She is dressed oddly, the girl who greets me, though it only takes me a moment to realize the hand she extends toward me isn't sheathed in some kind of glove, but is, in fact, made of metal, a thin line of green pulsing its way through cracks and crevasses in the cybernetic skin. Her eyes, the palest green I've ever seen, are quiet and full of welcome.

But when she smiles at me, the touch of her gentle and kind, I know there is nothing for me to fear. As if to confirm my ...