say.
I kind of believe them. It’s comforting to know that no one would be able to pick out my face from
a book of faces.
My father explained the importance of the white masks and veils when I was still very young. Long
before I needed that protection. “One day,” he’d said, “someone might take you into a room and
present you with a book of faces. They might ask you to point out people you know.”
He insisted that while such a situation was not probable, everything is always possible and our
masks and veils protect us from being identified by someone else in that room looking at a book filled
with faces.
So if Johnny’s looking for the names of the board members, sorry, buddy. Can’t help you there. Not
only have I probably never met them, I would not be able to recognize them if I had.
But I have other secrets he’d probably like to know.
I know for a fact that the work I did in my father’s lab wasn’t hurting people. Once I was old
enough to assist him in the lab he made sure my job assignment was pure, sanctioned scientific
research.
What he and I worked on in private, well… that’s a whole other matter.
Those are big things. Secret things. Things I have thought about constantly since I was old enough
to begin wondering about this strange, isolated world I was born into.
No one knows about that stuff, though. I’m sure of it. I would not be here doing this if they did. It’s
the whole reason information in our organization is all need-to-know. It’s the reason we wear veils.
It’s the reason we all live and work on different islands.
But why they do those things or what they hope to accomplish by doing them? I don’t know that. My father has explained what he’s doing in the labs in very general terms. I get why he’s doing it. But
how he did it? When he started doing it?
That I do not know. All I know is I will protect him and his secrets with every fiber of my being
because this makes us stronger. And if there’s one thing he’s drilled into my head since I was a very
small girl it’s this: We live in a very dangerous world and the only people we can count on are each
other.
“Well?” Johnny asks.
His voice is very deep. Kind of growly. Authoritative and commanding. But all the Way men speak
like that.