“I’ve seen your children grow up into men and women. I’ve seen them give birth to grandsons and granddaughters.” He glanced to the side, “In case you didn’t catch that, I’m an old man.”

Again, more chuckles from the crowd. They were rapt. His voice was like hardening honey. Smooth and sweet, with jagged rocks of sugar cropping up every so often. It commanded complete attention. And the terrafarmers were pleased to give it to him.

“We are a strong people. We’ve taken this land for ours. We have survived where others have only dreamed. When I was a child, my classmates on Earth thought Mars was a dead planet, suitable only for science fiction novels. If they ever thought of being here, they fancied themselves as cowboys facing off against Martians and androids. It was a fantasyland.

But we have made it real. We are making a new home for humanity, and we are rooted in it like the giant oaks of Roanoke. We are the giants of the new world, and our roots go deep to the core.”

The crowd murmured and nodded its approval.

“And nothing can uproot us. I’ve seen your looks tonight. Your eyes go sideways with misgiving and hints of fear. As if a metal arm could dig us out of the thick soil of our land. As if the men of Roanoke were giving us notice of eviction.” He slammed his hand on the podium.

The terrafarmers shifted uncomfortably and looked at each other, on the verge of noise.

“I have seen us survive the terror of dogs, and I have seen the terror of dogs rip through our community for 30 years. I have seen our tears fall into the earth we till. I have buried friends and their children. I have seen the holes in their bodies like the holes from a seeder, deep and empty. I have presided over funerals only I can count the number of.” He paused and looked over the crowd. His gaze hovered like a heavy spirit over these families. I felt it in my soul, and I was ashamed.

“Sarah.” He looked at a woman in the crowd. “I buried your father. John, Martha; I buried your son. Luke, I buried your wife. The Dillon’s, Robinson’s, I buried your neighbors the Oh’s and gave their land for you to steward. The Sebastian’s were taken away from us entirely. We had to burn the Nelson’s land to take the memory of their deaths away.” He paused and the sniffles in the crowd were like some kind of musical rhythm. “Would you like me to go on? Would you like to cry tonight like we are at another funeral?”

“These boys. These boys with their shining arms who are here with us tonight were born from the same wellspring that we survive on. They are children of Mars who were taken away. They have come back to us. They were born out of the same hope that all of us have. And the tragedy of death hangs on their shoulders as heavy as it does ours. They have been shaped by the same soil, life has been blown into their nostrils by the same vast wind.

“They have come back to us. Yes. And they say they have come back to protect us. Yes. Who are we to judge our lost children’s intentions? They are here with us now, they are our children. There will be plenty of time to learn of their intentions. In the meantime, rejoice! Be glad that we have protectors. Rejoice in these new, strong, hands. Throw up your hands and shout.”

The old man walked, as I had come to expect from the terrafarmers, deliberately. His goal was a podium in the south corner of the square. He smiled and nodded at all the farmers he made eye contact with, but he never stopped or waited for conversation. His back was straight and he had gray hair. His skin was dark and wrinkled. His eyes were half lidded from years of squinting into the sun, but they were clear and lively underneath the lids. His hands were thick and his fingers were crooked like tree roots. He was clad in the loose fitting brown trousers and shirts of the martian farmer. The night breeze made ripples in his clothes . He appeared walking underwater, deliberate and fluid. Conversations naturally quieted as he walked by and people turned to follow him. A crowd gathered in front of the podium. David was behind the podium wiping down a violin with a cloth, standing beside a group of men doing the same to basses, violas and hand drums.

I stayed behind, Balthasar and and Cadmus looked back at me. The were unsure if they should leave me and move forward. I waived them on. They moved into the crowd. Dimitris was near the back, he was occupied with his enhanced arm. He was standing near a young woman, she was focused on the old terrafarmer. Edwin and Fairfax were slightly behind Dimitris, flanking him. They were hiding smiles in their cheeks. He was up to something. I made my way toward Dimitris. I overheard him say to the girl, "You have nice ankles." He was smirking and brushed his hair back. She looked at him, and turned back toward the podium. Dimitris shrugged his shoulders. Fairfax and Edwin looked down and smiled into their chests. They made me sick with their antics. I used to train with Fairfax in the first years. He had become hard and impressionable since then. I had only trained against Edwin. He was shifty and keen.

