"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.