For just a moment, Tyson’s fingertips dug into the flesh covering her hips. He could feel the soft skin, a layer of toned muscle beneath it tense, and the bone of her pelvis below that. It was all artificial, of course, heat-activated poly-fibrous tensile coils for muscles, printed carbon laminate chassis in place of a skeleton. But it felt completely, convincingly real. The impulse to rip at the plastic film and tear it into confetti like wrapping paper on Christmas morning was very real, and very hard to resist.