All eyes were cast to the table in the back corner of the lunch room the next day. Some tried to be surreptitious, others tried not to look at all, but their eyes kept being drawn to that back table. They would trail off mid-sentence as their eyes shifted, tune out their friends by accident, or somehow manage to drop what they were holding back onto their tray.

It was strange; it was an anomaly; their eyes had to be tricking them! Why would Mace Mind be sitting with Aida? He was the most popular boy in school, and she was…human. They weren't even in the same class, so it wasn't like they could be collaborating on a school project. It just didn't make sense!

But, for once, Roxanne wasn't paying attention to the other eyes focused on her. The only eyes she really noticed were the bright green ones belonging to the Cerulean sitting across from her. He was going on about one of the things he was planning to invent, a trash disintegrator that was better for the planet than the current system and realigned the odor molecules upon combustion to release a pleasant scent, rather than a fowl one. He was very animated, very excited about it, and she could see why. He planned on making it portable, which would mean that it could be kept in every Cerulean home, eliminating the need for the large, oversized machines that made their rounds every other day to collect trash.

"The problem is," he went on," that if I could get it all to work, work out all the bugs, and start working on a getting patent, the corporation that controls the trash collectors will try to buy me out."

"Why would they do that?"

"The product would be a threat to their own company; it'd probably put them out of business, and they don't want that. So they'd buy the product at just about any cost to make sure it doesn't hit the market."

"But isn't that sort of good?" Roxanne asked. "For you, I mean." She'd finally found her voice, and while it was quiet and soft, it was firm and unwavering. She didn't care what Gilda said; In theory, probability had nothing to do with past results, and while the probability was high that Mace would somehow turn on her (he was so much better than her; how could he not?), she was willing to trust that he wouldn't. It was probably stupid of her, but she was a stupid creature. It came with being human.

Mace shook his head. "Not really. If you do so, you're selling out, and I'd rather not. The purpose of inventing things that could catapult us into the future is to enhance life—like the minion suits," he said, patting Minion's arm. "I didn't create Minion's suit to get rich—my family already has enough wealth to last centuries—I did it to help him move around better. The money was sort of like an afterthought."

"So just don't sell out."

"I don't plan to, but it might be difficult not to. The company would probably find a way to take me to court on the issue…" he trailed off, then shook his head. "Anyway, I've spent far too much time speaking. What would you like to talk about?" Roxanne pulled her head back in surprise.

"Me?" she squeaked. "I—I—What do you want to talk about?" Mace laughed.

"Come now, surely you're interested in something you'd like to converse about? Science? Animals? Politics?"

"I—I plan to be a reporter when I'm older," she said, tucking her hair nervously behind her ear. It had been cut short, one side longer than the other, and it hung in her face and threatened to get in her eyes, but Roxanne liked the way it looked. It made her look just a little bit more normal to have it shorter, and the way it was styled made her eyes stand out.

"Really?" Mace asked, leaning forward. "What kind of reporter? Public, private, holographic wave projector?..."

"No," Roxanne said, shaking her head and disrupting her hair as her hands went to grip her seat. "I could never be on HWP. No one would ever take me seriously. No one would ever hire me. I just plan to work for a daily news print station. No one would ever have to know what I am."

"Really? I think you'd be excellent as a Visio-audio reporter. What do you think, Minion?"

"I agree," Minion said immediately, smiling brightly. "I have a feeling that you and Gilda would be able to get the scoop on just about anything." Gilda cast wary eyes on the minion opposite her, but the fish named for his occupation smiled back warmly, and she felt somehow at ease. Still, she wasn't just going to let her guard down completely. Roxanne shook her head, picking at her food.

"Regardless of how good a reporter I'd be, you generally don't really tune into the news segment for news when there's a female reporter. Men do it to see the pretty women and other women do it to compare themselves or make themselves feel better by tearing down the little things that make the reporter so pretty. I haven't got anything. They wouldn't hire me, no matter how good a reporter I was, because I don't fit the picture.

"Journalism is better anyway," she added as an afterthought, as if to pretend she hadn't said anything before that. "People don't throw things at you." Mace and Minion shared a look before Mace reached over and patted Roxanne's hand. She flinched, sending her fork flying backward, then winced. "Sorry," she said sheepishly, but Mace didn't hear her over his own words.

