In space, everything breaks, and nothing works. That sounds redundant, but in reality, understanding the difference between those two ideas is what truly distinguishes a true Spacegineer from an idiot with a wrench.
I have a theory... maybe.
Take my space suit. Before I exited that airlock back there, I was confident it would be the most important thing I needed out here today. The outer layer was hole free, the inner layer was clean. Air tank attached properly, claw boots sharp and magnetized, glove tread ripe and friction-y. I could see my lovely face in the visor, buffed to a crystal clear, translucent shine.
But there's no friggin' tool belt loops on any of these suits. So, if I forget my personal tool belt, shut up, then there's no built in reminder on the suit itself to help me realize that it's not there. I have to float fifteen thousand meters, which takes soooo suuuper long, you guys, attach to the broken shield generator, and reach for a tool. Only then is the black emptiness of space replaced by the black emptiness of my toolbeltless waist!
My daddy once told me something about being dyslexic, back when I was a little tyke. Something I'll never forget. He said. "Betty! Stop being dyslexic!" I try to live by that mantra every day, struggling against a dumb brain what learns too slow and remembers too much. I can tell you every thing I've ever fixed, how I fixed it, and what part of my body was damaged in the process. But right now, in this moment, I have no idea what to freaking do.
Guess I'll wing it.
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