A pale eight-year-old girl with mousy hair and dark eyes stared out of the flat, glossy image—a younger version of herself. And not just her. Beside her, a pudgy little Sam, and her mom, ten years younger, smiled up from a small, worn couch. It was a photo from their apartment in Obrone—a single cramped room—with a round-cheeked Sammy wearing his prosthetics as they waited for regen to take hold.
