"No," I said. "I keep the stories."
"How did you—" the captain started.
I closed my eyes and thought of all the voices nested in that shell: a mother humming, a drunk mechanic swearing poetically, a child holding a token, a trader's oath. The suit had become more than a tool. It was a patchwork community that refused to die when owner-less things were supposed to. livesuit james s a coreyepub repack
"Inventory tag?" I muttered. The tag was gone. I felt like a thief, but on a ship that had stopped sending its crew paychecks, thievery was a vocational upgrade. "No," I said