The static cleared and a room came into view. Broken glass scattered over the faded varnish of a wooden floor. There was no pain as such, though he felt the dull ache of old wounds as he pushed himself upright.
The light was natural, breaking in through wooden slats covering the windows. This place was old and left for decay. Like him.
He ran his fingers across the front of his screen. No external damage that he could feel, but things weren’t yet in focus. He turned the lower knob beside his eye slowly, staring at a sheet of yellowed wallpaper not yet peeled away. Its edges seemed to melt into nothing before he twisted back and they came into full focus.
Despite the sunlight, it was cold in the room. He pulled his long woolen coat around himself and took a step forward. The sound of crunching glass made him flinch, shoulders drawing together with tension. His boot rose and he looked down. Beside his feet was one of many familiar old sets. It was broken, smashed straight through the centre. A quick death, hopefully painless. The mock wood of the case had caved inwards as it had hit the ground. You don’t bury old technology.
He left the room, taking mind not to step on any more former comrades.
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