Children of the Omnissiah

[+++NOOSPHERIC ENCRYPTION PRESENT, SUBMIT MINDPRINT+++]
[+++PROCESSING+++]
[+++MINDPRINT ACCEPTED+++]

 
{Welcome, Ilias}
 
Salutations, unknown listener or listeners. I once again find myself turning to the methods of record to sate my inner monologues. It has been some weeks since my previous entry, and in the time since then, I have settled in to my posting as Biologis-in-Chief of this House of Conversion. In that time, I have come to know my compatriots with which I work.
 
The first of which I met was the Psychologian, Anileptimentia. He is a pleasant fellow for a neurophile, albeit his name proves quite verbose, forcing me to refer to him simply by his title in simple parlance. He is, as mentioned, a Psychologian, and his concerns lie almost entirely with the mental state of the servitor-meat. From the first day of my arrival, he has been intent on convincing me of what I considered to be crack-pot theories, whims of his which approached heresy were they not so benign and utterly unconcerning. Albeit, on one particular date of these lectures, he and I were poised for rest after a rather mundane day of Conversions. He regaled to me a theorem which I cannot readily recall the details of, however the meaning which I gleaned was that the particular process he utilized could analyze and categorize the neuro-activity of the servitor-meat, effectively negating any need for guesswork in assigning Conversion candidates to their respective Frames. This, as I had told him, was pure genius. There would be no more rogue servitors, no rejection of purpose leading to untimely expiry of the meat, and most of all, an increased longevity of the produced servitors. All in all, the fellow is knowledgeable beyond his years, and although I fundamentally disagree with his approach, he has become my closest companion in this House.
 
The second of the trio was the Cybernetica representative, FRAME7-105. Simply taking on the title of FRAME7, the Acuitor-Silica is a mundane and boorish type, edging on completely uninteresting in every facet of his existence. He, like many of the Cybernetica, is a direct cybernetic copy of one or another Magos from yore, immortalized as a Frame, or cybernetic augmentation template. This is by which FRAME7 obtains his moniker, although he seems utterly unconcerned that he is some simulacrum of a figure that has long ago gone from this realm. He is quite plainly boring. However, in all matters related to Conversion, he is utterly reliable in every facet. Rarely if ever does the servitor-meat face issues of implant rejection or cyber-psychosis. My own conversations with him outside of this work go nowhere.
 
The last of the three was Hadrak, the Enginseer. Of him, I have little kind to say. His involvement in the process of Conversion is simply advisory, for most of his hours are spent in service of the House itself. The building, which seems to writhe, seems to, and Omnissiah forgive me for this small heresy, possess its own machine spirit. And this supposed spirit rarely seems in order, perhaps discontented for its current role. Whatever it may desire, Hadrak is its loyal servant, and for that I am awfully suspicious. Though no slight has he imparted upon me, I cannot help but feel an intense aversion to the Enginseer. Little more do I have to regale about him, and I attempt to avoid his presence as much as possible during my waking hours.
 
The House itself is an old building, a rectangular prism wrought from the same dirtied metal of the rest of the Hive. Its size is not immense from external view, and it seems only to possess a single entrance in the form of a retracting door about fourteen meters tall and approximately that wide across. Upon entry, there is a chamber which closes in like a funnel to a smaller entryway. Immediately, one can sense the pulsating hum of the structure, which could drive a lesser man, a man of pure flesh, to illness and perhaps madness if exposed for too long. Beyond that foyer is a mass of corridors and accessways, winding for perhaps kilometers into the bowels of the House. The journey within is harrowing, as mentioned in more detail in my last entry, but eventually one would come upon where the Conversion process is undertaken. Three rings, non-concentric, operating slabs in the two outer rings, the smallest ring with a gurney and monitoring equipment for more involved procedures.
 
I now sit in my quarters, reasonable accommodations for my status, open-air with my other colleagues. I am assigned a resting slab, reasonably shaped and proportioned for my stature, located directly adjacent to a port to charge my enhancements. There is no place of which to socialize or dine, we have ascended beyond such activities, and as such no space is wasted. My colleagues, other than their lectures and their talk of labor and more labor, speak naught a word. This is what it means to be a Child of the Omnissiah.
 
So why is it that I am unhappy?
 
[+++NOOSPHERIC ENCRYPTION APPLIED+++]