On the streets of an alien world he walked. A cloak wrapped tightly around his form like a shield against the primitive eyes of its inhabitants. The aliens he walked past. Skinny, brittle, could easily be snapped like a twig.
Even those that had augmented their weak flesh with machinery were using material he used to bend for strength training as an infant in his crèche. Not only were the alien inhabitants flimsily weak, but their structures were laughable. Made up of glass and a composite material? Where was the structural integrity?
Even forgoing the structural integrity, the mere shape of the buildings was an abomination. Simple squares, the shape for war forts, not homes. Where was the creative liberty? Where were the awe inspiring towers and pillars? The artistic integrity of the species?