A breeze rustled through the crowd and slightly lifted the young woman's long skirt over her ankles. She absentmindedly smoothed it down and shifted her shoulders. Dimitris smiled and rolled his shoulders. I made my way beside Dimitris. My hand was tingling. I could hear my heartbeat. I hated being this close to him. It was unpleasant.
"Why don't you leave them alone, Dimitris."
"Oh, hello. Aaron. I didn't think you'd notice." Dimitris looked me up and down and leered. I heard Edwin and Fairfax chuckle.
"Just leave them alone."
"Why? They don't know what I'm doing. It's just the wind, right? It's not like I could mess with that. We're just having a little fun. This place is so," he looked around disdainfully, and then back at me, "dull." This time Fairfax and Edwin couldn't hold their mirth and laughed outright.
"We're here to protect them, not use them. This isn't a game."
"Please, spare me your ideals, Aaron. Your morality is just an excuse to cover up your shortcomings." I looked around. Balthasar and Cadmus were looking at me. They looked troubled. They were too far away to hear what we were saying, but they could see I was upset. It would be too disruptive for them to come over, they would look like they were preparing for a fight. I saw Cadmus shake his head. Balthasar hit him in the shoulder.
"Keep your tricks out of here, Dimitris."
"Or what, Aaron?"

I had no idea what. My face was red and I could feel the heat coming out of my cheeks. Dimitris was staring at me with a slight smirk on the right side of his lips. Fairfax and Edwin were staring in to the sky with their arms folded, whistling. I started to open my mouth when the old terrafarmer began his speech at the podium. Everyone turned to face him. I shut my mouth. Dimitris raised his eyebrows, smiled, shrugged his shoulders and turned to face the podium. I was stuck standing beside him. I couldn't move through the crowd to Balthasar and Cadmus without causing a stir. I clenched my fist.

"Good evening, brothers and sisters. Sons and daughters of mars. Let an old man say a few words before we begin our party."
The old man was standing beside the podium, his arm resting on it. Our general and Abbot, Daffyd, and Orestes were behind him in a semi-circle. Their uniforms were crisp and well-pressed. The crowd chuckled. Everyone was smiling. I was furious.

We finished dinner and the Eltsina's took us to the square. You may be thinking that this is like a town square back on Earth, that there are a lot of shops surrounding it and lots of people coming and going. A square in the outlays is just the square. A large tiled square meeting area. The terrafarmers are equipped with everything they need for self-sufficiency. They produce everything they need for survival, are equipped with all the tools and repair equipment they need, and their cars can travel great distances in short amounts of time. The only thing they can't provide for by themselves is community. Therefore, one of the first traditions of terraforming mars was the creation of "squares." They are precisely like a town square in size and purpose, that is: a meeting place for community in a central location. But there are no shops, no one lives there, and it is surrounded on all sides by trees and flora and fauna. It is a vacant terraformed bubble. Hosting duties are divied up between the closest terrafarmers per martian terraforming quarter, roughly three months out of the year. The local community of terrafarmers meet there for festivals, commemorations, weddings, birth celebrations, and funerals. These were the first areas to be adorned with beauty in mind. They are all unique and crafted with artistic flourishes. Just as the outlay terrafarms are formed with a single-minded purpose of survival and expansion, so are the squares created with single-minded beauty and celebration.

We arrived at night, approaching from the vast flat plains one solitary and vertical black wall against the sky. This was what terraformed bubbles looked like at night from the outlays. Shapes grew into trees as we approached, and as we entered the little forest lights began to glitter in the immediate distance. It was like a fairy tail we were taught in the early grades at the orphanage. I imaged our car was ushered in by forest gnomes and serows. Our square was a large green tiled expanse, with red concentric cirlces emanating out from the middle. It was flanked by great red rocked pillars carved out of the martian landscape into Roman colonnades. Atop these pillars were lucent globes of green and gold and red, each color sublty waxing and waning in brightest. It was magnificent. The trees seemed to pulse like thick irridescent veins, throbbing with beautiful blood pumped from the square.

