A Voice in the Hollow

I set the salvaged soundbox directly into the open cavity of the mechanical torso. My rigid plastic claw pressed the metal casing deep between the two iron struts until the brackets engaged with a coarse, resolute snap. Stripping the frayed wire ends with the edge of a rusty gear, I looped the exposed copper around the trigger switch near the jaw. A deliberate tap of my finger brought a low, distorted chime stuttering through the fiberglass mouth. It resonated across the hollow ribcage with chilling clarity. Everything aligns with cold, relentless precision.