She studied her hands. Her right was human, her left artificial—the fake skin bright pink like car paint. She fought to remember what Xavi had said, that this hand represented who she was, the sacrifices made while becoming human. Was her new hand ready yet? Sitting in a jar in the Hymann Boutique? Was she ready to jettison that? And what about her brother Paul? He was family; accept this and she could get Takamatsu to release him, find him a job. Wasn’t that what she always wanted? For him not to suffer the life she had?