn't anyone to help him. He probably moved into the city from the outlays, like a refugee. A lot of them come after a settlement has been ravaged by dog attacks. Those people have lost everything. They don't have anything to live for, so they come here.There aren't many places for them except this area of Roanoke. And even here there aren't enough people to help."
"But he must be dying. Look at him."
"Some people just give up. They can't be helped. This is why we need to protect the outlays. If we help the terrafarmers, there may not have to be anyone like this here in Roanoke."
"Are they all from the outlays?"
"No. Not all of them."
"Why then, are they homeless?"
"That's complicated, Aaron. Your job is to help those that you can. Leave those questions to the government of Mars. Their job is to bring prosperity to Mars. Your job is to protect it."
"Yes sir."

I looked out the window just as a man was throwing something at our transporter. A large rotten pear splattered across the side window.

For Those of You Debating Blogging, A Wiki for You:

Blogging?

We finished with the questions and were escorted back to the orphanage, where we were treated to a celebration dinner that lasted late into the evening. The next day we said our goodbyes to the younger classes. We had grown bonds teaching them, and were sad to leave them. But the draw of the rest of the world was great, and I was ready to see what Mars was like. The day after we were briefed by our group leaders. We were assigned a region of the outlays to protect and monitor for any signs of dog attacks. Our capabilities and training allowed us great range around the outlays, which would slightly overlay the range of the next nearest group of guardians. We would be grouped into our familiar cell groups. Balthasar and Cadmus would accompany me. We would be taken in by a local family that would house and feed us for a stipend from the government. This was to promote crosscultural understanding. Therefore, we were to not only be guardians, but ambassadors of the orphanage. We were trained how to interact with families.

"Call the mother, mrs. whatever and the father, sir. Be respectful of their opinions. Always say thank you for their food and lodging. Don't let them see your upper body without a shirt on, they might be frightened by your arm. Don't be alarmed if they want to touch your arm. You should let them.

The outlays are a rural community like those back on Earth. They value community events and rely on each other to subdue the landscape. You should expect lots of dances and community meals. You are not, however, expected to dance. While at an event, be ever vigilant of any dog attack. Yo are not to imbide in any alcoholic beverage to the point of intoxication.

"Avoid any relationships with girls for at least a year of deployment. Until that point, conversations with any female is to be avoided. Although you were trained to control your emotions, you have not had significant training in suppressing amorous desires. It willtake at least a year of training and study before any series of serious conversations with girls of your own age are to be attempted, perhaps longer. Expect advances from some women who find you intriguing. Avoid this. Keep your minds and bodies ever vigilant to the protection of the outlays. Succumbing to their advances would degrade our ability to protect them against any harm.

"Expect parties upon our arrival celebrating our presence. Attend and enjoy your time, yet stay vigilant. Expect many questions from them that you won't expect. Remember your training and your principles. We are to act in accordance with our mission and values to protect and respect the people of Mars. Potentially inciteful questions may be asked, remember, we are here to protect them, not provoke them. If they upset you, politely disengage from the conversation and return to your guard post. Remember, do not respond in violence for any reason. If they advance on you, use evasive action to elude their aggression. You are far more prepared for combat than any outlay terrafarmer, you have no excuse to engage in combat with them. It would be an aggregious crime for you to do so.

"You will have a general posted between every group circumference whom you will report to bi-monthly, and directly after any engagement with dogs. Every month you will meet with two other teams in the area to strategize over recent dog movements and patterns. In the event of a dog attack, you will alert your nearest brother group to the attack and request reinforcements as deemed necessary. After attack, immediatley brief not just your general, but the two brother groups adjacent to you sphere. Whenever possible, lure the dogs into the far outlays to avoid the witness of the terrafarmers. It will be best for them to only know of the work you do, not see it. They are civilians, unused to the sight of violence. Any skirmish, whether it is successful or not, will incite fear in the outlayers.

"You will take a goverment transporter to your designation and will be introduced to your host family. Take in the sights of Mars. You are here to protect all of it. Some parts are not as beautiful as others. Some are less populated. Some are in need of repair. You are not here to protect Mars because it is beautiful, though it is. You are here to protect Mars so that we can realize its full beauty and fix its ailments in peace.

"Before you leave, we have a special gift for you all. You will receive it tomorrow. We are very proud of you all and wish you the best of luck. Stay true to the course that has been set for you and you will become heroes for many generations to come. You will be pivotal to the success of Mars. Congratulations, boys."

The next day we were woken up and escorted into the large anteroom of the orphanage. there were the familiar upgrade physicians waiting for us before the door. The next youngest class was lining the walls of the room. Behind the doctors were our teachers and superiors. Beside the physicians was a large, room sized storage container draped in crimson cloth. We were escorted to the front of the line and were met by our principal. "Children of Mars. I am so very proud of you. As you embark on your new journey that you have prepared so diligently for, we are so very pleased to present you with this gift. Bade Abba, please step forward and receive your gift."
Bade Abba stepped forward, the crimson cloth was taken off of the large container, and Samantha came out carrying a new arm. The physician took it, removed Bade's arm, and replaced it with the new one. It was an upgrade, personalized with our class symbol, our specialist symbol, and our own field moniker. It was sleeker, more fluid and slick than our old arms. The symbols were emblazened in crimson on the shoulder, the inside of the bicep region, and the forearm. They were terrific.
"You, my dear children, are now men of Mars! These arms have no safety override. We trust you with our very lives. Congratulations."

We were each outfitted, one by one. It was a stately ceremony. The younger class looked on with awe and hunger. Those of us in line waited patiently for our new arms. My turn came and I was fitted. The familiar tingling sensation filled my body. The same sense that this arm wanted to move came over me. It seemed ready. I could feel its power. It wanted me to use it, to try its upgrades. It was impatient. I was ready to leave.

We convened with our groups and into the goverment transporters. Each one held 10 people, three groups and one general. We moved out of the compound, past the trees, the elders of mars, out of our lives and into the streets of Roanoke.

The caravan of five transporters turned into the city, and into a giant celebration. The streets were lined with people throwing confetti into the air, singing songs, waving flags and dancing. All of a sudden people started running beside the transporters, banging on the doors, shouting at us. I remembered the history lessons on riots. This seemed like one. I wasn't sure if they were happy or not. It was pandemonium. There were fireworks going off in the sky, loud music was blaring out of windows, colorful debris was flying through the air. horns were honking, our transporters were shaking from the force of the masses pressing against it. We moved on, slowly, as if swimming upstream in a sea of humanity. Like Moses opening the red sea.

A loud thump resounded beside me. A man with an open grinning mouth and wild hair had one hand pressed against the window. His eye tooth was crooked and yellow. His other hand was beating against the transporter. I looked at what the man had smacked on the car. A newspaper was plastered between his hand and the glass. It was the Martian Free Press. There was a picture of us with our enhanced arms raised aloft into the air with a blaze of light shining out of them. Above the photograph, in big bold letters, the headline yelled:

"Rocket Boys Unleashed!"

"Zevi Avedis, Artillery." And the music stopped. And we stood in formation. And the Minister of Defense walked toward the podium. He shook hands with our Principal and addressed the crowd.
"People of Mars. These are our guardians!" There was a general murmur in the crowd, followed by a smattering of clapping.
"These young men have dedicated their lives to serving our new world. They have been purified through calamity, strengthened through personal loss. All of them have suffered at the fangs of dog attacks. They have lost mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers. They have lost their own arms. And they have sworn to protect the rest of Mars from the hideous destruction they have suffered." Again, a general sense of uneasiness and confusion filled the stadium. The crowd didn't seemed scared as much as confused. They had never seen the likes of us and didn't know how to react. There was a tense energy above us all.
"My sojourners, my pilgrims, my Martians; we will be safe again! No more will we have to live in fear of creatures outside of our control. We will subdue and cultivate the land as we were commissioned to do so long ago. We will make this world beautiful and full of hope. Not terror and fear! Rejoice with me, my friends. We are free to dream again!"
Finally, the crowd released itself from doubt and poured out applause. It was the grandest thing I had witnessed. My body tingled. I remembered the vector plates spinning around me. I felt the same exhiliration. The crowd noise died down.

