Part 3: "Where we come from"

Divine Comedy History Records
Winter 2010
April
Special Addendum Part 3

(Note: I know we keep updating you on this, the longest day of our lives. But you should really go back and read Part 1 and Part 2, so you understand just how freaked out we were by this point.)

April 16, 2010
11:20 am

It’s about 11:20 in the morning and instead of studying for my History of Music final, I’m instead planning with the rest of Divine Comedy, [Editor #2] of the 100 Hour Board and former Board writer [Waldorf] to go find the Borg who we think are somewhere in the Marriott Center, where we think they are going to try to assimilate everyone who comes to commencement for graduation. Those are two things that we think. What we KNOW is that even if the Borg are there, none of us have any idea of what to do about them. [Editor #2] isn’t saying anything, [Waldorf] is so focused on finding [Sauron] that she won’t listen to anyone, and the rest of us are wondering what on earth we’re doing.

OK, it looks like were almost ready to leave. I’m not sure what is going to happen, but so that there is some kind of record of what happens, I’ll send these updates to my Divine Comedy message account. Wouldn’t that be crazy if the 100 Hour Board and Divine Comedy end up being the cause of my premature death? Crazy and, like, the saddest thing you’ve ever heard?

Wish us luck.

April 16, 2010
11:35 am

We are in the tunnels just outside a hatchway that leads into the Marriott center. I had no idea how many tunnels there were in this place and how often the Board writers use them. I kept expecting a Borg [Black Sheep] or a Borg [Cognoscente] to jump out at us ([Editor #2] said that the Borg now probably knows everything that the Board writers know), but we got through safely. When we arrived at the hatch, [Waldorf] turned to [Editor #2] and said, “Last chance. Are you sure there’s nothing can tell us about the Borg that will help us?” He slowly shook his head and then winced, probably expecting her to punch him again (I know I was). But [Waldorf] just turned away disgusted. She opened the hatch and we went in.

April 16, 2010
11:42 am

We got in the hatch and onto the upper concourse of the Marriott Center with no problem. It’s so dark in here, Whitney and I kept tripping on each other. Jeremy and James I guess are nervous eaters because they were wolfing down the candy bars that Patricia had left in the writer’s headquarters. As we all clustered together in the dark, [Editor #2] whispered, “Look down there.”

At the bottom of the Marriott Center floor, coming through one of the vomitories, was a dull, flickering green-gray light. “That’s them,” [Editor #2] said, “I’ll go down first and see what . . .”

[Waldorf] snorted contemptuously, “You? Go down alone? While we wait patiently for you to tell them that we’re up here.” Even in the dark we could see [Editor #2]’s eyes go wide. “I wouldn’t . . .” he started. “Like you wouldn’t sell out [Queen Alice]?” Gregory demanded. “No, we’re all going down together.” [Editor #2] looked around, and then hung his head, defeated.

We all made our way down to the arena floor. It was silent except for short, quiet breaths and the crinkle of candy wrappers. Someone squeezed my hand and I squeezed back. We all stepped onto the floor and slowly walked toward the green light.

And now we’re just waiting. Waiting for something to happen.

April 16, 2010
12:10pm

They have us. But she told me that I need to keep writing down what is happening. She said that whether or not people know that the Borg are here is “irrelevant.” She said she wants a record kept, so that people know about the Borg. About why they are here. And what is going to happen to all of us.

I’m shaking so bad I can barely type.

We all just stood there in the dark, in front of the green light and the mist at the tunnel entrance. “Now what?” Gregory whispered.

“Please. Please go. Now,” [Editor #2] said to everyone.

That’s when she spoke. “It is too late to leave. It is impossible to go. You are here and now you are ours.” And she came walking out of the light, out of the thick, sticky mist. It was [Queen Alice]. But . . . not quite.

“I will speak for the Borg. This body, the latest to be assimilated, has been left with a measure of personality in tact, so that you may more easily be understood by us.” She had a mechanical eyepiece covering most of her face and a tube coming out of her shoulder and running into a chest plate. But her long brown hair was still there. She smiled and had a calm pleasant expression on her pale, gray face. Her eye laser was shining in the gloom. She was the freakiest thing I’ve ever seen.

She looked at [Editor #2]. “We expected you, [Editor #2]. We knew that you would come.” But then she turned and looked at the rest of us. Everyone seemed rooted to the ground. “We did not know you would bring others. But it is irrelevant. All will be assimilated. All will serve the Borg.”

As she finished speaking, more than twenty red tiny lights lit up the darkness as the Borg rushed forward and grabbed us. I could see some of their faces in the green light. I saw [The Black Sheep], [Saint Sebastianne] and [Commander Keen]. They looked dead. They looked like zombies.

The Borg who was [Queen Alice] gave a small smile. “Resistance, as you can see, would be utterly futile.” She began to turn away.

“Where is [Sauron]?” called [Waldorf]. She was across from me, being held by [Laser Jock]. “Where is my husband?”

The Borg Queen turned back around. She stared at [Waldorf] her eye light dancing across [Waldorf]’s face. “You have no husband. The entity [Sauron] has been assimilated.” [Waldorf] looked at [Editor #2] who was standing with his head on his chest, defeated.

“Take him!” she called. “Take [Editor #2] and give me [Sauron]!”

The Borg Queen smiled her dead smile again. “Are you attempting to bargain? We will assimilate who we wish. We will not separate any entities from the Collective. You, of course, will join [Sauron] as one of the Borg. That is all. And perhaps, in time, we will assimilate [Editor #2].”

At that, [Editor #2] looked up, genuine surprise on his face. “In time? What do you mean ‘in time’? Your prime directive has always been to assimilate the Board?”

[Waldorf] writhed in the grip of Borg [Laser Jock], looking capable of throttling the Borg Queen. “You had to assimilate the Board because the Board are the only ones who could stop you! They have figured out harder problems than you, you fish-faced Robocop! You had to stop them before they stopped you!”

Gregory, held by the Borg [Hobbes] turned to [Editor #2]. “Wait,” he shouted “How would YOU know what their prime directive is? Did you bargain your way out of being assimilated by selling off the rest of the writers, [Editor #2]?”

The Borg Queen looked back and forth from the struggling, shouting Gregory, and the pale, sweating [Editor #2]. “[Editor #2], how is it that you have not told them the truth about us? Why have you not explained where we come from? Perhaps you would like ME to do so?” If [Editor #2] looked defeated before, he looked completely crushed now.

“Very well,” purred the Borg Queen. “We did not assimilated the Board because we thought they could stop us. Far from it. We targeted the Board for a far different reason.”

“Which is?” asked Gregory.

“Because the Board . . . created the Borg,” said [Editor #2] in a whisper.

No one said anything.

The Borg Queen smiled.