He stands rigid, stitched in silence, a wool-skinned satellite locked in orbit around himself. The face—sharp, blue, immaculate—broadcasts control while the inner circuits twitch like rats in a shoebox. Vertical scars of data drip down his skull, proof he’s been uploading compliance for years. Red threads twitch at the shoulder, like the body wants to scream but the firmware won’t allow it. There’s no malfunction—just a man perfectly programmed to mistake numbness for nobility.
