Deep dive // fiction

Maintenance Rites

Every dawn, the armor comes home. Every dawn, the rites. Never skipped.

The rites begin when the patrol ends: the armor ducks into the Gantry — Wrench rebuilt the door frame twice to fit it — and stands on the service marks while Wrench works. Washdown first: the flood leaves silt in every joint, and silt kills hydraulics. Then the actuator check, joint by joint, Wrench listening with a mechanic's ear — she claims she can hear a bad actuator from three blocks away, and the logs back her up.

Then the star count. Pip's chalk stars get tallied — 300+ and climbing — and the new ones get sealed under clear coat so the rain can't take them. “The stars are structural now,” Wrench says, only half joking. “You take them off, the whole suit gets sad.”

The order of the rites

1. Washdown — silt out, joints clear.
2. Actuator check — every joint, every time.
3. Visor polish — the city's face must be clean.
4. Star count — tally, seal, record.
5. Standby — visor dimmed, listening, until dusk.

“THE STARS ARE STRUCTURAL NOW.” — WRENCH

Source notes

• Original fiction; the rites are story canon.