In a nearby alcove, one of the roundels blossomed open, closely followed by another, then another. An eye looked around the hall, focusing on Chris Cwej as he sat in his own little secret garden. An ear listened to the whispers, searching for their source, then realizing that they came from somewhere beyond the rational universe. A mouth frowned, disapprovingly.
– Perhaps I should have shown you how it all ends, said the whispers. Perhaps you didn’t understand the choice after all.
Nobody was watching as the roundels closed, and the eye, the ear, and the mouth melted away into the fabric of the ship.