Kitt adjusted his black tie in the break room mirror.

The hulking body to which he was tethered looked back at him, flanked by the forms of his brothers, Indiana and Remington.

Remington straightened his collar and checked his jaw for signs of shaving cream. Indiana shot him a wink, and Kitt grinned back.

“We look like Double-Oh Seven,” Remington noted approvingly.

They did look handsome in their suits. Kitt wondered vaguely why they were required to wear suits when their job was to serve people who wore informal garments. He had a vague sense that clothing should denote social status. But many things in this place were upside down.

“Wait until Honey sees you.” Indiana elbowed him and then headed out the door to the dining room.

Kitt felt himself standing up straighter at the thought. Honey would not be here, but surely he would see her during the day. He wondered vaguely if his appearance in a fine suit would sway her stance on mating.

“Don’t worry, brother,” Remington said mildly. “She’ll come around.”

“I wonder if she should,” Kitt said.

“I don’t understand,” Remington replied.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe we shouldn’t be here? I’ve studied these creatures. Their existence is delicate,” Kitt said.

“Yeah,” Remington said. “We’re going to change that.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Remington sounded shocked. “If we don’t they’ll burn themselves out in two rotations of Esmos.”

Kitt shrugged.

“Don’t you like them?” Remington asked.

“I love them,” Kitt said simply. “Everything about this place is magical.”

He didn’t have the words to express what he felt - that the tragic future of this blue-green planet was what made it special, what made each moment on it poignant.

Maybe it was wrong for Aerie to try and right the wrongs of such a flawed and lovely place.

“You’re just lonely, brother,” Remington said, wrapping an arm around Kitt’s shoulder. “She’ll come around. And when she does you’ll be glad to save her planet.”

Kitt and his brothers went to work. And within the first few minutes, he was too overwhelmed to worry about anything other than how to satiate the starving mass of customers. He was elated, sticky, terrified and sorely tempted to use his gift, but he wanted the experience to be as close to human as possible.

It all began with a single table.

“You’re up, Kitt,” Malik told him, giving him a hearty thump on the back. “Table 16, boy. A good place to start.”

Kitt had memorized all of the table numbers already, and he knew which ones he was responsible for. He headed over to the small round table by the window overlooking the golf course. A man sat with a newspaper open, while a woman and a young girl talked quietly.

“Welcome to Maxwell’s,” Kitt said, as he had been taught.

“We’ve been here five days already, but thanks,” the man said from behind his newspaper.

“You are most welcome,” Kitt replied. “What may I bring you to drink?”

They wanted coffee, tea and a mimosa.

He dashed off to obtain the needed beverages before he could forget which went to whom.

But on his way, Malik pointed him to another table.

A man and woman of advanced age were sitting nearby. On top of the tablecloth their wrinkled hands were intertwined. They both gazed fondly out the window.

Kitt grabbed drinks for the first table and brought them over, but had sadly forgotten which item belonged to whom.

Looking over the glasses he seemed to remember the husband wanting coffee.

So he gave the man the coffee, the woman the tea since it was similar to coffee, and set the glass of fruit juice in front of the little girl. He congratulated himself for his quick thinking.

“Yum,” the child said looking eagerly at the juice.

“Oh, my,” said her mother, quickly switching their cups.

“My apologies,” Kitt said gravely as he watched the mother put milk in the child’s tea.

“Ha,” the father chuckled, folding up his newspaper.

“We’re ready to order,” the mother said. “Josephine will have the steak and eggs, well-done.”

“I assure you that they will be done very well by the skilled cooks in our kitchen,” Kitt said immediately.

The woman gave him a strange look.

“I’ll have the same, but I want my steak rare,” the father declared.

Kitt tried desperately to remember if there were any rare meats offered in the kitchen.

“Do you mean ostrich?” He thought that might be on the menu, though it was a dinner item.

“What?” The father looked pretty annoyed. “Don’t try to up-sell me, boy. Rare New York strip.”

“Yes, sir,” Kitt replied.

“And I’d like the Greek omelet, please,” the mother said. “Hold the onions.”

“How long do you want me to hold them for?” Kitt was completely bewildered. It was against policy for him to touch the food, he was sure of it. But Malik had said they were to give the guests whatever they wanted. It was a pretty problem.

“Ha,” the father barked out again. “I like your sense of humor, kid. But don’t quit your day job.”

Kitt was confused but he understood the second part of what the man had said.

“I shall not quit, sir,” he declared. “I will serve your family faithfully.”

He dashed off to tell the cook their strange order before the man could reply.

On his way past the other table, he noticed the older couple look up at him expectantly.

“I will return,” he called to them.

Malik pointed out a third table on his way back to take the couple’s drink order.

It went on like that endlessly.

Once in a while Kitt would bump into Remington or Indiana. He could tell by their expressions that they were as overwhelmed as he was.

At last, when the sun was high in the sky, the number of guests diminished.

“Last table, boy,” Malik whispered to Kitt, pointing to a table overlooking the golf course where a young woman with fluffy yellow hair sat alone, studying a packet of papers. “Then you’re getting a half hour break before the lunch crowd starts.”

Kitt approached her immediately.

“Welcome to Maxwell’s,” he said. “What may I bring you to drink?”

“Oh, hey,” she said, looking up. “Um, can I have some orange juice?”

“Of course,” Kitt said. “I will bring it right away.”

She smiled and he noticed that her lips were very red, and the outlines of her eyes were very dark.

She looked back down at her papers and Kitt looked too. The lines of words were striped with neon yellow.

He headed to the kitchen to get her beverage.

When he returned with the glass, her eyes were closed and her red lips were moving, but no sound came out.

He froze, wondering what was happening. He certainly had not experienced this in any of his other tables.

Was she praying? He knew some humans thanked their creator for their meal, but her meal had not yet been requested and it certainly wasn’t here.

She looked up. “Oh,” she said, “sorry.”

“I regret that I have interrupted your prayers,” he ventured.

“My what?” She looked terribly confused. Then she looked down at the papers in front of her. “Oh,” she said, “no, I wasn’t praying. I was memorizing lines. I’m auditioning.”

“Oh,” Kitt said, trying desperately to put together what all those words meant.

“I want to be in the play at the end of the session,” the woman confided. “But I’m having a hard time with the lines.”

Suddenly it clicked. Kitt had read a little Shakespeare in his studies with Dr. Bhimani. He had not learned much about love as she hoped he would do, but he liked the idea of performing.

“I probably just need someone to help me with the lines,” she said with a little laugh.

“I will help you,” he told her solemnly.

“You will?” She smiled brightly. She almost reminded him of Honey for a moment, except that her smile wasn’t as warm.

“Of course,” Kitt replied. Malik had said he was to help every guest, no matter their request.

“What time are you finished here?” She looked up at him, her cheeks pinker than before.

“I have a break after your meal is complete,” he said.

“Oh, great,” she said. “Then I’ll just have a muffin to go.”

He ran off to obtain the item she wanted and returned with a small white paper bag.

“Great,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the pavilion.”

She got up and he watched her exit the dining hall.

When he moved to gather her dishes he noticed that she had absentmindedly left money behind, just like all the other diners.

He carefully folded it and placed it in his pocket. On his way out he would turn it all in to Malik so that it could be returned to its proper owners. It had been so busy there hadn’t been time to address the matter. He hoped it was not his fault that the customers had been so careless with their belongings.

In any case, Malik would surely help him make it right. He was a fine employer.