In describing our ideals of dignity and the like as fictions, I reflect on and uphold a non-pejorative understanding of fiction and how that stance is abused by power, which is unable to recognize any interiority except its own. To allow for that narrative of inner life, I accept the negative charge of the dialectic I am already thrown into; only then can I author my particularity/interiority and respond to the master enframing scheme which conceals our inner lives. All this movement and recognition of disquiet requires a certain quiet, a nothingness as fictitious and factful as the ideals that will spring forth from it. Not without that reflection can I step into my own being, to take account of where I might be wrong, to truly inhabit and entertain that which fascinates me, and to maintain a metaphysics wherein I am not only other but also open to the call of another. This is a reorientating quiet, an invitation to a creative nihil.