The door (http://wvs.topleftpixel.com/photos/ny_metal_door_soho_102.jpg) to Wyn's headspace appears to be made of fragments of a coppery metal welded together in no discernable pattern or order, and the inside is no less chaotic. Books, papers, mugs of long-cold coffee, and household appliances in various states of disrepair cover every available flat surface and litter the stone floor. The walls are covered with snippets of scrawling writing in languages that are almost incomprehensible, although some of them are smudged beyond legibility.

Wyn is seated cross-legged in an overstuffed armchair in the center of the room, balancing what looks like a slightly smaller, much more battered omnicom in her lap. Her headphones (http://images.actionvillage.com/inc/images/large/195-390-0114.jpg?qlt=100&cell=244,300&cvt=jpg) are blaring music, so there's no guarantee that she'll notice anyone's approach.