All around people were milling, coming toward the square; in from their cars, or wandering about talking with friends, setting up instruments and fiddling with consoles on the pillars. There was a soft and deep hum of voices hovering over the square, punctated every so often with a slight high laughter or deep bass chortle. David pulled out an instrument case from our car.
"Ready for the party, boys?" He said and walked toward the group of men with the instruments.
I saw Demetris with Edwin and Fairfax in one corner, huddled together, leaning against and glancing at all the people coming in with furtive eyes. They must have been as awed as I was. Natural, joyous celebration sprung from a spontaneous appreciation of life and beauty was foreign to us, and though I felt warm in the cool evening, I was still scared by the thick mirth flowing from the square. They were wearing their dress uniforms, their arms were shined and buffed and reflecting the light in swirls along the curves of the sinuous joints. They were fops. But they were smart and vindictive. It was best to be on their good side to avoid needless problems.

An old man stepped out of his car followed by our general in turn followed closely by Abbot, Daffyd, and Orestes. They were three of the highest performing students in our class at the orphanage and were often the figureheads of our class. It was no suprise that they would arrive with an old man and our general. This man must have been one of the first terraformers.

"After dinner there's going to be a celebration party in the square for you boys. All the terrafarmers in the region should be there. You'll have a chance to see everyone you're protecting." David said.
"Great! That's wonderful. What does a celebration look like? What does it look like in the outlays, I mean." Said Cadmus.
"We play music, dance, and talk. Nothing different than Roanoke I'm sure."
"Of course not. I wasn't sure if it was different maybe. What should we wear? This food is delicious, Sarah, thank you." Sarah looked down.
"Wear whatever you want. I saw the papers, I'm sure you all like to make an entrance."
"Well, we don't have much clothes. I think I'll wear my dress uniform. What do you think the others are going to wear? We should probably wear our dress uniforms so we don't look like slobs."
"Cadmus, I'm not sure the other terrafarmers will be focused on your clothes."
"What do you mean, Mr. Eltsina? I haven't read about that aspect of the outlays. Do you not care about clothing?"
"Cadmus, I mean you have an other attribute that is more curious than your clothing."
"Oh. Right. I forgot."
"Though I'm sure they'll be impressed with your fine clothes, too." Elizabeth said looking at David.
"We're used to being around each other, Mr. Eltsina. To us, we're normal." Said Balthasar.
"Well, what are we?" Asked David. We looked at each other. Memories. The past. Bad dreams.
"Our charge."
"Well, I thought we might be friends." Said Elizabeth.
"You now live in my house. That makes you a part of my family." Said David.
"This food is really delicious, Sarah." Said Cadmus
"Yes, it is very good. We're used to mess hall food." Said Balthasar.
"Thanks." Said Sarah. She looked at Elizabeth, "It's mom's recipe."
"So, Aaron, what'd you think of the farm? Why don't you debrief us all of my home?" Asked David. I had been chewing a good piece of potato when he asked. It was becoming uncomfortably hot in the kitchen.
"Well. This isn't how we normally debrief, sir."
"That's fine, Aaron. Just tell us what you thought of the place. I'm curious, too."
"Well. There are three cows in the pasture to the west, four horses in the stables. The loft has eight bales of hay. There are extra horse shoes along with farm tools in the south corner of the barn, neatly organized. There is a chicken coup west of the house with about 8 chickens in it. I couldn't see them all. To the north are the fields, Adjacent to the fields is the large oak tree, about two bodies wide at the bole and a half mile to the east of that is the copse, mostly heather trees and heath. There are some other low growing shrubs. This area is roughly 100 square feet. There are many areas to hide in the heath between the soil and the branches. The outlay waste perimeter half-circles the farm from north to west. It is mostly flat with modest rolling hills and scattered rock outcroppings. The silo is three stories high and half stocked. I'll draw us a detailed map later tonight before first watch duty." Cadmus and Balthasar nodded their heads. I was proud of my work.
"But, what did you think of our home?" Asked David.
"It is large and lacking in natural strategic defense. I'm sure we may have to post two guards depending on the threat level to the area. We will discuss between the three of us and our commander the best staging areas for the three of us to be located near at all times to ensure adequate response time to any incoming hostiles. I'm sure we can use the copse and the oak tree to our advantage, even the silo, though I'm reluctant to use damageable assets as potential battle areas and protection. Hopefully we'll never have anything close to that. The area affords us no mistakes."
"Well, I don't know what I think about that."
"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Eltsina, we won't make any mistakes."
"No, I'm not sure you understand my question. How does my home make you feel?" I looked at Cadmus and Balthasar. They shrugged.
"I don't know, Mr. Eltsina. I'm not sure I understand how that applies to us being here."
"Well, I like my home. I would hope that my guests and protectors would like it to." Sarah was still looking down, Jack was playing with his fork and Elizabeth was staring at me with David.
"Oh. Cadmus and Balthasar don't need to know if I liked it or not." They shook their heads.
"I'm not asking for their sake. I'm sorry. Let me rephrase my original question." David said. Elizabeth was wiping her mouth with her napkin.
"Forget about debriefing us. Did you like the tour of my home?" I wasn't sure if it was because the oven was still on in the kitchen, but it was terrifically hot in their house.
"We weren't taught to think like that, sir. But I suppose, when I got out of the transport, the hot wind and the dirt reminded me of something good."
"Well, I suppose that will do for now."
"I bet Dimitris' group will wear their dress uniforms. I think we should really wear them." Said Cadmus.

