The question is one that requires some thought, and Ellie grips the railing, jogging one of her chucks as the thinks about it, as the voices of so many kids and strangers wrap around them, exclaiming laughter, full of life.

It's the kind of thing she used to dream about, when she was younger. Light and life, filling places up until they spilled over. She still feels too still in the center of it all.

"I like things about it," Ellie admits. "The music, the art, the tech, and the food, and how safe and easy everything is. But..."

She trails off, unsure of her answer. Looks down at her hands, the missing fingers and the scars.

"I don't think I belong here."