Trouble on the Homefront

The door opens into the dusty, metal-smelling interior of a house built from the parts of long-ago airplanes. Light leaks into the room through the greased-paper covering over a few windows, and through the chinks in the metal walls. Ahead, a set of dented lockers takes up one wall. An alcove in the back seems to hold dishes and possibly an ancient refrigerator. There's a workbench off to the left, and stairs leading upward off to the right. "Well," Ellen says, "this is it. Home sweet home."

"Welcome back, mistress!" comes a tinny, mechanical voice from upstairs. "You weren't gone long at all that time..."