"I am not," Sonia says flatly, crossing her arms defensively over her chest, "giving them my parole. I have no desire to walk around and be gawked at, or have more horseshit propaganda dumped on me, or to have the ghem pretending to be polite at me."

She'll go mad in here, no doubt, but maybe madness is preferable. She's curious about the outsiders, yes, and -- Micah, the scientist is here, aren't they -- but somehow admitting it to Byerly seems like a self-betrayal. She totters back away from him, sitting back down on her cot hard, arms wrapped around herself. She feels suddenly very small and alone.