What's Real

"I'm sure if she had there'd be a damn ice sculpture in every corner. No, I had some shaper apprentice handle it. Someone who wouldn't go yabbing about the crazy guy and his snow maps. And I wouldn't tell her either. If she knew this a place this cold was attached to her precious Lucid, she'd probably petition to come in here and make it into a rose garden."

"So why make it cold anyway? What's wrong with a rose garden?"

Yates walked up next to Thomas. He waved his hand past one of the sheets and past the bulletin board itself. He held it next to one of the ice walls. He formed a fist with his hand and knocked against the wall. Once. Twice. Three times. It echoed just a small amount and that whisper reverberterted around the small cave.

"Cause in here," He finally responded, "I need to remember what's real."