Saturday takes this in, processes it, and nods grimly. "So. Assume they ain't friendly unless they tell you real clear that they are, an' prove it."

She tilts her head, a thought occurring to her. "Does anything new come out of the Stuff? Like - new people, who are actually people, who can be reasoned with? Or... like what is the deal, there? An' does Jorg actually understand the Stuff is reaching across realities?"

Another thought occurrs to her, and she goes a little pale. "Unless, shit, we're the thing made by the Stuff an' we're reflecting other people's thoughts and ideas - Fuck, is that why Jorg - ?"

Saturday is staring down the barrel of a minor existential crisis and she doesn't like it.