They had agreed to meet for breakfast, but Jack was late.

While they waited for their friend, Will and Paul wandered through the hotel’s garden.

“Why is the mask so important to Jack?” asked Paul.

“Honestly, I don’t know. It’s become like an obsession with him in the past few months. I mean, yes, it’s an important artifact, but we can study it just fine the way it is. Removing it from the wall won’t fundamentally change anything about its nature or its mysteries. In fact... I’m not even sure you should try to do it at all. It’d be like encouraging his compulsion.”

Paul shrugged. “I disagree. I mean, I understand your point of view, but I feel you’re taking it to the other extreme. You said it yourself, whether or not I succeed, it won’t change anything. But not only about the mask. It won’t change anything about Jack either. His obsession will still be there. If anything, seeing it finally in his hands might make it less gripping.”

“Maybe...”

“To tell you the truth, I’m quite curious about it myself. I see it as a challenge. I don’t know if I can do it, but I would like to try.”

“You always did like a challenge...”

Paul laughed. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

After twenty minutes had passed, hunger convinced them to start without their friend.

They sat down at a table and dug into their pancakes.

“So what is this mask exactly, anyway? What do we know about it?”

“Not much, really. It’s supposed to be some form of alien technology...”

Paul glanced at his friend. “You don’t think so?”

“I have a hard time swallowing it,” he answered. “I mean... if it’s of alien origin, then where are the aliens? Why do we have all this stuff they supposedly built but can’t find any traces of the people themselves—no writing, no graves, no cities in ruins, no spaceships... It makes little sense to me.”

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“What would be its origin, then?”

“Qojja was colonized so long ago that we’ve forgotten the details of those early years. I think all this so-called alien technology we’ve been finding is more likely to have originated with human ancestors. It would also explain that it’s been so easy for us to figure out how it all works...”

“Except for the mask.”

“Well, yes,” he frowned. “I’ll admit that the mask has been a puzzle.”

“Wouldn’t there be traces of all this though, if your theory was correct? It’s not like the old days on Earth, when civilizations came and went without leaving any consistent documents... Ever since mankind started to explore other worlds—and even some time before that—we’ve kept records, all of it written in a unique language... So where’s the evidence?”

“It’s not that simple,” argued Will. “There was the Purge and several devastating wars that all led to the destruction of records. Add to that data corruption and even, in some well-known cases, sabotage, and you end up with some rather large holes in our history...”

“It’s not that bad!”

“Not for the Weld at large, sure, but Qojja has been plagued with such events. There are more blurry periods in its history than you might think. My theory is consistent with those records that we do have. Believe me, I’ve checked and double-checked! That’s my job, after all.”

Paul chuckled. “Alright. I don’t know that I buy it, but I’ll grant you it’s a possibility.”

“Thank you so much,” jested Will.

They ate for a while in silence.

“Do we at least know why it’s called the Face of Xian?”

Will took a sip of his coffee before answering.

“Yes and no. We can safely assume it must bear the traits of the man it’s named after—or that it was considered a close enough match. But we don’t know the details of who first called it that, let alone when it happened.”

“And who was Xian?”

“Hey guys! Sorry I’m late.” Jack arrived at their table holding a tray full of food. “I overslept,” he said with a grimace.

“Doesn’t look like that quashed your appetite.”

He snickered as he sat down next to them. “Never! So, what have I interrupted?”

“Paul was asking me who Xian was.”

“Ah! Good question.” He chewed, coughed, and swallowed a chunk of waffle before he continued. “Xian was a madman. Though to be fair, it’s more myth than history. The few records that mention him talk of an obsessed individual who prophesied the end of the world... you know the type.”

“You don’t think he really existed?”

“All I know is he was real enough that a mask was made in his likeness.”

“Or,” said Will, “the mask was a work of art inspired by the myth, created and named centuries after the fact.”

Jack made a face. “You can’t really believe that. That thing is too technologically advanced to be just a piece of art. It obviously once served a specific purpose.”

“You mean beyond being just a mask?” asked Paul with interest.

“It wouldn’t need to be so intricate if hiding a face was its sole purpose.”

“You’ve both made me even more curious to see it for myself.”

“Good,” grinned Jack. “We’ll head there in the afternoon.”