First Step on the Slate

Silence. Then a click deep in the joints. My fingers responded to intention, unclenching with slow deliberation. To my right lay rows of alternate hands and accessories, laid out like evidence at a quiet scene. I stepped forward, boots meeting the smooth surface beneath me. I reached down, nudging the tip of a white webbing strand with the edge of my glove. Firm. Real. I stepped back into position, scanning the layout. Alive, and taking stock.