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.