Not Stella. Not the digitally infamous Diana Hunter, either, of course; the game heroine who always has one more trick up her sleeve. Stella is a mask trying to make itself real. A bed stitching itself a quilt. I wonder if all minds build themselves autonomously out of whatever rags and bones are left lying around, and she—her original being erased or broken—is just doing what we all do, a little late renewal in her own skull. It seems arrogant to disparage her.