Vlad was running his hand over and over the drive’s rusty surface. Beneath his polishing strokes, a faint gleam of silver had appeared. He frowned mightily. "Nikita, we must never forget that this is no soulless machine. I’m convinced that it takes its form from what we make of it. It’s a frozen idea—that’s its true essence. And if you and I forget it, or look aside, it might just vanish."