I sit there, nervously checking my e-mail for more information on this "Tengu" Exile and other references made to Japanese culture that The Digger suggested I follow in order to remove my burden- this blasted piece of silk and steel called, affectionately, "The Katana". Using a front as a legitimate exchange student at Stratford Campus taking a course on East Asian Studies, I had hoped to gather sufficient information from Redpills and Bluepills alike. After all, who wouldn't want to help some young gullible student from a fictitious Eastern European country who was stuck in a research rut? Apparently, quite a few. There had been only one reply and it had only skimmed the surface of my problem and told me little I did not already know. Go figures.
Hm? Who am I? Austrian, of course! Verdammte blöd... sorry. My nerves have been playing on me. They have been for a while. The sister ship to mine, "The Vertigo of Bliss" is under quarantine. The entire crew seems to be infected by a serious case of the so-called "Tunnel Flu". You see... the Tunnels of The Real are not exactly a hygienic place. Many of them were, or are, sewage pipes where excess body fluids and human waste once flowed. Even if they are no longer used by The Machines as a place to dump dead humans and other such disgusting matter, the bacteria that congregated to decompose the waste still linger there and, as they always have, multiply and evolve at a startling rate. So when one goes on a salvage operation to cannibalize the parts and components of a Zion Hovercraft abandoned during The War, one has to be careful not to step in anything. I guess Wixard was in a hurry. She slipped and caught something nasty from falling in a small pool of still water that had gathered from Gott in Himmel knows what.
So now half of my troops, all of them good friends, are suffering from the worst case of flu you have ever seen. DarkenedLies figured one of our stock vaccines would work and injected everyone on his vessel with it. I'm afraid it might have been too late for him and Wixard. Schiesse, I'm afraid it might be too late for all of them. I've lost only two people under my command. I pride myself on that. Nearly two years since my Awakening and yet only two friends lost. That's a better batting average than even Morpheus, nicht wahr? And people say he was a great leader!
Anyway, here I sit: in a chair on a quietly thrumming ship, The Hapsburg. My crew is depressed and in poor spirits. My other crew is dying of a seemingly untreatable illness from the depths of Hölle. And I am unable to acquire assistance in destroying a rare artifact from a prior iteration of The Matrix that no one, and I mean no one, should possess. Got all that? Heh. An inspiring tale, I know.
But it gets better. It's a long and hard story. One that tells you a great deal about the nature of Sentients- Human, Exile, Program, whatever. And it's a story that changes my life. Forever.
((Feel free to post in reply here. This will be the lead-in to a much overdue Event that will begin unfolding in the near future. Should you have any questions about how you might contribute, just what the heck is going on, etc. you can PM me, ask OOC here, reach me on XFire, harrass me in-game, or e-mail me. Have fun =D))