Her hypothesis ignites an excited volley of mixed chatter among the half dozen young planners. They spend the next two hours debating and discussing methods of practical implementation for Dyeawan’s theory. Every disagreement is used as springboard to new ideas rather than as the foundation for an argument. Dyeawan isn’t certain what she is witnessing here, but the interactions of these people are like nothing she has experienced.

By the time Edger adjourns the afternoon session, Dyeawan feels almost drunk. She isn’t sure any of them truly understood her points, or that she was speaking of real people and very real pain. They seemed to treat even the direst description of the Bottoms as an exercise for the mind. Dyeawan wonders if Edger doesn’t cultivate that kind of detachment among them, separating them from the reality of Crache so that they may plan its life and future without emotion.

The others rise, and navigate the simple maze of the table before filing out of the chamber. They all pause to offer a few kind words of parting to Dyeawan, several of them enthusiastically suggesting she join them for activities later in the evening. Dyeawan smiles and bows her head, responding in kind to each fellow planner. She is aware of how much she should be enjoying this, their display of the kind of acceptance and camaraderie she’s spent her entire life dreaming about. Yet she feels only emptiness and despair.

She and Edger remain behind when the rest of them have departed.

Edger raises his broadest, most jovially smiling mask to his face. “I believe that went exceedingly well for your first session.”

Dyeawan has only raw honesty left in her after hours of forced pleasantry. “When we first met I thought those masks were for you, to allow you to express yourself in a world that denied you that ability. But they’re not, are they? Those masks. They’re to put other people off. They might pity you or be repulsed by you when they first see your face, but in either case they are in control and see you as inferior. Those masks disturb and unsettle them in a way that puts you in control. It forces them to take you seriously, because we always take things that frighten us seriously.”

She doesn’t know why she’s telling him this now. It’s one of many observations she’s hidden in the back of her mind so no one would become aware of how much she sees. Perhaps she no longer cares what Edger knows about her.

Edger continues holding the mask in front of his face for several silent moments. He finally lowers it to the table.

“You continue to surprise and impress me,” he says.

“Do I belong here?” she asks him plainly.

“You belong here perhaps more than any of us, Dyeawan.”