Empty Suit

Powerless and with a distant sadness; an empty exosuit with its dangling biometric connectors and limp myomuscles. A hollow shell that only lived when something living was inside; a parasite of a machine that was all enhancement and no detriment. But how he hated to see it so, in its inert state. A thing so useful rendered so useless-looking, and strung up with rude inelegance like some ordinary article of clothing.

A bathrobe on a hook had more dignity.


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