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Florence had finished preparing the equipment requested by Prélude. She was all set. She checked that the connection between her laptop and the internet was working properly. Prélude was indeed there. No sooner had she connected to the internet than Prélude’s voice could be heard.

Florence is a young woman, tall and slender. Her long blonde hair resembles the waves formed by the wheat in the fields as the wind blows. And one might think her eyes are emeralds found beneath the two small hills that conceal a gold mine: her heart.