Out of the blue, Ian asked me, "What's up with the platypus?"

"What?" I looked over at him. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering. What is it? Is it a bird? Is it a mammal? Is it a space alien? What?"

"Well, it's . . . it's a . . . hmph. I don't really know. Let's look it up." I grabbed the trusty laptop and brought up my Web browser. "Should we risk Wikipedia, or just do a general search?"

"What's wrong with Wikipedia?"

"Let's just say it's . . . not always reliable." I typed the address into the top bar anyway, and hit the little button. Then I had to click for English, and when I did that, the page that came up was about Brazil.

"Hey, this is interesting," I said. "The Empire of Brazil was a 19th-century nation that broadly comprised the territories which form modern Brazil. Its government was a representative parliamentary constitutional monarchy under the rule of Emperors Dom Pedro I and his son Dom Pedro II. On 7 September 1822, Pedro declared the independence of Brazil and, after waging a successful war against his father's kingdom, was acclaimed on 12 October as Pedro I, the first Emperor of Brazil. Wow, and I thought I had family issues!"

"What about the platypus?"

"Oh, right." I typed PLATYPUS into the search box. "The platypus - I'm not gonna try to read the scientific name, so don't even ask me - is a semi-aquatic mammal endemic to eastern Australia, including Tasmania."

"Endemic?"

"Native, I think that means. Together with the four species of echidna, it is one of the five extant species of monotremes -"

"I thought this was supposed to be in English," Ian complained.

"It is ... the only mammals that lay eggs instead of giving birth to live young."

"Wow. Why is that?"

"Do I look like a zoologist?"

"I don't know, I've never seen one."

"Let's keep reading. Maybe it tells us. The bizarre appearance of this egg-laying, venomous, duck-billed, beaver-tailed, otter-footed mammal baffled European naturalists when they first encountered it, with some considering it an elaborate fraud. It is one of the few venomous mammals; the male platypus has a spur on the hind foot that delivers a venom capable of causing severe pain to humans. Well, duh, it's Australian. Everything in Australia wants to kill you."

"Everything?"

"Except some of the sheep."

He raised his eyebrows at me. "You're making that up."

"Well, okay, yeah, the part about the sheep. Australian sheep can be pretty vicious."

"Channy!"

"Okay, okay! What else? Until the early 20th century it was hunted for its fur, but it is now protected throughout its range. Although captive breeding programmes have had only limited success and the platypus is vulnerable to the effects of pollution, it is not under any immediate threat."

"Why is there an E in 'programs'?" Ian asked.

"European spelling."

"Australia isn't in Europe."

"It was originally settled by the British."

"Britain isn't in Europe, either. It's an island."

"It's off the coast of Europe. It's part of the European continent."

"But it's not actually part of Europe. Europe is the mainland."

"Why are we arguing over something like this? Who cares if Britain is in Europe or not? We're talking about Australia. Do you want me to read you the rest of this - holy cow, this thing is long! - this article?"

He looked it over. "Yeah, you're right, it is long. I'll read it myself."

"Why the interest in platypuses, anyway?"

"Platypi," he corrected me. "The proper plural is platypi."

"Are you sure? That just sounds wrong to me." I scanned down the considerable length of the article. "They use platypuses here. Several times. Maybe both are correct, like hippopotamuses."

The wicked gleam in his eye told me he remembered that back-and-forth conversation on paper that had ended up getting us kicked out of the Common Room.

"Seriously, what's this about? Why did you ask me about the platypus, anyway?"

He was looking at the pictures. "Wow, did you know platypuses go all the way back to the Cretaceous period? And they branched off from marsupials millions of years ago? They have mammalian and reptilian DNA, and get this: they have ten sex chromosomes."

"Okaaaaay . . ." This whole conversation stopped making sense a long time ago.

"We're like the platypus."

"What? How am I like a platypus? Do I have a duck's bill? Webbed feet? Are you planning on one of us laying eggs any time soon?"

"No, I don't mean that. I mean, neither one thing nor the other."

"What things are we not?" Okay, that was worded awkwardly, but I had to know what he was getting at. I've found out that even when he doesn't seem to be making sense, Ian usually has a point. It's just hard to see it in the middle of all the platypuses.

"We're not normal. We're not like regular people."

I looked at him. "Ian, we haven't been regular people since we were kids. We have a special destiny, remember?"

"I don't mean that. I mean . . . you know."

"So who says that's not normal? It depends on who defines normal. Maybe the kangaroo thinks the platypus is weird, but Mr. Platypus doesn't think so. He's happy the way he is."

"You won't leave me and go back to being a kangaroo?"

"Look, I told you, that time with Allie Simpson was just kids fooling around -"

"She died, you know," he said, completely out of nowhere.

I stared at him. "What? When?"

"Last Friday. I just saw the notice in the paper."

"Where? Show me!"

And he went and dug the newspaper out of the recycling bin. "See, here it is. It's under her married name, but when I read the article I knew it was her." He passed it over to me.

I saw the photo before I read the obituary. Allie had been fourteen when I last saw her, but even seventy years later I recognized that go-to-hell grin. I skimmed the article, which briefly mentioned her short stay at the Training School in between her three marriages, her five children, and her career as a flight attendant. It listed the details for the wake and funeral, and for a moment I thought about attending, but then I decided that it wouldn't be a good idea. I was somebody she had kissed, a long time ago. She probably hadn't even remembered my name.

"I'll have to send a card," I said. "At least she had a good life."

"We'll never have a life like that," Ian said sadly. "We can't. Our duty comes first. Always has."

Now I understood. "That's what's bothering you? You want a family."

"Not right away, but yeah."

"Ian, we can still have that. I was talking about this with Len the other day. At some point we'll have to start training our replacements. We can't keep doing this forever. We're out of the cooler, and we're not going back."

"What do you mean, training our replacements? Can we do that?"

I nodded. "We're going to bring back the Training School. Probably not for a few years, but once we start having kids, we'll have to bring in reserves. Len still has to talk to Master Eubulon about it, but I think it's a go."

"How long do you think it'll take?"

"I don't know. A while."

He rested his head on my shoulder. "I can wait."