As the parade of costumes passed by him, Tred tried to distract himself by figuring out how they were constructed.

That flying specter was clearly just a series of drones, with the controller on the ground below wearing a stealth suit.

Another, a giant skeleton wearing ancient and elaborate finery, was a bit more difficult; there seemed to be no obvious machinery in the extended limbs, nothing other than simple LEDs in the glowing sockets. The smoke that escaped from its mouth when it opened was from the melting of frozen carbon dioxide.

Then he saw the cables snaking from the limbs around the clavicle and down into the ribs.

It was just wires and pulleys! That was clever, no electronics, nothing fancy, just some good engineering!

He smiled slightly, wondering who the great designer of that costume was; during the parade the contestants had their identities hidden from the general public, to make voting for Best Costume more fair.

One was allowed to vote for every costume they liked, and at the end of the parade, whoever had accrued the most points would be crowned winner.

Most people just voted for every costume, he knew. But he only voted once for his absolute favorite; sometimes he liked to think that he was the only one who did that, and when they won it was due to his vote alone.

He cast his vote for the ancient skeleton costume, feeling a happier for it.

The errant thought of making his own costume popped into his head. He entertained the idea every Darkeve, but he’d never followed through with it. It was true that no one would know it was him in the costume, and he knew that technically he could make something fantastic.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

But he’d never come up with an actual costume idea worth making. At least, he told himself that, but really the biggest factor was thinking about if he actually won. At the end of the parade he’d have to reveal himself!

What if people were disappointed that they’d voted for Boniface Tred?

Though most probably didn’t even know who he was.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, he turned away from the parade, moving towards a relatively empty area.

A woman nearly bumped into him, offering him a bright smile; she had coated her teeth in a material that turned them into a screen, and they showed a swooping spirit, followed by the words ‘Happy Darkeve’.

He smiled back awkwardly and brushed past her.

Reaching the wall, he leaned on it, turning in on himself. He felt worse than normal. Not sick, just . . . unhappy.

He took a few moments of deep breaths, ignoring the crowd as they oohed and ahhed at different fantastic costumes.

He’d probably get too tired to keep going, if he did make a costume, he thought. One had to walk the circumference of the Craton on the upper equator level, then back down and go on the under level as well! Over six kilometers.

Something caught his attention.

A dozen meters away, through a hole in the crowd, he saw a drone.

It was not just any drone; it was the drone he had made for Ambassador Jophiel.

His heart skipped a beat, realizing that she had come, after all. He took a step forward.

Cenz stepped up next to her, his heavy arm gesturing towards the parade, his electronic face changing expression as he talked to her.

Oh.

Tred froze. Jophiel had come to the parade, yes. Just not with him.

It took his mind several long moments to process that.

With a jerk, he realized he was standing and staring openly; if either Cenz or Jophiel looked his way, they’d see him staring like an idiot.

He forced himself to turn, staggering away, bumping into people, who let out surprised cries.

“Are you all right?” one man asked him.

“I’m fine,” he said.

He was fine. This was not bad. Jophiel had no obligation to go with him to the parade. She did not have to even be honest about it; this was just bad luck that he’d run into them at all. He should never even have known.

But he did, he thought. And despite knowing it was all okay, he felt . . .

Absolutely terrible.