Ellis Beckett (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} like_the_island) wrote,@ 2007-09-16 14:32:00 |
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Welcome to the Hive
You are not alone.
If nothing else, know this.
There are others like you, others who have walked through the same fires and come out mostly whole and sane. You may be angry—we’re angry too. We’re angry at what has been done to us, both frightened and awed by what we have become. We’re confused, and we’re tired, and we’re not sure who to blame.
But we are not alone.
We all once stood where you now stand, or lie, or slump. Somehow, one way or another, we’ve all overcome that initial torrent of despair. None of it is easy, but we agree that the beginning was the hardest: that period when we didn’t know what was happening to us, or what to expect. We were afraid of the changes coming over our own bodies, helpless to turn back the tide of deformity creeping over our skin. Some of us felt our own fingers shrivel off; others woke to the scent of our own charred flesh. We dreaded that these changes might stop and leave us suspended in these misshapen states, stripped down to the essence of human fragility, yet inhumanly strong at the same time—but even more, we were terrified that the disfiguration would continue into our minds, until we became like the things we saw on the streets, empty husks of their past lives, unable to be called human or even sentient any longer. There was a desperation within us, as we realized we no longer even recognized our own reflections from day to day, alien shapes drawn foggy and grotesque from the depths of our mirrors. Something terrible was happening to us, within us, but part of us wondered if maybe it was our own fault, if we were too weak, if we were being punished. We didn’t know where to turn, if there was anywhere we could turn—we didn't know if we even deserved to be saved.
Then we came to the Hive.
My name is Ellis Beckett, and on behalf of all the residents of the Hive, I offer you our sympathy and reassurance.
There is an explanation for what is happening to you: you have been infected with the T-Virus. The fact you are reading this means that you still maintain your sound mind; you are to be commended, for you have managed to resist the virus’s ravages completely. Be on your guard, however, for you are still at risk. If you suffer further exposure to the virus, whether through injection or ingestion, you risk madness and the loss of yourself.
On the other hand, you have fought hard not to succumb completely to the virus's effects so far, and because of that, I offer you a place in the Hive.
I offer the safety and comfort of a home with others who understand. I offer the protection of our militia against the ignorance of those who do not. Everyone who is willing can find some work to do here, and strangely enough, everyone is always willing, or always becomes willing, upon settling in.
There is a tradeoff. The golden rule of economics says something about a lack of free lunches (and lunches, by the way, is another subject I will bring up shortly). As long as you remain in the Hive, you will abide by my rules. You are of course welcome to take up audience any time with Dee, my enforcer, if you have any complaints, and if my law truly proves too onerous, you are free to leave at any time.
The rules are simple, and they all have to do with eating. Such as we are, eating does tend to be our main concern.
First, we do not attack one other, here in the Hive. If you refuse to coexist peacefully, we will put you down.
Second, we do not eat infected meat. If you lose your mental facilities completely to the virus, we will put you down.
Finally, all members of the Hive respect the eating habits of their neighbors. We all know the agonizing burn of hunger, but some of us choose to fight it. Members of the Hive adhere to all manner of different diets, ranging from strictly vegan meals to live humans, still squirming and begging. We don’t pass judgment here, as we don’t claim to know the right choice, only the personal decision. We do have an excellent cook who can accommodate the trickiest of palates. Just ask for a kosher meal if you’re not quite reconciled to your body’s new demands—he’ll know what you mean.
If you are interested in joining the Hive, you will shortly be contacted by my second-in-command. He goes by the name of Markers, but please: leave the obvious question unasked.
You are not alone.
If nothing else, know this.
There are others like you, others who have walked through the same fires and come out mostly whole and sane. You may be angry—we’re angry too. We’re angry at what has been done to us, both frightened and awed by what we have become. We’re confused, and we’re tired, and we’re not sure who to blame.
But we are not alone.
We all once stood where you now stand, or lie, or slump. Somehow, one way or another, we’ve all overcome that initial torrent of despair. None of it is easy, but we agree that the beginning was the hardest: that period when we didn’t know what was happening to us, or what to expect. We were afraid of the changes coming over our own bodies, helpless to turn back the tide of deformity creeping over our skin. Some of us felt our own fingers shrivel off; others woke to the scent of our own charred flesh. We dreaded that these changes might stop and leave us suspended in these misshapen states, stripped down to the essence of human fragility, yet inhumanly strong at the same time—but even more, we were terrified that the disfiguration would continue into our minds, until we became like the things we saw on the streets, empty husks of their past lives, unable to be called human or even sentient any longer. There was a desperation within us, as we realized we no longer even recognized our own reflections from day to day, alien shapes drawn foggy and grotesque from the depths of our mirrors. Something terrible was happening to us, within us, but part of us wondered if maybe it was our own fault, if we were too weak, if we were being punished. We didn’t know where to turn, if there was anywhere we could turn—we didn't know if we even deserved to be saved.
Then we came to the Hive.
My name is Ellis Beckett, and on behalf of all the residents of the Hive, I offer you our sympathy and reassurance.
There is an explanation for what is happening to you: you have been infected with the T-Virus. The fact you are reading this means that you still maintain your sound mind; you are to be commended, for you have managed to resist the virus’s ravages completely. Be on your guard, however, for you are still at risk. If you suffer further exposure to the virus, whether through injection or ingestion, you risk madness and the loss of yourself.
On the other hand, you have fought hard not to succumb completely to the virus's effects so far, and because of that, I offer you a place in the Hive.
I offer the safety and comfort of a home with others who understand. I offer the protection of our militia against the ignorance of those who do not. Everyone who is willing can find some work to do here, and strangely enough, everyone is always willing, or always becomes willing, upon settling in.
There is a tradeoff. The golden rule of economics says something about a lack of free lunches (and lunches, by the way, is another subject I will bring up shortly). As long as you remain in the Hive, you will abide by my rules. You are of course welcome to take up audience any time with Dee, my enforcer, if you have any complaints, and if my law truly proves too onerous, you are free to leave at any time.
The rules are simple, and they all have to do with eating. Such as we are, eating does tend to be our main concern.
First, we do not attack one other, here in the Hive. If you refuse to coexist peacefully, we will put you down.
Second, we do not eat infected meat. If you lose your mental facilities completely to the virus, we will put you down.
Finally, all members of the Hive respect the eating habits of their neighbors. We all know the agonizing burn of hunger, but some of us choose to fight it. Members of the Hive adhere to all manner of different diets, ranging from strictly vegan meals to live humans, still squirming and begging. We don’t pass judgment here, as we don’t claim to know the right choice, only the personal decision. We do have an excellent cook who can accommodate the trickiest of palates. Just ask for a kosher meal if you’re not quite reconciled to your body’s new demands—he’ll know what you mean.
If you are interested in joining the Hive, you will shortly be contacted by my second-in-command. He goes by the name of Markers, but please: leave the obvious question unasked.