"Sons of Mars, introduce yourselves!" The Minister of Defense said.
We moved in formation, stood center stage toward the crowd, saluted in unison, raised our arms and yelled, "For the glory of Mars!" And discharged our pulse beams into the brittle sky. I was used to the sight of multiple pulse beams. They made a loudish sucking hiss noise when fired. The effect, when multiple beams were fired at once, was one of a large aircraft engine gaining velocity. We fired on cue. I was impressed with our accuracy and synchronisity. I looked down to see the reaction to our precision from the audience and the crowd was in turmoil. Their mouths were opened in unison. Many let out terrified screams. I looked up again to see if something terribly wrong had happened. The sky was empty again of our light show. I looked behind me. The Minister of Defense was staring ahead, hands clasped to the corners of the podium. I turned back. Many of us were showing signs of confusion. Everything happened as it should.

And all of a sudden, as if we had promised them riches, the crowd let out a giant roar. It was so sudden I jumped and positioned myself for defense. Their faces, in the crowd, had changed. They were jubilant. They were raucaus. They were cheering madly. I looked around. My classmates were smiling. The people did understand. They really did want us. I felt a great relief. I grabbed the nearest shoulder and shook it. Balthasar looked back at me with a grin. He let out that tearing laugh and shook his hand in the air. That moment, surrounded by such great human noise, acting like an immense semi-conductor of joy and delight, that moment of pure intentions, gratitude, and hope shook something inside of me. It was as if a secret dial had turned somewhere deep in my soul. And I had no idea to what purpose. I felt different, but I did not know how. I felt hope, but I didn't know for what. My heart was a large and golden room filled with light. I stopped cheering and stared straight ahead. I let the noise, like a martian windstorm, sweep over me. I let my emotions get the best of me. It was loud and I was happy and scared and hopeful. Beneath the gust of noise and gail of emotions--I was a little boy. I let out a sob that was lost in the din.

The noise began to ebb and the voice of our field marshal rose above it. "Sons of Mars, attention!" The rest of us had been smiling and holding hands and laughing. We instantly fell into position. He motioned to follow and exited the stage. The music began again and the crowd again cheered. They sent us off with glory. We were ushered into a large banquet hall. A representative from each specialist school had been chosen previously to answer questions from the media. We were all to be seated in the room with each representative at a large long desk facing the crowd of media.

We had a few minutes to prepare before the media came. Our principal reminded us of our training and told us how proud he was of us. I don't remember much of what he was saying. I was still halfway in another place. He was happy and nervous like a new father, that was evident. He kept clapping his hands together and fidgeting with the table clothe and chairs. The Minister of Defense came into the room and conferred with our principal. He nodded and they both sat down at the middle of the table. A man I had never seen before took a podium in front and to the side of the table and adjusted the microphone. He nodded to men standing beside the entry doors. They opened them and a stream of people filed excitedly into the room. They all had writing devices and microphones and big eyes. They all tried to sit in the front row. The men at the doors had to seat them. When they were all inside, the man at the podium talked.

"Good afternoon. Thank you all for coming. We are going to open this up to a question and answer session for the guardians and for the Minister of Defense and Merrill Lever, Principal Steward of the Mars Children of Strength Orphanage. There is a representative from each specialist training group from the school that would be happy to answer your questions. For the sake of brevity, we will limit the questions to these representatives only. Thank you again for coming, and we are excited to answer your questions. Now, Charlie, if you'd like to begin?" The questions came pouring out. These people were so eager to know about us. I'd never heard so many questions before in my life. About everything we did.
"What do you eat for dinner?"
"Ah. Whatever we have at the cafeteria."
"Do you ever miss your real arm?"
"This is better than my real arm, actually."
"Do you have to take it off?"
"No, it works just like yours. It only gets removed during upgrade overhauls?"
"What are upgrade overhauls?"
"When we get new upgrades for our arms. Things like that."
"Have you ever seen a woman before today?"
"Yes, we get to watch movies on the weekends."
"Do you like girls?"
"I guess so."
"How come you can grab things without any fingers?"
"Um. That's complicated. Ask someone in the knowledge class."
"Oakes, how come you can grab things without any fingers?"
"I don't think we have time for that question."
"What classes do you take?"
"I can answer that. Don, our curriculum is the same as an advanced preparation class in any top prep school back on earth. We tailor the teaching to challenge our students on a daily basis. We want our children to not only be exceptional guardians, but exceptional men." Said our principal.
"What is your training?"
"We train with our field specialists every day."
"We give them advance scout training similar to what a special ops team would recieve in the military back on Earth. I don't want to give away too much, but suffice to say that they are very well trained."
"Parrish, do you miss your family?"
"This is my family. These are my brothers."
"Does it ever hurt?"
"No, it feels just like the rest of me."
"Has anyone ever been injured?"
"Our children suffer minor bumps and bruises and the occasional break. Just as anyone training for combat will. But we have exceptional physicians on staff that care for any emergency that arises. Our facility and our children's enhanced arms are equiped with a safety device that allows for combat training only in combat training facilities. Every function besides remedial motions are turned off in the rest of the compound. It is highly unlikely that any of our children would be injured outside of the combat zone besides moments of clumsiness or accidental occurances."
"What's it like living with all boys."
"Its okay. They're my family."
"How come your names are so funny?"
"It's my name."
"Are you excited to see the rest of Mars."
"Yes!" The crowd of reporters chuckled at Maeron's enthusiasm.
"Well, I'm sure you'll enjoy it. There's much more to see than one park in Roanoke."

We finished with the questions and were escorted back to the orphanage.

For My Friends Who Are Not Ready For the Fall, A Song.

summersong

These are the names and order of the graduates:

Aaron Aadi, wisdom.
Abott Abhay, knowledge.
Bade Abba, artillery.
Balthasar Addo, tactics.
Cadee Abarne, knowledge.
Cadmus Akuji, artillery.
Daffyd Abdullah, wisdom.
Dimitris Audland, tactics.
Ea Abel, tactics.
Edwin Absolom, wisdom.
Fabrizio Adalia, knowledge.
Fairfax Adair, artillery.
Gabriel Adelio, tactics.
Galeno Aden, wisdom.
Hajari Aderyn, knowledge.
Hector Adlai, artillery.
Ige Altsoba, knowledge.
Ilya Amiel, wisdom.
Jamon Amiri, artillery.
Jedrek Analu, tactics.
Kafele Anando, artillery.
Kame Anemone, tactics.
Lajos Anwar, wisdom.
Laramie Alair, knowledge.
Maeron Ancelin, tactics.
Mahon Arif, wisdom.
Naolin Asa, artillery.
Nowles Ash, knowledge.
Oakes Admon, knowledge.
Orestes Aila, tactics.
Paolo Aderes, artillery.
Parrish Adora, wisdom.
Qamar Abril, knowledge.
Quasim Abia, wisdom.
Rainier Adarsh, artillery.
Reynard Atalo, tactics.
Salim Acacallis, knowledge.
Sancho Agnes, artillery.
Tao Alpana, tactics.
Tian Amaya, wisdom.
Uday Alameda, tactics.
Ulysses Alistair, wisdom.
Vadin Alma, artillery.
Virote Alohilani, knowledge.
Washi Aaliyah, artillery.
Wei Arcelia, tactics.
Xanti Agu, knowledge.
Xia Aglaia, wisdom.
Yardan Annick, tactics.
Zevi Avedis, artillery.

I heard music begin to play. It was Dmitri Shostakovich's Quartet #8. Then a voice over a microphone. Then a name, Aaron Aadi. I moved. I walked out of the curtains. I stared in front of me. There was a sea of people. Staring. Fixated on me. I couldn't imagine that this many people could fit into an arena, let alone an entire planet. I couldn't hear anything. My heart was beating like drops of water in a giant cavern, loud and reverberate. It seemed like the people were frozen, staring at me. I heard my heart beat two times inside of me. I remembered to turn at five seconds. Approach the podium. Stay stoic. Take the diploma with my enhanced arm--a gasp loud enough to swallow my heart beats--transfer it to my right hand, walk to my designated spot. Face the crowd. Wait. For one more dreadful moment the gaze of the entire crowd was drilling into me.
Then, "Abott Abhay, school of knowledge." Then, "Bade Abba, school of artillery." Then, "Balthasar Addo, tactics." Then, "Cade Abarne, school of knowledge." Then, "Cadmus Akuji, school of artillery." And my brothers, one by one, surrounded me.

