A spacesuit that just gets bigger and bigger and bigger after you put it on. At first you are sort of seduced by the power it gives you to act upon the actual universe, what with its ever expanding battery of big guns and missile launchers. But eventually the suit itself becomes the exterior universe relative to your own, increasingly small, role in its physical presence and operation.
Pretty soon it takes half a day to crawl through the ductwork from what used to be your helmet, but is now more of a tight control room, to the machinery controlling your energy pistol. When you get there you can’t remember why you were going in the first place: some exigency of an outside world which seems ever more remote. The automated systems of the suit can handle those conflicts, whose terms and ambitions now seem ambiguous at best.
The suit keeps getting bigger until it has its own strange ecology. It used to be tight and uncomfortable but now the interior is vast. And in that vastness, the technological immediacy of the spaces has receded, literally. Just big empty spaces like empty warehouses or abstract artistic installations in whose largest dimensions one can just barely make out what (used to be, lets be honest) a thing you used to call the air recirculator.
Its much too big for one person.