"Don't worry," he told her, glaring behind him at all the people staring. Most of them immediately looked away, though the eyes of Deldja and Flooze stayed situated on them, paying no mind to courtesy or even the appearance of it. "I'll make sure no one throws anything at you," he finished, looking back to her. His usually smiling face was serious and slightly distraught. Roxanne's heart fluttered and her voice stuck in her throat as she realized that he hadn't withdrawn his hand. She blushed, slowly pulling her own hand out from under his and setting it in her lap with the other. She knew he wouldn't have kept it there on purpose—no one really liked to touch her.

"I—Thank you," she said, trying to find a way to express her gratitude and her misgivings at the same time. "But there is still this afternoon before we've our three days of rest and recuperation, and after that comes a new week of school. Your heroic act was greatly appreciated—you've no idea how much it has meant, really—but it will be forgotten by the time school resumes."

"Then I'll yell at them again," Mace said, his face creasing in remembered fury. "And if that doesn't work, I'll do it again. And if I have to, I'll resort to violence. No one should be bullied, especially to the depths you have! It's not right, and I won't stand for it. Hey!" he exclaimed, his expression becoming excited again. He looked adorable, and Roxanne blushed and look down again, biting her lip as she tried not to smile. "I've got a meeting with the leader of the 16th Wave news segment tomorrow! I'm supposed to be explaining one of my newer inventions, and I could put in a good word for you, if you wanted!"

"That would be very kind of you," Roxanne said. "But that would be lying. You haven't observed any of my work."

"Oh," Mace said, realizing that she was right. "Well, then I fully ent—intend to fix that!" he said, smacking his fist into his palm with determination on his face. "Do you think I could come over tonight to see you in action?" Roxanne looked up, shock spreading across her face like egg yolk across a smooth surface.

"I—I don't know," she said. She looked suddenly terrified. "I—I've never shown anyone my work before, and I—I—" Roxanne's eyes turned pleadingly to Gilda. "What do you think, Gilda?" Gilda thought for a moment. She knew Roxanne wanted her to tell her that she shouldn't let them come, to give her an out, but a minion was supposed to look after their Master's best interest, not just provide them with what they wanted…

"I think," Gilda said slowly, not looking at Roxanne to avoid her silent begging, "that you should. Visio-audio reporters are better known and have a higher amount of prestige and income, and I think it would be good for you."

"Excellent!" Mace exclaimed, leaping up and subsequently tumbling over backward after getting his feet tangled up in the legs of the seat. "I'm fine," he said quickly as he swiftly climbed back up, crouching on the floor and poking his head up over the tabletop with a smile. "Minion and I will be there," he promised as he got his feet back under him and sat himself back down. Roxanne smiled nervously. She still looked scared, like a small mammal caught in the headlights of a hovercycle.

"O—OK," Roxanne said with a nod. "I'll—I'll make sure to have something ready," she promised.

"Wonderful! Minion and I can't wait, right Minion?"

"Yes, Sir!" Minion chirped in agreement.

"That reminds me," Mace said almost randomly, forehead scrunched in thought, "and please, don't ask me how it reminds me, because I've no idea—but I forgot to tell you that I love what you have done with your hair." If Roxanne was stunned before, now she was absolutely shocked.

"R—Really?" Roxanne asked, touching her head and resisting the urge to hide her face as it turned practically scarlet. Mace nodded, opening his mouth as if to say more, when the bell rang. He looked up, growling as if there were someone to blame for cutting him off, but then he sighed and touched heads with Roxanne before they left.

Roxanne felt lighter than air and as heavy as Neutronium at the same time as she walked away. He'd said he liked her hair—her hair, the part of her she wasn't supposed to have!

But now she had to give him a report.

A live report.

In person.

She was doomed.

Author Comments:

Here's some interesting and perhaps useful information:
Visio-audio is visual-audio; sight and sound.
The Holographic Wave Projector (HWP) is like Television.
A Segment is like a show.
A Wave is like a channel.
The daily news print is sort of like a newspaper in Harry Potter—some of the pictures move, and the prints are made of super-thin, super-small, digital materials that are recycled everyday to print new ones, and every issue everywhere ever is stored in a database.
The Cerulean week has eleven days. Students go to school for eight days and then take three days off for the weekend.
Neutronium is a metal found in the remains of dead stars. It's so dense that one square inch of the stuff on the Earth would drop right through to the core, breaking through anything in its way. (Why yes, I am a dork! XDXD) :F

You could say I have too much time on my hands to have thought all of this up. But then, I never seem to have much time to spare these days.

Edit: Thanks to elthfrae for corrections! :D