In moments we were behind the stadium that would hold our graduation.

The stadium was designed with the Roman coliseum in mind. Some of the early architects of Mars had a sentimental connection to ancient models. All of the graduates were ushered into the building in a main staging area. We had been given specific instructions regarding our graduation. We were to stay unseen behind the curtain of the backstage until our names were called. We were then to walk to the podium, take our diploma with our enhanced arms, transfer it to our human hand and stand in formation to stage left. We had been given special graduation attire. A fully fitted slate gray suit, a red badge with a gold outline of Mars in themiddle on our left shoulder , a gold chevron on our right shoulder denoting our specialist role: one stripe for knowledge, two for wisdom, three for tactics, and four for artillery. A high collar with a red star pin on the right and a silver crescent moon on the left. We wore gray matching trousers, with a red stripe down the outside of each leg, and had on gray dress shoes.

Once the last graduate was called and took position, we were to march into wedge formation in front of the crowd, yell as one, "For the glory of Mars!" and fire our pulse beams three times into the air above the crowd. Every five student had been given a special data chip in his arm to release a red colored pulse beam instead of the usual yellow. It was to be a light-show depicting our everlasting dedication to the protection of Mars. We were excited to show the people of Mars what we could do.

I, named Aaron Aadi, was first in line. Balthasar was behind me, Cadmus was next. Not since my first day at the orphanage had I given a thought to the reason behind my name. I had seen teachers, movies, and educational data films of people. My human interaction was limited to students and teachers and every once in a while a visit from the government sector. The last person not involved in a hospital or the orphanage was my mother. I was terrified. I never wanted this name, Aaron Aadi. And now, the world in its lunatic way had given me the great honor, through a glitch in a computer naming system, of being the first of our class of defenders to see the outside world. I was the first impression. I, who was nowhere near as fervent as Edwin, or self-composed as Hector, was responsible for being the first ambassador for the defenders to the people of Mars. I discovered early in my stay at the orphanage that it was merely a computer generating system that produced our names. The woman at the counter responsible for our names just had to pick the next name on the list. They could track us that way, have an easy system to identify us and where we were, and to what class we belonged. The first class, my class, was the A class. The next class, B, and so on. And for some reason, for some human whim, the woman at the counter had decided to choose from the beginning of the list for me, though I was neither the first or the best student to arrive at the orphanage. And here I was.

I had been briefed by our principal on how to act. "Keep your shoulders straight. Don't look directly at anyone in the crowd. Stick to your training cadence. Pause at the beginning for 5 seconds before you begin your walk toward the podium. Make sure your arm is set correctly for the magnetic field conductor, you don't want to start this ceremony by dropping your diploma. Shake my hand firmly. Turn, and walk with your same training cadence to your designated spot. When the next person stands beside you, do not congratulate them. Stay in formation and exhibit the same self control that we have come to expect out of all our graduate students. Aaron, it is an honor to be in your position. Treat it as such. If you understand theprivilege, you will excel at the task you have been given. Make us proud, son."
"Yes sir."

Of course. Yes. An honor. To stand in front of a bunch of curio seekers like a novelty. What a privilege. But that was not how I was trained to think. I remember being frightened by my lack of control. Frightened at how easy it was to entertain thoughts unhealthy to me when fear and anticipation were added. This was why we were trained so extensively in self control in any environment the teachers could think of. But the real thing, the goal to which the tests were a preparation for, caused much more temptation to think freely than I imagined. I focused on how I was trained for the last 12 years to protect these people in whatever circumstance imaginable. That I was charged to save lives and prevent needless death. I was trained to control the uncontrollable.

And to waiver now under the threat of social judgment, would be a grave dissapointment. The time drew nearer. We were in line. People were talking around me, the stewards and teachers responsible for making sure we were in position were a dull drone in my ears. I moved and thought as if detached from the reality of time. As if time moved too fast for me, and I could not keep up to the seconds. I kept checking my arm to make sure it was on the right setting. Which was absurd, because that setting was not just second nature, it was nature. It was the most fundamental setting, the one which controlled the mundane aspects of everyday living. The one we had been trained to use from the first day of training. Yet I continued to check it.

How strange it was for me to feel such nervousness. It was as if, somehow, the vast and terrifying world had coalesced into one stadium and was staring in anticipation, waiting to devour me when my name was called and I appeared from behind the curtains. Yet it was just a crowd of people. I was innocent to Mars. The only memory I had was of the farm. There was no terrible expectation of what life could do to me. I knew I had dealt with the worst already. This crowd of people should not have elicited such an emotion from me.

I laughed and promptly looked around me. All the graduates seemed lost inside of their heads. It was a false comfort. They were scared too.

We were all very excited. This would be the first time we came in contact with the world outside of the orphanage since we had been accepted inside. It was scary and exhilirating. Many dreamt the night before about the praise and adulation and the cheering they would recieve. I dreamt about my mother's eyes.

The day was hot and clear and brilliant. We were lead out to the large park that served as an entrance to the Orphanage. We were riding in cars, the ones I told you about, and we were shielded by any chance contact with gawkers or reporters by the thick and stately trees lining the road toward our ceremony. These thick trees had grown with me. In 12 years they had doubled their size. Their trunks like giant elephant legs, their canopy spread out like the night sky, vast and streaked with light. I could feel their size like a weight on my soul. Their weight announced them as the elders of Mars. With their height they announced their eternity. It was as if time slowed down underneath their limbs. As if they drank from time like men drink water. They sucked out sound and replaced it with awe. My soul felt them, and desired their peace.

In moments we were behind the stadium that would hold our graduation.

There are things I learned after graduation from the Orphanage. The dog attacks garnered more and more news from the Free Martian Press, and subsequently all of the Martian media. The attacks did not stop, but they did not increase tremendously. The Martian government had put into place the siren alarms and first alert teams and dog deterrents and had promised the more deployed forces around the perimeter of the outlays. It was not clear, however, if that meant more troops inbound from Earth. That was the assumption. Debates continued for years whether troops from Earth would fully understand the significance of the problem on Mars. Nevertheless if they'd be ready for that sort of surveillance fresh of the airships. As it were, each new wave of terrafarmers that arrived never understood the severe psychological impact that a dog attack had on the minds of the laborers working to subdue the Martian land until they had witnessed one, or had a chance to meet families affected by an attack. They asked questions, why can't you just tame them like normal dogs? Are they really that bad? Just draw them away with a large steak. Can you pet them? Can you ride them?

Two years before our graduation, the government revealed a portion of what their plan was. They told the citizens of mars about young men dedicated to guarding and fighting against the dogs. Young men who would fight tirelessly for the protection of the good people ravaged by the fear of dog attacks. These were men who had witnessed first hand the devastation that the dogs could unleash. They were men who had lost families to dogs. They knew what Mars needed because they were Martians. They would protect with their very lives every last man and woman alive on Mars from any threat to their lives. With such dedication and selflessness, the government assured Mars, they only had to be trained to fight. And the first graduates of the Mars Freedom Militia were two years away from graduation.

This eased the tension slightly. The people were not told about our arms, or for how long we had been training, or even about the orphanage. They only knew that a significant number trained soldiers from Mars were going to protect the Outlays. We were briefed before graduation about all of this. Three groups at a time were told by the Board of Elders about the reaction we would receive at graduation. It was a public event, every media outlet that could spare a body would have a reporter on hand. Thousands of curious citizens would be waiting to see who their protectors would be. It would be imperative to use all of our training to remain calm and stoic. There will be much noise and excitement, and you must show the people of Mars how you can remain calm in the face of much confusion.
"Teacher, will they like us?"
"Of course, Franklin. You are going to protect them. But you must understand that they will be confused at first. We have saved you as a surprise for the people of Mars. They don't know fully your extraordinary abilities and weapons. They might be shocked to see how incredible you really are. After graduation we will have a press conference. They will ask a lot of questions. Any question that comes to mind. When people have something new in front of them that they've never seen before, they will ask whatever question comes to mind. We will handle all of the questions during the press conference, but we will provide you with the information you need to answer these questions when you are deployed in the field.