I arrived. The hot breeze swept around me. I could almost feel the dirty seeds in my dirty hands. Jack ran out of the transport and into the fields. He flit through the field, stopped suddenly, bent down and picked something up, ran off again, and made straight for a large oak tree which he promptly scaled. I lost sight of him in the shade of the leaves. Here in front of me was the house, squat and long and painted green, the fields, a copse, the oak tree, and beyond the dirty waste, the horizon. I put my hand in the ground and felt the dirt. It was warm. I saw Jack jump out of the tree and dissapear into the copse.
"Jack! Come help you sister with dinner!" Elizabeth yelled.
Cadmus and Balthasar were unloading their gear into the house. The sun was hanging in the air like a bouy in still water. I broke up the clumps of dirt in my hand and rolled the little pebbles around with my fingers.
"Boy, why don't I take you for a tour of the farm. The other boys are busy with your gear." I looked up at David. He was talking to me.
"Yes, sir. I'll brief them on the terrain after supper."
"Good. Let's go."
We started behind the house and headed toward the barn. David walked briskly, I followed behind him. We walked into the barn, up into the loft, and then out the door. We walked to the silo and the storage room, then to the tool shed and the drying house. He took me through the fields, showed me the big oak tree, walked me to the copse, pointed to Jack's hiding spot, walked me toward the cusp of the terraformed fields, and stared into the wastelands. He never said a word. That's what I liked about David. He crouched on his haunches, I followed. We stared. We stared until the sun dropped and touched the land. He stood up.
"Your hand. Its dirty. Wash up before dinner."
"Yes, sir."
"You been on a farm before?"
"Yes, sir."
He started back toward the house.
"Time for dinner. Sarah will be amiss."

Sarah was a young girl, no more than 13. She was wearing an apron and serving the table with Jack. She didn't make eye contact. When the table was set we sat down.
"Boys, this is Sarah, our daughter. Sarah, this is Cadmus, Aaron, and Balthasar."
She nodded her head and stared at the table. "Welcome home."
They all bowed their heads and held hands. Jack reached his hand out and put it on my rocket arm. I reached out my hand and held onto Cadmus' rocket arm, he did the same. Balthasar held hands with Sarah. This was a prayer. We had read about them. Balthasar shifted, and looked down. David stared at us. I put my head down. David began:
"Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Mars as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our tresspasses, just as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, now and forever. Amen."
To which they all replied, "Amen."

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