Alone she sleeps in the shirt of man
With my three wishes clutched in her hand
The first that she be spared the pain
That comes from a dark and laughing rain
When she finds love, may it always stay true
This I beg for the second wish I made, too
But wish no more; my life you can take
To have her please just one day wake
To have her please
Just one day
--"Gaeta's Lament" (Battlestar Galactica)
And it was from those haunting words that she was conceived. She was little more than a spark, a whisper, the ghost of an idea...but she was there, nonetheless.
It was a long time before her ethereal presence finally took on a solid shape, and longer still before I gave her a face and a name; but at last, she was ready for her test-run.
"Let's go, let's go!" she sang, hopping in place from one foot to the other in happy anticipation. I suddenly felt a small twinge of fear. She was very similar to me, both in looks and in personality. Perhaps too similar. And she wasn't completely finished, either. Did she need more work? Would her presence distort the world I was sending her to? Could I exercise enough control to keep things in their natural order, yet still allow her the freedom she craved?
Was she ready?
"Come on, then!" The hopping turned into impatient bouncing, sending her hair flying up and down like a shower of copper sparks. "Set me free! Oh please, let me go!"
My doubts were swallowed up by delight as I looked at the girl again. Though incomplete, she was a lovely little thing. I had crafted her with love and I cared about her...and really, that was all that mattered.
So I smiled, whispered a blessing over her, and let her go.