"All of you, listen. Mars is on the verge of receiving a great gift. The likes of which will eradicate all fears and worries. No longer will they have to be afraid to subdue the land! We will return Mars to what it should have been in the first years of terraforming. A prosperous land. A land that will yield great rewards from hard work. A bounty and safe haven for mankind. Not a world filled with uncertainty and terror because of beings out of our control. You will eradicate them. You will bring Mars back to what the founders came here for in the beginning. That, my children, will bring you praise and goodwill from every reasonable citizen of Mars. You will be heroes."

More orphans arrived every year. Five or 10, never too many, always enough to keep the orphanage full of voices. Soon there were Bradley's, Clark's, Holmberg's. We had been the largest class, a roundup of the most recent attacks. We grew up in the knowledge of our skill and weapons. We were assigned the new boys to train. At first it was the rudimentaries. Then in consecutive years we were assigned more and more responsibility to train. When we reached 16 we were teaching tactics of Mars guerrilla combat to the new boys. In our group, Cadmus taught weapon specs, I taught geography, and Balthasar taught formations and points of attack. Our supervisors, our teachers began to run mock drills pitting groups against one another. We were graded on how well our team of young boys performed in their mock battles. In our spare time we were taught ways in which to improvise our weapons.

This technology, our bodies, were an ever evolving experiment in physics and biology. You could tell who was experimenting by the size and duration of their bruises and wounds. Some of the kids in our age group began to experiment with their pulse beams. They were able to set it on low grade frequency and charge it fully to propel them skyward when they shot it at the ground. It created little damage to the dirt, and shot over 10 feet in the air. Soon they were able to time their pulse beams to create a sort of wave shaped air dance. It was as if they were yoyo's. The boys who discovered these innovations were rewarded with more authority and leverage in their groups and their age brackets. Soon it became a competition to see who could come up with the newest innovations. One of the kids, Dimitris Audland discovered the frequency setting of his arm could emit a pulse wave with no discernable evidence that it existed except for a small gust of wind. He used this successfully in mock drills, diverting the other group with a false movement meters away from him, then drawing them into his sight range. Dimitris was pale and pimpled and avoided conversation with kids his own age. He garnered a large group of devotees in the younger classes with his discovery. My own Balthasar discovered a way to set the frequency of his laser mode to correspond with any angle off of any metalic structure to create a web of laser beams. The physics were the same as billiards. The scope and breadth of the discoveries were wide and deep. When one was successfully accomplished, we spent months perfecting and practicing them. They became required coursework at the orphanage's school.

For me, I learned what they taught. I was never the best or the worst. I made due and I learned. I could complete all of the training necessary but I never excelled at any. I was able to lead a team, and with the aid of Cadmus and Balthasar we were one of the top ranked teams within our age group. I could never delve deep enough into the mechanics or the theories behind what our arms could do. I never had the patience. But I knew intrinsically that it was my arm. That I controlled it, and it did what I wanted. Beyond that was boring and confusing. I didn't care for the math of it, or the theoretically possibilities. I only cared that I could use it and it was a part of me. That was enough.

I don't care to tell you about what we talked about during that time. What does any child talk about growing up? What it is they say at any moment is not important at all. Whether they passed a class or switched allegience with friends. Whether I made fun of Cadmus, or Balthasar scolded me for not studying, this didn't matter. Talking about girls, movies, books, comics--none of this mattered. What mattered is the sum of all the words all the smells, and the sounds; these are the memories that catch inside of me as if stuck in web, that rattle and shake to break loose at the strangest moments. They say to me, listen, listen, do you hear how Balthasar's laugh explodes out of him like a spirit trying to escape? Do you still feel how your arm slides along the dirt like a shining snake, feel it--with no sounds--see it alone, moving, hugging the red dirt and welcoming its warm cradle? Can you taste the tang in your mouth, the hot prickles in your stomach, as if you swallowed a hot sponge the first time you were hit by the pulse beam? Can you smell that? That sweetness, that sweetness! That passes through the air and vanishes, that smell that told your soul to rejoice for 10 seconds while Mars released its grasp and opened its arms and it was vast, and the air was alive and and if you could keep the arms from grabbing you again you would, but rejoice for the moment it let go! See the top of the flame trees shaking, shaking, trembling, as if in supplication to the stark and terribly hard blue sky not falling out of grace from the sun! The steps down the hallway. The owl out your window. The sunbeam that lingered on your floor during April from 2 to 3pm. The ants in the tree and the sparrows.

These, these tiny mirrors, broken and tossed inside of us, these million mirrors make up the sum of a man.

The three of us were at the orphanage for 12 years. We were in the first class of graduates. There were 50 of us.

For Those of You Aping for More, A Poem.

A dog with a soul, you've got that? You apes
with heads of Socrates, false priests' altar boys,
retired professors of evil! I imagine cities so I can
get lost in them. I meet other dogs with souls when
I'm not lighting firecrackers in heads that are about
to doze off.
Blood-and-guts firecrackers. In the dark to see,
you ass-scratchers! In the dark to see.

~Charles Simic

The next upgrade was the focused laser pulse. This was our first weapon. It was incorporated into the guerrilla scenarios. We were to use it precisely, the culmination of the drill. It had a time delay for recharge. If we popped them off wildly, we'd be open for direct retaliation with a four second delay, denying any chance of weapon defense. We were trained in hand to hand combat, but that would prove little satisfaction against a giant dog. This then necesitated our exact control of the focused laser pulse. They taught us that dissabling the target on the first hit would also stop any civilian panic. Seeing a hail of laser pulses flying through the sky would cause undue stress on the outlay farmers and tenants. The focused laser pulse was enabled fully in marksman drills, but stripped of its lethal power in team drills. Any misfire during drills would result in severe penalties for up to a month. And being struck with a dissabled laser pulse still brought down us boys. It felt like getting struck with a tree, pure blunt force.

There were more weapon ugrades; rocket upgrades with physical ammo, rapid fire upgrades, stuff out of 21st century video games. Many of the boys forgot all about their past lives and why they were at the orphanage. I did not. Those boys loved the training, savored the chance to use their weapons against the dogs. They didn't hate the dogs, they just wanted something to kill.

Growing up at the orphanage, I didn't hate anything. I didn't hate the dogs, I didn't hate my life, the teachers, the orphanage. Neither did I love. Something inside of me had been missing ever since I closed my eyes on my mother. This had become my life. I lived it. I did what my teachers told me, I learned about the world, the two planets, the greatness of man, the glory of science. I learned how to fight, I was taught to kill. I had fun with my roommates, I cared for them, they loved me. I was quiet, I took what was given to me, I never said life wasn't fair.

I don't remember saying a word the rest of that evening. I must have, Samantha had us together to get to know each other. She told us about our training courses and where we'd be escorted tomorrow, what we'd learn and what to bring. I was exhausted. Cadmus and Balthasar were laughing and boisterous. We went to dinner and ate and were escorted back to our room. This was my first night sharing a space with anyone besides my family. I cleaned up and slipped into bed like an oil slick. My roommates asked me some questions, I don't remember answering them. I stared at the wall and let their words fall over me. I began to realize the impossibility of my vow not to talk to anyone.
"Goodnight." I closed my eyes as I said it, scared to see their faces.
"Goodnight Aaron." They said.

I fell asleep, and that was it. My training began the next morning. We went to class, like most children do. Our days were split between new limb training and traditional school. We learned history, literature, math, science. We learned how to use our new arms to grab things with neutral beams, to carve things toys out of raw material, how to get up after falling down. New children were admitted throughout the years, just like any school. We had our cliques, they were revolved around our roomates. Cadmus and Balthasar did become my best friends. We went everywhere. We would join with other groups, but they switched. We joked, we talked, we made fun of teachers.

It was terribly normal. There were quiet kids, goofy kids, pranksters and smart kids. I was quiet, Cadmus was goofy and Balthasar was smart. It didn't make us special. Our personalities may have played rolls in how we communicated, but the tragectory of our lives continued on course whether or not we talked, or made too many jokes, or knew all the answers. Life was incredibly unconcerned with how we related to it.

The scientists had built into our new limbs a series of upgrades to be initiated after successful and demonstrated control of all the previous functioning capabilities. At first, our arms were only capable of using the neutral beams to carry things, to lift things like we would with our normal hands, things of that nature. When we were comfortable with that, we were upgraded to use the carving tool. This is a low grade laser capable of carving soft materials like rocks, wood and most synthetic material. We could adjust the scope of the beam and width of it to dig trenches, or carve toys. We learned how to be dextrous with our limbs.

