The first thing the CiD shows is not Balthazar but a good look at the room, as promised. The view slowly pans from one corner to the opposite one, displaying a table that is perfectly undisturbed, walls that have not been punched or vandalized (any more than they already have been, anyway), pamphlets still neatly stacked... everything appears to be in order, more or less. And then Balthazar turns the CiD to himself. It's funny — after all this time, he knows he doesn't need a mirror, he never has, yet he still feels the slightest twinge of self-consciousness. Yet the face that shows is, of course, the face he projects, a businessman with a smile that evolved from piranhas, a man in his late thirties or early forties who has taken care of himself and, honestly, looks like he's doing some kind of Patrick Bateman impression.

Carefully, he places the CiD on the table and backs away from it, spreading his hands to show they're empty, and that he has no weapons.