Every winter as the snow begins to melt away, all citizens marking their sixteenth year in the Society must stand before the Council of Leaders and be presented with the Picture. Based on what answer you give them, you must go to live in one of two districts: Halcyon or Marine. I grew up with my family in Marine, which isn’t so bad if you don’t mind living in abject poverty. Halcyon’s foremost Leader, Chancellor Auric Bone, wins the council’s highest seat every year in the election and gives his district better access to our ambiguously limited supply of resources. It’s a cruel injustice, but that’s the way the world is, so we all have to live with it and not question anything—at least, that’s what my mother used to tell me before she died under mysterious circumstances.