I’m always shaking my imaginary fists at imaginary foes. The first man on Mars keeps seeing menacing faces in corners and shadows. I can’t rest, and I can’t relax because my armor clanks and squeaks when the sun goes down. I’ll bleed-out on you as you bleed-out to the sky despite my best efforts. The MOTHbot is a timid creature on a dangerous mission. I’m always fighting in my own head, and I’m always losing.