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for the world to be re-scripted. But for the fact that the human body of Penelope was encased in a headset and was physically moving her fingers in her world through the various menus that allowed access to the deepest levels of Edda, she would not be able to create new matter and alter its properties.
    Ambassador speculated, a little enviously, on what it must be like to have such an ability. To have access to all the coding of Edda was to be a god. Princess had the ability to alter the very fundamentals of the world. The sun itself could burn blue or green instead of yellow, should she wish it. Or so she said. Not that her power was limitless. Magic items, for example, had so far proven to be beyond her scripting skills. Also, there had been a time when Penelope had attempted to create friends for herself. The experiments had ended in frustration and with a room full of fairies, ballerinas, princesses, and multicolored furry animals. They could all walk and talk; they could all carry out a variety of tasks; but not with the independence of thought that Penelope had striven for.
    Having killed all his rivals, Lord Scanthax was the only remaining self-conscious being in Edda, and he refused to let Penelope examine his coding, or that of any of his manifestations. Ordinary units, such as farmers and soldiers, Penelope had studied in depth, and she could reproduce those with a few days’ work. If she had succeeded in creating consciousness, perhaps she could have re-scripted Ambassador so that his will was independent from that of Lord Scanthax. Did he desire such a thing? It was a shocking thought, and immediately Ambassador turned his attention back to the worktable.
    In the brief time it had taken to arrive at the thought of having complete autonomy and to shy away from such a disloyal notion, Princess had already created an exact copy of the physical shape of the gun. This seemed very encouraging to Ambassador, who seated himself on a stool, feeling occasional tremors of excitement run through his body. All today’s earlier misfortunes would be forgotten and Lord Scanthax would be very pleased indeed if Ambassador came to him later to announce progress on the new weapon.
    Amongst the various implements and devices on the table was an old weighing scale, the sort with two pans hanging by chains from a levered arm. The captured gun was resting in one pan and from time to time Princess placed her new construction in the other. At first, hers was too light. But after several attempts, where she seemed only to be touching her new creation with the tip of a wand, the scales began to tip. One more slight adjustment and they were balanced.
    “Oh, well done, Princess.” Ambassador gave her a glowing smile. And although she smiled back, she shook her head.
    “When I change some of its other properties, I’ll probably lose control over its density again. But it’s a place to start. I’m coming at this by a series of approximations. There will be a lot of frustration and trying to put square pegs in round holes before we are done.”
    Beaming now, Ambassador gave a slight chuckle, conveying his absolute confidence in her skills. And why not? He had seen her grow up and become more and more accomplished with every year. The little girl—whose avatar back then had been a fairy princess complete with wings—had been pathetically eager to please and perhaps that desire for Lord Scanthax’s approval had not entirely dissipated with age.
    As though thinking along similar lines, Princess looked up from her work. “Ambassador, do you like me?”
    “Like you?” he repeated thoughtfully.
    “Yes. Do you like me—Penelope?”
    “I’m sure I do. It’s just that the phrase might mean something different to a human than to an autonomous manifestation of Lord Scanthax.”
    A flicker of a smile appeared on her lips, reassuring him that he had not spoken amiss.
    “Let me put it differently.” Her head was tipped, focused on the