I remember the day my mother brought Jedella home;
I remember all her friends hurrying to our house.
I remember my mother, drunk on power, allowing them
to pass Jedella along from lap to lap.
I remember how each of those women rushed away tight-lipped,
and I knew even then what they were so determined not to say:
"It's not fair! Damn it all, I'm the one who should have been first,
the first to have a cyberdragon of my own! It should have been me!"
I remember my mother letting each one of those women
parade one turn around our livingroom
holding Jedella's pretty little hand.
[That's how they're made, you know. With little hands, like the hands of a child,
on their two front legs.]

I tried everything I could think of to break Jedella,
but I wasn't strong enough -- I was only five.