Parasites

Eugh. Next time I see HH, remind me to tell him this: the next time you fire up that blue box of yours, we are going somewhere nice. I don’t mind where, exactly. If I don’t hear the words “parasite”, or “thief”, or “monster”, consider it a holiday. At least I won’t have to keep running all the time.

God knows what they do around here on their days off. It’s Battle Royale for the insane, and everyone’s invited. I’ve met actors, athletes, surgeons and fishermen. All completely off their rockers. None of them wanted to talk. Or even communicate. They sure as hell spoke a lot, though.

I’m still at a loss as to what Rapture is. It reminds me of a city, except that cities don’t tend to be so…divided, in terms of what goes where. It’s full of tunnels, and escalators, and strange submersible things that don’t seem to be working at the moment. Everywhere has it’s place. Almost like a collection.

It’s glitzy, too. There’s a lot of billboards around. I saw one advertising cosmetic surgery awhile ago, larking on about some chump called Steinman. And Rejuvena. Others mention Sinclair Solutions, and ADAM. It’s sort of religious propaganda, but without the issue of morality.

Funny how they don’t mention the slugs, though. For a place that seemingly prides itself on the extermination of “parasites”, you’d think they’d do something about the chumps oozing over the surrounding seabed.

These slugs are pretty hard to miss. Like most of Rapture, they glow, and they share it’s personality to a T. I’m covered in bites, from where they’ve come flooding in through holes in the wall- which were no doubt caused by the pesticide brigade, judging from the corpses…

I wonder what the locals do with them. They can’t be eating the chumps, that’s for sure. I know the french enjoy a snail from time to time, but these things taste disgusting.

No amount of garlic can sort that out, believe me.

W

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