A phrase flicks through his mind: Bureau of the Architect.

He realises his mistake too late; he can't take that one back now. But now illuminated, what Hythlodaeus says is true, echoes something almost like reality--albeit one manifest in ways that Dirk knows Hythlodaeus cannot even fathom.

Still--nominally, they should agree. He does agree--at least with that much. Everything is built and constructed and engineered. All that is, is a matter of design and execution. Not 'just' people, but especially 'people.'

But he doesn't agree past that point, he can't. His brain builds and collapses thoughts at rapid pace, creating and destroying arguments in a fevered race for why. Most of it means nothing--nothing usable, at any rate.

One thought especially rises out of that rubble:

People are whatever I say they are.

But he can't say that now, not here.

"That's really how you see yourself?" he asks, slower, doubts snagging at last on just about the latest thing out of Hythlodaeus' mouth. "That's just downright depressing."

'Just about,' that is, because he knows bait when he hears it. And he's not taking it. Not this time.