“Go on,” Lettie prompted. “You have ten minutes.”
Ten minutes sounded like a life time to Ayn, but she squared her shoulders and walked inside. She stood just inside the threshold as the door clicked shut behind her and stared at the wall opposite her.
“It’s glass,” a voice to her right spoke.
Ayn jumped as the man stepped towards her. How had she not seen him? she wondered as she did her best to cover up her fright with a smile. “Father Gheraeld, sir,” she said, bowing her head.
“Have you seen glass before, Ayn?” he asked.
“No sir,” she said softly, looking into the face she’d seen her whole life—the shock of silver hair, deep set eyes, square chin and jutting jaw.
“We don’t have materials on this planet to produce glass,” he said, taking her arm and leading her to the wall. “So that’s not surprising. Go ahead, touch. It won’t break.”
Ayn blinked, unsure at first what she was looking at. She recognized her reflection, from having seen it in screens before, but this was different. Beyond their reflections Ayn saw a room below—the room full of people they’d passed on their way to the hallway where Lettie had taken them. “Is it a screen?” she asked.