The white space was reflecting and refracting light, making things seem distorted and strange. It was like a fun house at a fair.

"This is like a fun house," Macie said, looking at herself in a mirror, contorted into a strange, tall big headed, stilt walking figure in the glass.

"You've got that right," Chevron said, as he looked at his reflection. "I look like I haven't showered in weeks." His reflection was accurate. No one had the heart to tell him.

"Were those...?" I asked.

"They were the Dwellers." The Ambassador said. "But we'll be safe in here."

"Why?"

"They don't like their own reflections."

"I can't see why," Chevron said. "It's not like these things are accurate." No one said anything.

"We can't stay here long, either. It's dangerous," the Ambassador said.

"Is anything safe?" I asked.

The Ambassador shrugged.

Then the safe struck.