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.