I must mention that most rooms had a dampening code built into them to dissable every function but the neutral beams. Being young boys, they didn't want any mistakes to happen as a result of heightened emotions. They didn't want anybody losing another limb, or dying. Certain rooms and areas and practice grounds were modified to allow use of more capabilities. Staging grounds and training fields were modifiable to allow a greater range of uses.

The upgrades continued with age and experience. Soon we began to hold mock dog encounter scenarios. Our drill teachers taught us guerrilla tactics from earth and how to deploy them in open spaces. We ran through these drills for hours, three of us at a time, moving as a team. Our teachers were tireless, any mistake resulted in a new start. Sometimes we'd train for the entire day, moving quietly, eyes hard. Those days were tiring. For Balthasar it was a welcome relief from the pressure of his advanced math work. For me it was just another day. Balthasar was smart, but he was too carefree for math. These drills gave him open space to use math. He hated being confined. Cadmus, he loved everything.

"Aaron, I'd like you to meet your new roommates." Across from me were two boys.
"Aaron Aadi, Balthasar Addo." A lanky boy with big blue eyes. He was skinny and had longish wavy dark hair. A lock of it kept falling into his right eye. He smiled at me like a wild animal, all teeth and mouth wide open. His glinting arm seemed like it should be dragging him down. He was much taller than me, almost as tall as Samantha. He reached out his hand, I took it. It was delicate, almost too small for his proportion.
"Hi, Aaron." I nodded. I didn't have to say anything to him. Samantha put her hand on his shoulder, he looked at her and laughed. It was sudden and jarring, loud like a seal braying. I flinched. The other boy giggled.
"Aaron Addi, Cadmus Akuji." He was my height, pale, with blue veins by his eyes. A wide face and soft, like he'd never been outside. He was behind Balthasar and walked toward me like he wasn't going to stop. Thick stumps for legs, pumping like pistons, comical in their single purpose. He had wispy, blonde hair, as if there wasn't enough of it on his head. He stopped in front of me and raised his new arm at me. He put his natural hand on top of it and yelled.
"Bang! Bang!" He made shooting motions. I didn't know what to do. Cadmus giggled. His head moved like a buoy in water. I laughed nervously, it sounded like a sigh.
"Now, Cadmus. Be kind."

Samantha took me into a bright room. There were clear lights all over the room. The light seemed to just be light. Not eminating from anywhere, as if the bulbs were auxillary, just an unlikely coincidence that the light happened to be inside of them. There was a heavy chair in the middle of the room. What looked like a giant upside-down tuning fork was suspended above it, heavy wires wrapped around it like jungle vines. Close beside the chair was a table with doctor's instruments on it. In one corner was a halfcircle console station with lots of colored lights and buttons. I wanted to touch them. Samantha greeted another doctor that approached us. One was sitting behind the console.

"Samantha, hello. This must be Aaron." He patted me on the shoulder. He didn't look much different from any of the doctor's I'd seen in the last few days. Tall, clean features, perfect hair. He smiled at me.
"Ready, Aaron?" I shrugged and stared at the console. I was nervous.
"Okay, Aaron. This is a great moment for you. Now, you're going to sit down here. Then I'm going to give you a shot with a needle. Don't worry, it will only be a small prick. Then the vector plates are going to start to spin around you. You'll see lights spinning. That's okay. When it is done spinning, I'm going to program your left arm. And then, Aaron, you'll be able to move your new arm. Simple, isn't it?" He was crouching on his knees, and when he said this his face exploded into a smile. I laughed, I couldn't control it. I didn't want to. But it came out.
"Okay, Aaron, sit down." I sat down in the chair. He took a needle from beside the table, swabbed my arm with something cold and orange, and looked at me.
"This will only tingle for a minute. I'm giving you something that will help your body understand your new arm. Ready?" I nodded.
"Look at those big eyes. You'll be fine."

He put the needle in my arm and I watched the small amount of clear liquid dissapear behind the needle's plunger. I felt it in my body, my shoulder felt cold where he put it in. The chill moved through my body.
"I feel cold."
"It's okay, Aaron. You'll be fine. Just relax. I'm turning on the vector plates now, its important to stay still, okay, Aaron?"
"Okay."
There was a slight noise and the giant arms began to spin slowly around me. In a moment, they were moving so fast that all the light in the room was caught up like cotton candy and spun around the vector plates, wrapping me in a cocoon of light. I could see my reflection in it. A heavy hum surrounded me. I couldn't hear anything except my breath. I couldn't see anything except a flickering reflection of my face. My eyes looked huge. I was panting. A red light streaked across in front of me. Then two, and it looked like it came out of the reflection of my eyes. Soon, blue and green streaks joined the red ones. It was scary. I started to squirm in the chair. I couldn't remember how long I was sitting there. It felt like forever. I began to think that they forgot about me. That I was stuck forever in this. The lights were swirling everywhere, they were moving so fast it seemed like they were making noises. I lifted my right hand in front of my face and it was a blur. I couldn't make out any fingers, any discernable shape. It looked like a blurry, too up-close picture. I put it back down frantically and sat on it. I shut my eyes. I could see the colors passing even through my eyelids, faint and viscous. I let out a hesitant yell. I couldn't hear it.

And then I heard the hum slow down. And in a moment the arms wound themselves down and stopped spinning. The cocoon dissipated into the rest of the room, and I was staring at Samantha and the doctor. I was sweating. I was breathing heavy. The doctor laughed.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, Aaron." I gulped a breath of air.
"You're all right, Aaron. You're fine. Beautiful, wasn't it? Like travelling through space. Although, you were probably asleep during that. Beautiful." I stared at him. He was looking above me. I pushed my hair out of my face.
"Okay, Aaron. Now I'm going to program your new arm. Brace yourself like I was going to push you, okay? It won't hurt, but your body will be excited to use its new arm. Stay calm. Can you do that, Aaron?"
"Okay."

He grabbed my left arm and moved his hand over the shiny surface, searching. He lifted a panel.
"Okay, Aaron. On three. One. Two." He looked me in the eyes, "three." And suddenly a thick, heavy pulse dropped into my left arm. Like a giant raindrop slipped down my arm and pulled me with it. It took me halfway over the side of the chair. Then I felt a pain in my head and I pulled myself back into the chair.
"Ouch." I rubbed my head with my right arm. The doctor laughed again.
"Look at that, already using your new arm. Careful, Aaron. It is metal."

I still felt the throbbing in my left arm. It was like a new heart was growing in me, calling for attention. I lifted my new arm slowly in front of me. It moved. I bent it at the joint. The light slid over it like water. The throbbing dissipated. A calm numbness came over me. I couldn't stop staring at it. It moved like it was part of me.
"What does it do?"
"Well, Aaron. I think thats what you're going to find out next."

