[ Correct, she was taught close to nothing. If Geralt ever spends more than about ten minutes with Lloyd, he will immediately understand the disadvantage that Julie had in becoming acquainted with the Horizon. Bringing her in was the first time Lloyd had come back himself, to the point that he was changing things in his domain even as they made their way to each other from opposite sides of the room. It was the first time he was seeing it all with eyes that knew what it should look like.

The stitch between her eyebrows deepens, as this thought has literally never occurred to her. She is, vaguely, aware that they can manifest things without trying, but she did not believe people to be included -- only objects and possibly animals (Lloyd has some weird nightmare bunnies that she turns tame without trying whenever she gets close). There is a long pause where she obviously starts and stops several thoughts before they ever leave her mouth, and then she finally settles on: ]

Well, I don't know what they're doin' there. [ Which is a lie, now that she understands what's happening. She knows damn well that she's terrified to be alone now, that she's not haunted by the pestilence and death that she comes from. Only the loneliness. ] But it don't seem right to just... wish 'em away or whatever. This whole place, it's connected to the Singularity, right? If we hurt part of it, is it the same as hurtin' the Singularity itself?

[ She curls into a tighter ball in her chair, downs a large gulp of vodka as she looks into the distance. They can't see it from here, but she knows that the monolith lurks in the center of it all. Julie doesn't like the Singularity very much. Even if it's all Flagg wants, it still makes her stomach clench to think of it, to know that she's tethered to it. ]

And if these people are right, maybe we shouldn't be hurtin' it.