"Yeah, pretty much, want to see?"

"Sure."

The bot projects a slightly accelerated video of Bored Glam Projection.

"Huh. That's interesting. I'd somehow expected it to become like a motionless robot or some such."

"Well, apparently you didn't expect it very hard."

"Maybe that expectation conflicted with some more subconscious expectation that it behave like, well, me. Or something."

"It does look a lot like you might if you were that devoid of things to do and the wherewithal to see something to do."

"Heh. That it does, I suppose, though being without the wherewithal to see something to do, with my computer right there..."

"Well, yes, the copy lacks initiative, we knew that."

"Yeah."

Her presentation's well-received enough. Next's Echo, who talks about self-defense, then Rewind, who presents stuff about gangs, then Glimmer, who talks about Philadelphia, then Glam. They walk into the small auditorium, silent, and look at their audience, propping their head on their elbows, leaning on a lectern they conjured.

The audience looks back. They've been sitting here kind of a while now and are fidgety. Somebody is surreptitiously eating a sandwich.

"Bored, are you?" they ask softly, but their voice comes from tiny surreptitious speakers at the backs of a few chairs, in spots no one was paying attention to, as if they were right there over their shoulders.

Sandwich kid jumps and drops his sandwich and looks miserably at it.

"Sorry about your sandwich, kid," they say. "I'd offer to conjure you another one, but my conjured food tends to disappear after a few bites. Terrible weakness, I know."

Sandwich kid gets a hissed reprimand from one of the chaperon teachers and scoops the remains of his sandwich into its bag and puts it away.

"If you had a parahuman power," they ask, still leaning on the conjured lectern, "what would you like it to be?"

...The kids are not sure if they're supposed to answer that. They're probably not all supposed to talk at once, right?

"I meant you, sandwich kid," they clarify. "What's your name?"

"...Todd."

"I wanna be a dentist," says Todd.

"Oh, that's cool! Is one of—" Pause. Shake head. "I have a time limit, we'll chat later if you want." They straighten up. "Does anyone here want to be a superhero? Or, perhaps, a supervillain? Just raise your hands if you do."

There were a couple of twitches when Glam said "superhero" but nobody seems to want to own up to "or, perhaps, a supervillain".