You fall into a deep sleep. In your dream a beautiful woman visits you. Though faded and ghostly, she appears to be familiar. She recounts a tale of tragedy and loss:

“My name is Natasha Vinogradov,” she begins. “This was once my home . . . ”

“I grew up in the family of a faithful and humble blacksmith. The land in our village was fertile, and for many years our lives flourished.”

“Then, tragedy struck. A wicked witch, who hated all good things, cursed the land. Our crops withered into dust. The land became barren. We wandered like ghosts in a vast wasteland. Powerless against the witch’s evil magic, many died of starvation, including myself . . . ”

“Heartbroken, my father devised a plan. He devoted himself to the study of philosophy and the mechanical arts, and soon enough he became a master inventor. In five years’ time he built an army of giant robots to storm the witch’s tower.

Many of the robots were modeled after my sisters — they too were victims of the drought. However, the leader of the robot army, dubbed “Natasha,” was modelled after me. It was a huge machine, many hundreds of feet tall. You may have caught a glimpse of it on yonder horizon . . . ”

“Sadly, the witch had only grown stronger over the years. On the appointed day, when my father’s robots stormed her tower, she cast a spell on them, causing them to freeze. Unable to move, the robots stood paralyzed in the blighted land. They now lie rusting in a graveyard of derelicts not far from here . . . ”

“Natasha, however, was my father’s most powerful robot, and she resisted the witch’s magic. She defeated the witch and toppled her tower.”

“Sadly, my tale does not end here. As a parting shot, the witch focused all of her diabolical powers on the heart of Natasha, causing it to malfunction.  . . . ”

“For years, my father tried to restore Natasha’s robotic heart, but he could not. In time, he succumbed to old age. Shortly before he died, he buried the heart under a tree with five branches (since I was born on a Thursday, the number five was dear to my father’s heart)  . . . ”

“You, too, had witnessed all of this — but the witch had erased everyone’s memory, hoping that all would be forgotten. But I can see that my words are bringing your memories back to life. You remember now, don’t you? I want to tell you that there is still hope! The witch shall not prevail  . . . ”

Now that you know what has transpired, I will allow you to enter Natasha’s chest. Retrieve the heart, and place it within her. Then, Natasha will move again. Through her body my spirit will bring fertility and hope back to the land. Fare thee well, brave one. ”