People had died. Maybe those had been the people she'd seen before. The flashes and the voices she'd heard of people begging. Or maybe this has happened before. It's happened before hasn't it? She's not sure. She's not sure about anything. Should they have done something to try to help those people? It was public. Blatant. A display to tell them that they should know there's nothing they can do. They're trapped here, powerless, and there's nothing at all they can do. The Head is the one that can do anything. That's what they're supposed to learn from that. It's the takeaway.

She hates this place. That's her takeaway from it. She hates this place and she hates the Head and there's nothing they can do. Except cry. That's what she's doing now. Crying by herself and hoping beyond hope nobody sees her. She'll be able to pretend it didn't bother her and hasn't gotten to her later. But not right now. Not after that. She's seen people die. She's killed people. She's helped to kill people. But that's somehow different than seeing a public execution like that. That's the moment true powerlessness sets in. Powerless. That's all they are here. At least Vincent wasn't in the room to see her.

But, of course he'd come in right then. She scrambles to try to wipe tears from her eyes and to force a smile as he comes in.