Mana touched the ceramaplastic mask, his fingers tracing around the eyeholes, which were shredded, messy pieces of shit. They were twice their normal size, and judging by the looks of things, the holes were rough to the touch. He couldn’t feel anything though, only hear his shell’s clumsy fingers scrape against the jagged cuts.
He sighed, standing up and grabbing a small hand mirror from the shelf above his head, setting it on his knees. No reason putting it off any longer, he thought and looked downward.
He was almost tempted to smash it against the wall, god he hated that too feminine face, with those creepy bug eyes and face covered in hooks but he stayed, picking up the mask with his other hand, attempting to fit it around his shell’s face. The hooks on the back of the mask connected with the hastily attached ones covering his too-smooth face, but the eye holes were once again too small for the bulging visual sensors stuck on his shell’s face.
Mana’s shoulders slumped, and he picked up the microfiber scalpel again, slowly shaving off another layer around the eyes. Then another. Then another. Don’t want to fuck this up with the shell’s stupid shitty dexterity. Don’t break it in half. Madame would kill you.
After some time, he decided to try the damn thing on again, only to have his vision obscured by a few centimeters near the bottom. Mana then grabbed the scalpel again, set on returning to his work.
This would be so much easier if Madame had bothered to get tactile sensors installed on my shell. Actually, everything would be so much easier if she gave me a proper shell, period. None of this Cenayi’atu Corp pleasure shell nonsense. I’m not even asking for wetware here! Just something that I don’t have to spend hours modifying just to not stand out to every sapient in a fifty-mile radius!
A sharp scraping sound jolted him out of his thoughts, and he looked down to notice that he had made a deep cut through the mask, extending down to the upper lip. He jumped up from the metal table he was sitting on and walked into the main room, mask in tow.
He looked at his roommate, Közi, who was sprawled out on the couch in the main room, an extension cord leading from the nape of his neck to a large, buzzing machine in the corner. Mana walked up to him, and with one hand, yanked out the cord.
Közi jerked up, looking at Mana before he got up and snatched the mask out of Mana’s hands, turning it over and over.
He looked Mana dead in the eye. “What gives?”
Mana sighed, making the gesture for pen and paper before Közi walked into the kitchen, beckoning Mana to follow.
The two sat down, Mana grabbing the pen in his fist and starting to write. God, why the fuck does the dexterity of this shell have to be so shitty? Shouldn’t it at least be good enough to give a handjob? That’s what it was built for, right? He finished with his sentence, clumsily picking up the paper and brandishing it towards Közi.
Közi looked at the sentence. “Notice crack?”
He glanced back at the mask, before beginning to process an answer. “I. t. ‘. s. space. n. o. t. space. t. h. a. t. space. v. i. s. (god, why the fuck couldn’t she have installed me with a proper communication program instead of this shit) i. b. l. e. Send.
Mana jerked up from his stupor, oh god you know he’s bored of this shit, grabbing the paper and writing a response.
Közi read the paper again. “Really?”
Y. e. s. Send.
Mana grabbed the other sheet of paper, furiously writing. “You aren’t just saying that to be nice?”
Y. e. s. Send.
Mana made a clumsy thumbs up before picking up the mask and walking back to his room. If Közi says it isn’t that visible, it isn’t that visible. He isn’t just saying that to be nice. He isn’t just saying that to be nice. God, Madame’s going to be so pissed off that I broke the mask.
Meanwhile, Közi walked back to the couch, picking up the cord and sticking it back in his neck, the sudden jolt as he transitioned from realspace to the net almost overwhelming him.
quian56@@@@@lllllllll: hey where are you?
quian56@@@@@lllllllll: are you dead?
quian56@@@@@lllllllll: are you recharging?
quian56@@@@@lllllllll: do robots even do that now?
RedJester890: i wasnt recharging, and im not a robot
Red Jester890: mana asked me something
quian56@@@@@lllllllll: oh, your boyfriend. <3 ;)
RedJester890: we’re not dating
RedJester890: would you shut up about that for one minute
quian56@@@@@lllllllll: chill, i was just joking.
quian56@@@@@lllllllll: but...you know...you seem really intense about this...anything you want to talk about? (...) ;)
RedJester890: SHUT THE FUCK UP ASH
Mana sighed, hooking the mask over the shell’s face before glancing in the mirror. It...actually wasn’t too bad. The ceremaplastics were bone white, and the singular expression looked like he was trying to glare someone to death, but he actually looked like a Terran now, not the villain of an android slasher. He didn’t know what to pass off the crack as. Perhaps a scar, but those were rare.
Yes! Finally! He jumped instinctively before remembering why that was a bad idea as the floor shook beneath him, the cheap microfiber walls groaning at the strain.
Fuck this shit. Uggggggggggg.