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Progress

I'm now unveiled. I feel at once more self-confidence and also more mortal terror: I'm visible now. People can see me. People will notice me. I have to get used to being seen. None of us who live in here now have ever been exposed to that before. Joan-prime put on that veil before we were born.

Figment's wife still intimidates me -- not by personality, but by position. She's touchy over my position as well, and it's dreadfully hard to get to know someone personally while on opposite sides of the undiscovered country. We've got a decent go-between, though, even though it's disconcerting for all concerned. Not all of us are used to living in the middle of a fantasy novel, after all.

I've got an extra attachment on the cord that usually only holds my silver star. This one's for all the things that need to stay there as a reminder at all times...
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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