Unlike many Smiths at Star City, who created androids to be docile servants, Ichafore believed that the minds that went into his creations were just as important; he spent just as much time, if not more, working out the personality quirks that went into his creations.

That was why he believed he'd been chosen last night, at the trade banquet, to take his Masters. At twenty-six, he was one of the youngest Journeymen in his field to be approached for such an honor. There were perhaps half a dozen Masters of the AL Smithing trade in all of the space-dock city, to be one of them... it had been Ichafore's dream since he first entered into Apprenticeship under the venerable Master Larsin.

He still couldn't quite believe that he had been chosen, even if he'd suspected for some time. The Masters exam required that he build an artificial life form that displayed life-like behaviourisms and was sentient. That would be the easy part... the difficult part required that this form was to have enough mental stamina and support to bond to, and keep a dragon.

While Ichafore was confident that he could create a form that filled the first two requirements, the last caused him great anxiety, and had since he'd first heard of the exam when he passed into the Journeyman level. To create a creature that would ultimately decide the fate of another... it was something to think about.

Ichafore had been thinking about it. He'd been thinking about it since last night, hadn't slept a wink because of all of the thinking he was doing. 'A thoughtful Smith brings to life a creature which provokes thought,' Larsin had said. It was true, in a way.

Now the Journeyman was leaning over a counter, perched on a stool in the back of the shop. At the moment, there was only one other Smith in the shop, and he was currently out front, discussing AI chips or something with a customer. The back of the shop was a landfill of wires and metal sheets, vats of synthetic skin and other organs, of Cyborware tack-ons and half-finished bodies, of modeling computers and holographic printers. It was a place of utter chaos, and it was Ichafore's home. His gaze was fixed on his current creation: a nearly complete human body that, for all intents and purposes, looked like a real woman, lying asleep on the cold metal table. She was a small thing; she'd be standing at five feet when she did stand, and her frame was not quite skinny... more lean then anything. Her skin was nut-brown--just a shade darker then many of the Driolo humans who Ichafore had seen coming up to the station. Her hair, which for the most part was a slightly darker brown from her skin, was knotted tightly (the knots created by his own hands, not prefab), and the tips were foiled with pewter-like metal. She'd be beautiful when she was 'awake'... all that she needed was a mind.

Ichafore toyed with the little chip he'd been working on for over six-months (a long time in his trade). It wasn't the androids entire personality, but it was the 'spark' that would get her going. If it were installed improperly, it could fry her central nervous system, or if it didn't do that, it could cause other unforeseen events in the future...

He stood, the chip in his gloved hand, and swallowed his own nervousness. He was exhausted, which in a way was a god thing: when he was in this state of half-asleep awareness, he usually produced his best creations. He approached the table, leaned over the android for a moment, then brushed her lip with one finger. "No time like the present, hmm?" Reaching under her hair, just behind his temple, Ichafore tapped at the release mechanism, and got to work.