I didn't feel that when I left the operating room. I couldn't feel the left side of my upper body. The doctors lead me to another room. A woman with a computer was sitting down at a table. There was an empty chair and a glass of water with a prescription bottle beside it on the table.
"Aaron Aadi, weclome. My name is Samantha. Please take a seat. We have a lot to talk about. You can't feel anything on your left side right now. You were given local anesthesia to numb you during the surgery. Please, take this pill and drink the water."
"I don't want to sleep."
"Oh, no Aaron, this is only a painkiller. You won't sleep. Soon, the anesthesia will wear off and without this pill you will be in a lot of pain from the surgery. This is to prevent that pain. You will need to take one every four hours today to prevent any lingering pain. Don't worry, this is a very good thing. You have a new arm! I'm sorry you don't remember this morning, it was a very exciting time for you."
"It doesn't look like an arm."
"Yes, we have a lot of explaining to do. You are a very courageous and strong boy, Aaron Aadi. You have gone through more than many people will go through in their entire lives. To have survived proves your courage and strength. That is why you are here. You are one of the first groups of children to make the Mars Children of Strength Orphanage their home. We are honored to have you. In fact, we chose you because of how strong you are. And with our help, you will become even stronger.
Now, about your new arm. You told our agents that you would protect the Colonies of Mars against any threat of harm or violence from the dogs and any other percieved eminent danger. We accept your humble and courageous sacrifice for the protection of the Colonies of Mars. For this, we are very honored to have you. And for this we want to help you as best as you can. That is why we have given you this new arm. If the times were not as they were, if there was no danger, this would not even be an option. But time is not changing, and through your consent, you recognize the need for your sacrifice. For this, you have much greater wisdom than any other six year old outside of this orphanage. It truly is an honor to be able to teach you and watch you grow.
Your new arm is capable of many great things. It will become a great asset to you. In time you will learn how to use everything it is capable of. But for now, you will need to learn how to do the most rudimentary tasks using your new arm. In fact, as soon as we are done here, we will go to the programming center and activate your arm."
Her words were waves over me. They put me in a sort of trance. My eyes were fixed upon my new arm. It was marvelously shiny. It was hideously out of place. My left side of my body began to tingle and wake up as the anesthesia wore off. I could feel sharp tingling waves washing over me, washing down the curve of my left arm. My arm felt alive. It felt alive apart from me.
"The surgeons and scientists on Mars are capable of great works. Through their skill, your new arm, upon activation, will connect with your neurotic parambular nervous system. Almost immediately you will begin to use your left arm for balance and motor functions just as naturally as you now use your right arm.
"After your activation, we will then meet your new roommates. You have three roommates very much like you. They will be in every one of your classes. They will become your new friends, friends that you will be able to trust and rely on for the rest of your life. You will have the opportunity to get to know them and recieve your first assignments today before supper and bed. Tomorrow, you will begin your classes. You will begin to learn how to use your new arm. You most likely went to school before. You will have curriculum similar to your old classes along with your training. We want you to learn not just about your new duty, we want you to know about the world, just as your parents wished for you; to give you every opportunity to grow in strength and success.
"Now, I know I've covered a lot of ground. Do you have any questions for me?"
"Why do I have a new name?"
"Yes. We believe that the trauma of the events that happened to you--to all of the children here at the orphanage--was so great that when you woke up after the events, you woke up new. In essence, Aaron Aadi, your life started over again. Your new name reflects that change. Your new name is a symbol of hope. Hope for you. Hope for Mars. Hope for the future. And your new name also serves a practical purpose. Your decision to serve is such a great commitment that we hold ourselves greatly responsible to keep you safe. All of the names for the children here help us keep track of where you all are. Your name is Aaron Aadi because you are one the first to come here."
"I don't understand."
"Yes. That's all right. You will someday, Aaron. Aaron, do you notice any tingling on your left side?" I nodded.
"Good. That's the anesthesia wearing off. You probably feel the tingling in your new arm? Yes? You won't understand, but that means your neurons are connected. It is a part of you, don't be afraid. But the neurons aren't mapped out yet. They don't know how to make your new arm work. So now, we are off to the programming center. And when we get there, we'll show your body how to use your new arm. Are you excited, Aaron Aadi?"
"Yes. I think so." The tingling feeling was going through my entire body. It was coursing through me. I wanted to shake and run and jump. We stood up and Samantha took my hand. I could hardly keep still to walk quietly beside her. I felt this way when I watched the storms from inside of our house in the outlays. Like I could see out every part of my body.

My father, on Earth, fished a lot. I would go with him. There was a river on our land on Earth. I made myself a pole out of a young maple branch and wax-coated string. I told my father I was going fishing by myself. I tied a hook and a red and white buoy to the string. I put a worm on the hook. My father tried to help me, but I made it all myself. I walked to the bank of the river and held my pole over the river. The worm fell into the river immediately. I had draped it around the hook. I didn't want to hurt it. It didn't matter. I sat there for an hour. I was calm. Content. I sang songs to myself like my father did. He sang so softly that I never heard the words. I made them up as I went. Geese flew overhead. The river was my rhythm.

I saw a fish on the river bed. I didn't expect it. I think it must have been a bottom feeder. All I remember is that it was brown. My hands shook as I held the pole so the string dropped above the fish's head. The byoy held the hook too high. I started shaking the pole to get the fish's attention. The buoy moved. The fish stayed in place. It moved its fins slowly.

My heart began to move inside of me. I remember that I had to go pee very badly. I moved down the bank and tried to get the hook in front of the fish's eyes. I thought that fish would bite hooks. I thought the worm was for decoration.

I started to hop nervously. I was sure that any minute the fish would swim away. I became frantic. I didn't know what to do, so I just held the pole over the water, the waxstring made a dimple in the soft current of the river. I was in agony. I was panting. I decided to try to put the pole in the water, but the buoy held the hook in the same place, a foot above the fish's head. And the fish stayed there, in the same place, undulating.

I stayed there, hopping, wishing I could pee, terrified that the fish would swim away. My heart was jumping all around inside of me. It was hot, and it itched. I swear it wanted to jump out of my body and tear in half.

Finally, frantically, I tried to poke the fish with my pole. It darted away in a cloud of silt. I thought that anything inside of me that was in place had fallen. I sat down and cried. I stood up, stared at the river with growing determination and anger and threw my fishing pole into the river. I turned around and ran home.

I remember my father holding me in his arms. He was always warm. When he held me, everything that was wrong, everything that fell apart, was in its right place.

I dreamt that I was at my house, it was night, and I was outside. I was bringing water to my father in the shed. There were terrible noises coming out of the shed, it sounded like someone was frantically searching for something. I came around back to the door, it was slightly ajar and the light spilling out the cracks looked like it was trying to get as far away from the shed as possible. I heard someone grunting. I wasn't scared. I didn't have any feelings. I moved like a robot. Robots have this fluid, singleminded movement--an efficient, wasteless purpose. They move like time, nothing bothers them, nothing will stop them, and whatever they are doing will be accomplished.

I opened the door and stepped inside. There were overturned tables with bolts and wrenches and scrap metal strewn across the floor. My father was hunched over in one corner, holding something close to his chest with one hand while fanning his other hand in circles along the dirty floor, scrabbling and picking at anything that was within reach. He was grunting words. He kept repeating, where is it. And it was a statement, not a question. Dad, I brought you water from the house. Where is it. I have it right here. Where is it. Are you looking for something? Where is it. I don't know.

He straightened and stood up. His free hand went still. He turned and looked at me and mouthed the words. Where is it. I looked at what he had clenched in his hand. It was a bleeding, pulsing heart. Where is it.

Where is it. Where is it. My father was no longer moving his mouth. Where is it. The words were coming out of mine. I reached out my hand to give him the water. He grabbed my hand. It shuddered like an old engine. I dropped the glass. I looked down, there were glittering shards everywhere. My father tugged violently at my arm. I nearly fell over. That's when I noticed.

There was a gaping hole in my chest. Where is it. My father grabbed my chin, and looked me in the eyes. Where is it. His other hand was raised. There was a beating, spitting heart in it. A siren was tearing through the shed. It was coming from inside of me. Rushing out of the hole like a newly dug well. Shattering the glass pieces into sand. Blowing the hair off my fathers head. Tearing down the walls. Where is it.

I opened my eyes and screamed into an iridescent light above me. I was uncomfortable and I couldn't move my head.
"Do you feel anything?" A man wearing a white mouth mask appeared in front of my face.
"No. I heard a noise."
"Good. Congratulations." I stared at his face. Two more masked faces appeared beside and across from his.
"Aaron Aadi, you have a new arm." I didn't believe them. I couldn't move my head anyway. And I really couldn't feel anything.
"Where is it?" I shuddered.
"Have a look." The doctor took off the head strap holding me down and lifted me up.

There was what looked like a shiny, jointed rocket launcher attached to my shoulder. It was the same size as my arm, it had no hand, it ended in a nozzle. There were overlapping pieces in odd symmetry, like ancient armor covering the length of it. It all looked on the verge of flying into pieces. It looked like it was moving--it looked like it wanted to move.
"What is it?"
"Your new arm. Pretty, isn't it?"
"Not really."
"You'll get used to it. Plus you can do much, much more with it. Just wait until you see what you can do. If only I were your age." The man in the mask shook his head. His eyes were wrinkled in a smile.
"Come on, get up. We'll help to the next room. Someone will be there to take care of you and get you ready. Don't worry, its deactived right now. Just try to get used to the way it feels."
The helped me up. I didn't think I'd be able to stand with that much metal on me. It looked impossibly heavy. They let go and I didn't fall over.
"Light, isn't it? It gives a little tug, sure. But you'll get used to it. Nothing your body won't be able to compensate for. Especially with the shape you'll be in and the extensive work we've done with your kinetic neurons. Oh, of course, nevermind, I'm sure I'm only scaring you. Your helper will be able to explain it all so you can understand. Let's go, Aaron Aadi."
"I don't know who that is."
"Of course not, Aaron. Come along" The man winked at me.

