You’re selected for becoming a pilot. Not that it’s a choice if you’re compatible. Your parents considered it an honour.

But to you? The end of your life as you know it.

You’re now in the Frame Institution of the EDF, where you’re supposed to bond with the flesh of a machine.

You’re escorted to your frame by a scientist. Before you stands the massive bipedal machine as you climb up the metal steps to enter it. Your uniform sticks to your skin uncomfortably, as your communicator buzzes in your ear. “Pilot. Board your frame for synchronization.”