'Out west,' she murmured, 'about five hours away by cruiser, there's an island. It's mine. No one goes there, there's a fifty-kilometre exclusion umbrella, satellite patrolled, but it's beautiful. I've built a complex there, with a clone bank and a re-sleeving facility.' Her voice got that uneven edge in it again. 'I sometimes decant the clones. Sleeve copies of myself. To play. Do you understand what I'm offering you?'