The door shut behind us in the hallway.
"I'm taking you to your room. You're going to change there and give me your old clothes. Don't need anything holding you back now. Do you understand? I'm sure you'll appreciate the change, they keep you boys very well fed and clothed here, much better than a lot of gentlemen I know in newer Roanoke. Of course, that's just an old man's opinion, and I'm sure you don't really care about an old man, do you? Of course not, you don't even know what I'm talking about. At any rate, I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay here, in fact, I hope you do, because you'll be here a long time. There's a lot for you boys to learn. How to play with your new toys. Quite a toy, quite a toy. Not so sure it makes me comfortable seeing children running around with those things attached. Nothing anyone can about that now, is there?" We approached an elevator. I had been staring at the shiny black walls of the hallway, they were so smooth. I'd never seen anything like that. I reached out my hand.

"Cleaning ladies won't take kindly to you groping the walls. Keep your hands to yourself. Step quick! The elevator won't wait for you." I stumbled over the old man's feet into the elevator.
"Oh young man, so clumsy. Hope you won't be another mistake here. We don't need anymore mistakes. One is enough. Two is trouble. One is an anomoly. Two begins evidence to the contrary. I would like to keep my job here. No need for mistakes. Keep a move on, child. Let's go." He started quickly down the new hallway. These walls were a muted green. The old man for the next few moments kept his thoughts to himself. He was chewing on his lip. I was looking all around. There were doors every few feet, all painted red with a gold letter and a gold number printed on each. The old man abruptly stopped and turned in front of one of the doors.

"But despite that, child, we're here. Room 2C, that's yours. Here's the key, get in, change and come out with your old clothes. Don't bother looking around, you'll have plenty of time for that. I'll show you what to do after you get out of those old clothes of yours." The old man dropped the key into my hand, I fumbled with them and almost dropped it. I was terrified of making a mistake. I missed the lock on the first try and heard the old man sigh. I was so anxious to be quick that I slammed the door behind me. There were two sets of bunkbeds, a window and a dressing room. I started to take my clothes off. Something wasn't right. I fumbled around with the shirt over my head for a minute until I realized that I only had one arm. I was overwhelmed with grief. I let out one long sob and sat down. My arm was stuck above my head and my head was underneath my shirt. I couldn't move. I heard the door slam again.
"Oh, child. What have you done. Here." The old man pulled the shirt off of me and lifted me to my feet with my one arm.
"Not long since you've been without an arm? I'll turn around. Take it slow with your trousers."
I thought about how I was going to get them off, and put the new pants on. With only a bit of struggle and a rising sense of desperation was I able to get the new pants on. The shirt was a bit easier.
"Okay."
"All right, child. Let's go."
"There are bunkbeds."
"You'll have roommates shortly."
"Oh."
"Well, you'll have to get used to them. No use fighting it. Now it's time for lunch. You must be hungry."

After lunch, the rest of the day was blurry. The food was better than I'd had at our house. And there was much more of it. I remember eating everything I could. I ate until I felt like I couldn't stand up. I didn't know that I could eat that much. I followed the old man around the rest of the day, he showed me where everything was. Where the washrooms were, I needed to pee. He showed me where the recreation room was, where the nurses office was. He showed me how to use the elevator and how to interpret the color codes of the floors. He told me what floors I was allowed on and which floors I was never to go to unless summoned. My feet were hot and I was tired. I hadn't heard so much talking in my entire life. I had never been in a building for so long before. The walls were making me tired. His voice was making me tired.
"I want to go to sleep."
"I haven't showed you everything you need to see."
"I don't care."
"Neither do I. Follow me. Not much left to see. Johnson said you were strong. Show me."
"All right." I didn't want to. I wanted to go to sleep.

We walked around for a while more, what seemed like hours. I saw more floors and more doors and more signs and hallways. Eventually we stopped in front of a door.
"What door is this?" I decided to seem interested. The old man stared at me like I was stupid. I felt stupid.
"What does it say, child?"
"Two Cee."
"Well then, I suppose you know what door this is."
"Oh." I didn't. He looked at me for a few seconds.
"Here's your key back. Here's a pill. You must take this with a glass of water. Let me in and I'll show you where to find a glass."
"Oh." It was my room.
We went inside and he filled up a glass of water, and I got into the first bed I could.
"Take this and put it in your mouth." He gave me a pill and I put it in my mouth.
"Now, drink this water and swallow it. It will help you sleep. You have a long day ahead of you. Someone will be here to wake you up in the morning. Make sure to answer the door and don't keep them waiting. Everyone here is busy and no one likes to wait. Goodnight."
At that, the man left the room. I was scared. I didn't think I could sleep. I put myself under the covers and stared across the room. Soon a thick blackness fell over me. I wasn't sure if the lights went out or not. But it was warm. And I was asleep.

"Son, you've made a good decision. Your parents would be proud." I just wanted to leave.
"We're going to take you to a camp now, with a lot of kids like you. You'll have a lot of fun and learn a lot of new things." He looked at his colleague shutting his briefcase.
"Ready?"
"Yeah. I'm just glad we didn't have to show the video." I used to like it when my dad showed me videos.
"Okay then, lets go."
"When will I get a new arm?"
"At the camp. There are a lot of nice people there who are going to help you and show you how to do everything you said you wanted to do." All I remembered was wanting a new arm.
"Okay."

We left the hospital. The doctor nodded at me as I left. I saw the nurse with her arms folded looking just above my head. I waved. She nodded and turned down the hallway. The doctor waved.

They took me into their car, well, thats what we call them for convenience sake. Much different, but the same idea. It holds 6 people and gets you from one end to the next. Really a magnetic conversion that lifts the car along the ground and propels it forward. Its all based off the magnetic pull of Mars' core, but I barely understand the concept so I won't try to explain it. It goes fast.

They took me in their car and drove me to the camp. It was in the middle of one of the larger parks in Roanoke. One in the inner sector in the goverment subdivision. We pulled up to a check point where a man looked at the two men's ID cards. we were let in and drove down a well shaded drive. The sun shone dappled on the ground. All shades of green were on display.
"Its pretty here."
"You'll love it, son." The two men looked at each other.
"Son, we're going to drop you off when we get inside. Don't worry, they'll know who you are. You'll be welcomed. But you'll have to wait in a line to get your ID card and new clothes. Then you'll get a chance to meet all of your new friends. Okay?"
"Okay." I was scared. I had never been around more than 5 people at a time since I'd been on Mars. And I was in cryo-sleep the whole shuttle ride over from Earth. I didn't want to meet anyone like me. I made up my mind that I wouldn't talk to anyone unless they were an adult. And then only if they asked me a question.
"All right, son. Here we are. Are you ready?"
"No. I don't want to go." The two men looked at each other again.
"Okay, we'll wait here for a couple of minutes until you're ready. You have to be strong. Your doctor told us you're very strong. I'm sure he wasn't lying to us."
"I don't want to meet any new kids."
"You'll love them. They're all waiting to meet you." Children waiting to meet me was even more frightening than them not caring I was there.
"How many are there?"
"Oh, a dozen or so. But don't worry, stay strong and you'll be all right. You'll become fast friends with them."
"Will you come in with me?" The two men looked at each other again. The passenger turned and put his hand on my right shoulder.
"Okay, son. As long as you promise us that you'll stay strong. No matter what."
"Okay." The two men looked at each other again. They grinned and looked at me over their shoulders.
"Ready, son?"
"I guess so."
"Okay, lets go."

They took me out of the car and walked me toward the front of the building. It was giant and shaped like a broad, upside down pyramid. Sort of like the pyramids in South America, but turned on its head. It made me look up. The two men walked with their hands on my shoulders.
We came to the door, a new man greeted my two drivers.
"Johnson. Johnson."
"Bill."
"You two didn't need to come here. You know you can just drop the boy off."
"We wanted to see him off. He's a brave young boy."
"They all are. He's no different."
"Well. we're here. And he's ready. Ready, son?"
"I guess so." The man at the door looked at me critically. He was old and had white hair and a broken nose.
"Come on in, child." The old man said.
"Bye, son."
"Bye." I missed Johnson and Johnson.

