The disappearance of the hood earns a bright smile from Aeon: it reminds her a little of Sithandra and the way her former partner used to keep her own head covered. For the Monicans, it had been for safety, so no one could grab their hair and use it against them in a fight. Aeon had never bothered – if someone grabbed her hair, she just took a little pleasure in the moment and then kicked their ass for not asking first.

“A pretty name for someone just as pretty,” she said. “But no, I haven’t been here very long at all. Have you touched the little round device by the fountain, the one everyone here calls a datapoint?”