The builders had modeled it on San Francisco and Sydney, or so they’d said when developing the derelict industrial wasteland of Cape Town’s waterfront. And maybe it hadn’t turned out too badly after all. The waterfront was her home, one of the few places in all of the Confederated Azanian Nations where you really weren’t likely to get shot just for being the wrong skin color, religion, or metatype. For Kristen, being half-Xhosa, half-Caucasian, that meant a lot. Down here, all she had to worry about was racial prejudice, and not murderous intent.