The old man led me toward a desk. A middle aged woman wearing a gray dress sat behind it. There was a computer in front of her flat along the desk.
"Hello, child."
"Hi."
"Would you like to know your name?"
"I know my name."
"Well, I'm going to give you a new name. Wouldn't you like that?"
"No. I like my name. My dad says its a strong name."
"I'm sure it is. But we need to give you a new name so that we can better keep track of you while you're here. Don't worry, you'll like it, I promise." I didn't think so. But I didn't say anything.
"Okay. Well, Aaron Aadi, nice to meet you." She tossled my hair. I tried to straighten it.
"Here's your card. You'll have to keep good track of this. And here is your first pair of clothes. Change into these when you reach your room. They'll be much more comfortable than your hospital garments." I forgot I was wearing hospital garments. My new clothes were gray and smooth. They looked nice. The old man started to lead me away. I turned back.
"Lady, I forgot my name."
"Aaron Aadi. Your name is Aaron Aadi."

"Son, some men would like to talk to you." I woke up to the doctor's voice. I looked and saw two men in government suits. Men like these came by every quarter to assess the growth of our settlement. I looked at them, they grinned.
"We'll go down to another room, doctor." Said the man on my left. He had a satchel.
"Why don't you come with us, son." I looked at the doctor, he nodded. I got up. It was about a week after the doctor had told me about my family. Since then he had been stopping by during my walks. I got up and walked whenever the nurses told me too. And when I was done I would lay back down on my bed and stare. I liked the doctor. He didn't say much. I liked how he called me son.
"Okay."

I walked with them into a room down the hallway. It had a desk and a video monitor.
"We've heard about your situation, son." Everyone called me son at the hospital.
"We want to ask you a few questions." I thought that I could answer their questions. I looked at the one talking. Government attire is a cross between a suit and working clothes. Easy moving gray colors layered with light overcoats and black shoes. Almost like country clothes you'd see in the American Midwest, but without the flannel patterns. The material is light and sturdy, they have shiny buttons, and everything seems polished. I always liked their clothes. They seemed mysterious and comfortable.
"How would you like to have your arm back?" Their questions were easy.
"Okay."
"Would you like to have your parents back?"
"Yes."
"Do you think you can?"
"No."
"Then what instead would you like to do about it." I hadn't thought about that yet.
"I don't know."
"Would you like to kill dogs?" I was scared of the dogs. I didn't even know what they looked like. I couldn't remember them.
"No."
"Why not?"
"They're scary."
"What if you scared them?"
"I hate dogs."
"They hate you. Wouldn't you like to hurt them, too?"
"I'm not supposed to hurt anyone."
"What if it was okay?" I hadn't considered that as an option.
"After all, they killed your parents." I started to cry again.
"I want my mom."
"Your mom is dead. The dogs took her away from you. They killed her and your father. They would have killed you, too if your neighbors hadn't scared them away." I wanted my mom back.
"I want my mom back!"
"You can't have her back. She's dead. Now what are you going to do about it?" I put my head down and kept crying.
"Son, you can have a new arm. You can kill the dogs that killed your parents. You can take away all the dogs so no one will have to hurt like you do anymore on Mars. You can be a hero. And we can help you." I liked heroes. I liked my arm. I wanted mine back. Everything else was confusing. I didn't want to think about it anymore. I just wanted to leave.
"Do you want this, son?" I thought so.
"Yes."

I woke up on a hospital gurney in Roanoke. It had been the center of the terraforming mission long enough that it was now a bustling city. Or the closest thing on Mars to a city. There were plenty of people, just a different layout than you'd ever see on Earth. The city, from an aerial view, looked like so many clusters of water bubbles. There were thousands of parks in Roanoke. The city blocks circled them. The emphasis originally in Roanoke was expansion and organic growth, just like the outlays, so each cluster represented a new arm of growth. And as each cluster was established over the years, and new terraformers came in more frequently, each new cluster was populated by a newer group of terraformers.

This then makes for an interesting dynamic. The more cerebral, academic and technically saavy people on Mars are all located within the center of the city. And as you journey farther to the edges of the city, you find more of the menial workers and laborers. And as more terraformers came with more advances in terraforming technology, the new people of Mars were able to move farther and farther away from Roanoke. Which is, as you can guess, the outlay area. And where I had been living since I was four.

I didn't remember Roanoke at all. And for that matter I didn't even know I was in Roanoke. I only knew I was on a gurney, and there were doctors bustling around me. One was sitting beside me when I turned my head to look for a window. My arm itched.
"I have some news for you, son." The doctor said. I was thirsty.
"Can I have a glass of water?" I said. The doctor nodded beside my bed. There was a glass of water on the table beside me. I reached for it, but nothing happened. I couldn't move my left arm. I reached over to get the water with my right hand. I looked down. I had no left arm. I was scared. I started to cry.
"My dad says I'm left handed!" I yelled. I noticed a nurse making comforting noises on the other side of the bed. She smelled like clean sheets.
"Now son, I have some difficult news for you." The doctor said. I was still crying.
"You'll have to be strong."
"I thought I found out the news." I cried. The nurse was stroking my hair and making noises. I was getting angry, my mom did it differently, nicer. Then I remembered my mom's face. I was scared, I was angry, and I was sad.
"Son, your mother. Your father." He looked me in the eyes. I wanted to know where my mom and dad were waiting for me.
"Your mother and father are dead." I didn't feel anything but pain. I felt like something had fallen on me and I couldn't breath. I felt like my lungs had filled with cotton, and it was starting to burn. I desperately let out a yell.
"Dogs killed them!" The doctor yelled over me. I remember that. And the warm arms of the nurse. And my arm itching. And my nose running. And then I don't remember anything for a little while.

This is when things get a bit fuzzy. Either that worker shot the dog, or the dog ate that worker and the rest of the workers killed the dog, or the dogs started messing with the hydrogen towers enough that they became pests and the workers started leaving traps and killing them. I mentioned that the dog may have eaten the worker. That may seem gruesome, but the plain truth is that they will eat humans. But whatever the case, and for whatever reason, the humans started killing the dogs, and the dogs became aggressive and lethal towards the terraformers.

Initially the theories were tame and based on scientific reasoning. But as the years passed, and the fourth and fifth waves came with less studied and academic thinkers, and more laborers and menial workers, combined with the ever present yet rare threat of attack from the dogs, the theories started to become myth and folklore. Some believed they were indeed martian, others believed they were genetically linked to the original terraformers who were lost, others believed they were planted by the NASA for some sinister alterior motive, and even some believed they were intelligent space travellers. Of course, most of these myths and conjectures were ridiculed. And most held claim to the belief of the original second wave of terraformers. That some tragic disaster befell the original terraformers and somehow their pets were able to survive and mutated under the Martian sun.

So, every terraformers farm had a warning siren to alert nearby farms and family of immediate danger. This could be anything from a sudden Martian windstorm to a dog attack.

What I remember is the high wail of the siren grinding out of our house like the wind was trying to tear itself in half. I was in the outlays seeding. I was immediately filled with excitement, anxiousness, and fear. This usually resulted in a trip into the house to watch the cascading corrugated windstorms of Mars. I hurried back home, and about halfway there the wailing slowly bled away into nothing. There was no noise. I was confused and continued home. I drew near to the house, things came into clear focus. I saw a movement on the front porch, and heard a banging behind the shed, as if someone in a rage was searching for a lost tool. I continued closer. They say that the natives of South America may not have even seen the conquistadors when they first arrived because their brains were unable to comprehend something so foreign as the Europeans. This can explain why I only felt the sharp pain in my shoulder and felt the cold dirt rise into my side. Why I never saw the dogs tearing past me in a frenzy, tossing me aside like a dead animal. What I could see, sideways, like a video-recorder recording after the cameraman dropped it, was my mother strewn across the front porch, bloodied and ragged, eyes staring up toward the sky. I tried to move to see the shed, but my body held to the earth like a root, sending sharp waves of pain prickling through my being when i made any slight movement. I saw my mother's head loll downwards, I saw her look me in the eyes. I felt so hot and wet and in pain that I thought I must have been drowning. She mouthed my name. I tried to reach out my arm, I felt it move toward her, but I never saw it reach out. I only felt pain. I closed my eyes and felt the sky fall on me.