Okay guys, if it's a cameo you want…

I set down the book I was carrying when I see Sharlet gathering the others around the holoview screen. She's waving her arms frantically. "Come quickly, the tallests are making an announcement!" she cries. We all gather around in a half circle, our eyes wide.

"We would like to thank all of you who responded quickly to yesterday's emergency crisis, especially those who were immediately in the danger zone or protecting the eggs."

"The rest of you should have tried harder!" the purple-eyed one sneered.

"We have gotten a list of names from soldiers and supervisors of those who died in the attack, which can be found posted in the cafeteria or on the Irken mainframe web center. Today, however, we wish to announce the names of those brave Irkens who, due to their duty and bravery far above the rest of you, will be honored in a special ceremony."

The purple eye nods, holding up a sheet. He pauses, squinting. There's some momentary whispering, during which I catch the words "I can't read my own handwriting." After a few moments of confusion, he finally gets down to the names. "Aber 901, Aber 962, Beta 9, Bast 3, Cello 2, Carl 999, Den 3, Dar 3, Eee 432, Fe 333, Gregg 79, Jel 452, Keeny 12, Lars 93, Lissa 89, Original 773, Qaz 1, Toom 67, Willow 1, Zen 90, Zey 30, and Zyr 29."

"Me?" I squeal. "What did I do?"

"You saved a soldier's life," Carlit reminds, shaking my shoulders. They look at me in awe, like it had just been announced that I'm going to be put on a pedestal and worshipped as a goddess for the rest of my life.

"Wow. You're going to meet the tallest," Flaw whispers, shoving her hands in her mouth.

"They never said that. They just sad we'd be honored in a ceremony, and I didn't really save his life! Willow did!"

"Take the fame while you can get it!" Carlit cries, as if I were odd.

"Give credit where credit is due," I retort back.

"I can't believe you get to meet the tallest," Flaw repeats, like a parrot stuck in a daze.

"They never said that!" I cry again, uncomfortable with all the attention. I want to go back to my workstation and sink into the tile floor.

"Will you… will you pay close attention and tell me what they smell like?" Flaw asks, her eyes starry.

Smell? "Um… all right…" I promise, backing away from the gathered assemblage of librarians. They're like a pack of wild rat creatures smelling out a pray animal. I don't like the way they're looking at me, or the things they're saying.

"Original!" a happy voice cries. We all jump up in the air. It's Gregg, standing in the doorway with a huge smile plastered on his face. "I just got back to the Massive this morning, and I've been looking all over for you. Did you hear that announcement they just made?"

"Yes, and I still can't believe it."

"Why not? You saved my life with your blood. You deserve to be honored."

I cross my arms and narrow my eyes. "I didn't save your life… Willow did!" I repeat, upset. Why won't anyone listen to me? I'm trying to say something.

Gregg doesn't notice my attitude, or doesn't care, because that silly plastered grin never leaves his face. "I can't believe it… honored by the tallests! This will help my chances of getting to be a general!" he says as if in a dream. He looks suddenly over at me, his face twisting from elated to confused. "Hey… you're really upset…"

Someone finally noticed, I think internally. My claws are balled into angry fists. I can't really be mad at HIM, though. He has every reason to be happy. I let my hands relax, letting the breath out of my little lungs in one great heave. My head droops down. "I'll be okay… I'm just not comfortable with all the attention," I sigh.

"Well… I know somewhere we can go and not be noticed after you're done with work… if you'd… want to," he stammers, staring at his feet as he does. His body shakes a little. I stare at him. Did he just ask me out? He looks genuinely nervous but… but… this can't be happening, I think. Good things like this don't happen to a little Irken like me, not all in one day. I look up to make sure there isn't an anvil about to drop on my head or anything. That would be my luck.

"That sounds… nice." I hear the words slip out of my mouth, but I didn't say them. I didn't mean to say them. I don't know what I'm doing. I… I pause. It feels so nice to be appreciated. I can't help but let myself smile, despite the constant questioning of my coworkers through the rest of the day. I'm actually looking forward to seeing Gregg.

The next few weeks whirl by before I really know what's going on. Being "honored" simply meant that I got a certificate supposedly signed by the tallests, but probably signed by one of their service drones. I find myself spending more time with Gregg than I'd ever imagined I'd spend with ANY Irken outside of my job. Willow is here and there, on and off. I quickly learn that you do not arrange to see Willow… Willow arranges to see you.

The thing that confuses me most is Willow's on again, off again like of Gregg. Sometimes she's his best friend, laughing at all his jokes and complimenting his SIR unit. She'll playfully pat his arm, or mess up his antennae, or poke his ribs. Then there are the other times, when she'll stand up and storm out of the room if he so much as says her name or tries to get her to pass the nachos.

During the times when Willow decides she can stand to be friendly, the three of us will often get together after work and picnic out in the recreation room. I like the feel of fake grass beneath my hands. I've never seen real grass before, as I came from Urban Capitalia. Gregg assures me that real grass is far nicer. Willow insists that real grass is itchy, so I have no idea what to think about it. I have a feeling that real grass doesn't amount to much more than what you make of it, like most things.

I hold out a letter I've received to Gregg. "I've been accepted into the scholarship class."

He beams at me. "Congratulations!"

I fold up the letter and stick it in my pod. "There's only one problem… I never filled out the forms to do so."

"Willow?" he asks, looking around as if speaking her name might summon her and her bad attitude right out of the floor. Despite the times she's kind to him, Gregg doesn't like Willow. He doesn't trust her, and he always says he can't understand her. Gregg, I have learned, is the black and white sort. Shades of gray simply confuse his mental military radar, and if anything only comes in shades of gray, it's Willow.

"Possibly. I don't understand why she wants me to take the test so bad," I say, letting my mind drift off. I still think of that moment in the closet. Half of me wishes we hadn't been interrupted, the other half wishes the interruption had come sooner.

So that night I find myself in a huge, blue auditorium. Sadly, however, it is only half full. I know that the military test prep classes, held every 20 years, usually fill two auditoriums this size and then spill out. Willow, in an email, called it a "sad sign of our society." Being the sort who doesn't like being crushed, I'm kind of glad that the room is mostly empty. Afraid that my hearing will fail me, I sit near the front. Some of the attendees have their robots in chairs next to them. Others have their robots sitting under their chairs. Moby chooses the later, curling around my ankles and powering down for the duration of the class.

A shorter Irken with a rounded midsection wanders onto the stage, adjusting his external ocular assistant devices. He smiles weakly at us. "Well, I have some good and some bad news. The bad news," he says in a nasal smear, "is that the teacher we had lined up for this class was eaten in the attacks. All we ever got back of them was their left antennae." A couple members of the class squeak at this tidbit of news. Scholars are not soldiers by any means, and don't handle gore quite as well. One of the reasons we aren't soldiers in the first place, I suppose. "All our other teachers are busy with the newly hatched batch of smeets. We didn't have any clue who we were going to get, and let me tell you, we asked everyone."


There are a couple of whispers from the crowd. Will we have a teacher? A lot of the Irkens here are really serious about taking the test, and unlike me, would be very upset if they had to wait another 50 years to take the class. "BUT, fortunately, a volunteer came forward at the lost possible moment. They've never taught the class, but they're taken the test… so… please be kind to them."

We all sit forward eagerly, waiting for our new teacher to show him or her self.