They looked at her, and only saw a human.

Marianella slumped back on the bench and looked up at the top of the dome. A maintenance drone slipped past, a dark pinpoint against the white background. She closed her eyes. She knew she shouldn’t—some voice was whispering to her that it was dangerous. Not just some voice. Her voice, her computer voice. The mechanical part of her brain that controlled the human part. Don’t fall asleep, it said in an indolent whine. If you fall asleep, they’ll never be able to repair you.

Marianella forced her eyes open. The air was so still here. No trees, no plants, no wind. Hardly any heat. What did robots need with any of those things?

She missed the agricultural dome. She missed the soft rustling wheat surrounding her house.

“Marianella?”

The voice jarred her. She jerked up, her head spinning, and it took a moment for her senses to slow down and her brain to catch up. A man was staring at her. Tall and lanky and handsome.

No, not a man. Luciano.

“What are you doing here? Do you need assistance?” He sat down beside her, his movements as assured and graceful as always. “Have you incurred some sort of damage?”

“Maybe.” Marianella rubbed her head. The computer voice had died away, replaced by a faint buzzing in the back of her brain. Electronic feedback. She didn’t think that was a good sign. “I had—oh, Luciano, I had something terrible happen to me, and I did something so, so stupid—”

The world uprooted itself, and Marianella was lying back, Luciano’s arms around her shoulders. She looked up at him.

“You need to see Araceli,” he said. “I’m concerned about you.”

The buzzing was so loud, she couldn’t hear him, but she saw his lips move, and that was how she knew what he was saying.

“Can you walk?”

“I don’t think so.”

Had she answered? She wasn’t certain. No, no, it appeared she had—Luciano had slipped his arms under her knees and was lifting her up. She felt weightless. Like snow.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Luciano said. “I’m very concerned.”

He was always concerned. They had programmed him that way, sixty years ago.

The world went white.

*  *  *  *

“She’s coming back.”

“The system restart just blinked on.”

“Good, good. That was close. It was good you found her.”

“Yes, I agree.”

Marianella saw only light, as if she were staring into the snow or the floodlamps. At least the buzzing was gone.

“Araceli?” Her voice ricocheted around her head, thrumming with feedback. “Inéz? Luciano?”

“We’re here, love.” Araceli’s voice was smooth, comforting. “Try not to think about anything.”

Marianella’s head filled with images: Hector and Ignacio and the agricultural domes and Our Lady of the Ice and Eliana and the estate where she grew up. Such a human response. She tried to force the thoughts down, but the minute one disappeared, another replaced it.

“We’re almost done repairing your hardwiring, and then I’ll reconnect your optics—your eyesight. How does that sound?”

“Good.” Her voice didn’t thrum as much this time. Marianella’s system was a complicated one, more complicated than most cyborgs. Every part of her human body was reinforced by a complex system of tiny machines, powered by the clean-burning atomic energy her father had developed. It was all designed to make her more, to bring the human body itself into the second half of the twentieth century and beyond, into the unimaginable new millennium. The reality was that now her human body couldn’t survive without those machines.

She was aware of Araceli leaning over her even though she still couldn’t see her; it was the human warmth of her blood and skin. Marianella wanted to reach up and touch her, but she couldn’t move her hand. She couldn’t move anything.

“Just a few seconds more—there.”

The world flooded back into focus. Overhead was a high vaulted metal ceiling and rows of bright lights and bits of glittering golden dust. Araceli would hate knowing there was dust anywhere in her workshop, so Marianella didn’t say anything.

“Is everything working all right?” Inéz asked. She stood next to Araceli, her hand stretched out in Marianella’s direction. Monitoring her progress. “Can you see?”

“I can see fine.” Marianella sat up. Her muscles ached and she was in her underwear—Araceli must have stripped her down to get to her wiring. “You didn’t cut my clothes away, did you?”

“Of course not.” Araceli stepped up to the table, holding Eliana’s sweater and trousers. Like the amusement park, she hadn’t changed much in those three years. Still tall and broadly built. The last few dark streaks in her hair had been subsumed by silver. “What the hell happened to you? What have you been doing out in the city?”

“She wasn’t in the city. She was outside the dome. Weren’t you?”

Luciano. He was tucked away discreetly to the side, half-shrouded in shadow. He didn’t like being the center of attention.

“What were you doing outside?” Araceli asked. “Was this an ag dome thing?”

Marianella nodded without thinking.

Araceli bustled away from the table, over to Inéz, who dropped her hand. Araceli chattered over her shoulder. “You’re going to need to stay here for at least a few hours,” she said. “I’ll get you some food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Too bad. Your body needs it to start repairing the connections. Luciano, do you mind sticking around while Inéz and I run to the house? In case something goes wrong.”

“No, I don’t.”

The door to the workshop slammed shut, echoing in the empty space. It was the same workshop where engineers had programmed and repaired robots for the amusement park four decades ago, everything dull metal and enormous, steam-powered computers.

Marianella dressed. The exertion made her dizzy.

“Careful,” Luciano said, sliding up to her and putting one hand on her arm.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, even though the room whipped around. She sat on the table. “Perfectly fine.”

Silence settled into the workshop. Marianella took deep breaths, and the rhythm of her chest soothed her. An assistant to her father had taught her that trick, shortly after her father had converted her. It was meant to calm her down, but in reality it was a reminder that she was human, at least in part.

“I alerted Sofia to your arrival,” Luciano said.

Another deep breath. “I assumed the maintenance drones would have done that the moment I came up from the train platform. And I know the performer ’bots saw me.”

“They all did. I confirmed it.”

Marianella looked over at a pile of unrecognizable parts, twists of wire and bits of metal. She wondered if they’d come from her.

“She’d like to see you.”

Marianella hesitated. “I haven’t spoken to her in months.”

Luciano didn’t respond.

“She was—unkind—the last time I saw her.”

“I know.” Luciano sat on the table beside her. He lacked Araceli’s warmth but not her presence. “I am sorry about that.”

Always apologizing for things that weren’t his fault.

“I guess I can’t say no,” Marianella said.

“She’s upset about what happened.” Luciano looked at her as he spoke. “It wasn’t really because of the agricultural dome, was it?”

Marianella didn’t know how to answer. Before she could decide, the workshop door clanged open. It wasn’t Araceli. It was Sofia.

“Oh, Luciano,” Marianella said, suddenly tired. “You could have at least warned me.”

“I’m sorry. She insisted.”

Sofia glided into the room, a familiar sway in her hips. That sway ignited an old tremor of desire in Marianella’s chest that felt like loss.

“What happened?” Sofia stopped a few paces from the worktable. She wore a thin, worn-out housedress and no shoes, and her hair was knotted at the back of her neck. But she was still beautiful.