Instead, I marveled at the gold piping on one, or the crystal-dark displays on another, which flickered tantalizingly with iridescence when I angled a tentacle-gripper toward the light, or the way visors dimmed and brightened in response to my presence. Later I learned something of their construction, and ways to repair them, but when I was a child none of this interested me. A few might fit you when you reach your adult phase. They came in all shapes and sizes, and numbers of limbs, and some of them accommodated a head (or heads) and some of them didn’t. I was, however, allowed to poke around the storerooms where she kept the suits in pristine condition should anyone ever need them. She said I was too young, too fragile, and apt to forget even the simple principles of inertia and momentum. I was not allowed outside, even if we had had a proper suit that fit me rather than the all-purpose protective mesh I used. It was composed of spun metal and sibilant nanoparticles. In this debut collection of short fiction from one of science fiction and fantasy's most notable new writers, Yoon Ha Lee often integrates tropes of science fiction with elements of myth to create tales that are both wonderfully fresh and deeply ancient. My mother was the keeper of the fortress at the center of the universe, where we are headed now.
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