Internally a storm rages. Fear. Sorrow. Death. Pain. Heartbreak. Hope. Love. Desire. Happiness. All throwing themselves at each other over and over again, in a tireless cage match for supremacy with no time limit and no referee. There is no way to call the match until someone else comes along, takes pity and shuts it down, or the participants kill each other off, one by one. There will be no victor - balance cannot be achieved if all participants do not survive.
Externally, a calmness prevails. All outward appearances are stoic, movements deliberate, interaction minimal. But things are too passive. The Uncanny Valley has been crossed in the opposite direction - that which is human now appears robotic, leading to apprehension, even revulsion, so interaction with humankind is kept at a minimum. The mask covers the truth, but betrays it at the same time, and cannot be trusted.
The fear is that if the mask is lifted, Pandora's Box will open and the battle will spill into the streets; uncontrollable and spreading, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.
So the impasse is met; the delicate balancing act of maintaining inside and out continues.
