Disclaimer/ I don't own Bioshock, that honour belongs to 2k games.
The City
The city was dying, rotting from the inside out.
You couldn't recognize the decay it was still in its early stages; shifting between forms. The city's monolithic towers remained strong, electricity still surged through copper veins and the pulse of living warmth still radiated out from her steel walls, so to the city's denizens all was well. But this particular decay, this sickness was as illusive as it was insidious. Deep within her bustling bowels and well-trod streets there was a growing cold that was not the chill of the ocean or the frost of winter.
Busy hands worked tirelessly in her innards, tinkering with this, replacing that. Frantic and feverish her keepers laboured, desperate to give her the strength to bare the burden of the Atlantic on her shoulders. They could feel the growing cold. They gave it names, tried to label it with meaningless syllables; fear, greed, cruelty, corruption. But despite their intelligence and ingenuity, they could do nothing to hold back what they didn't understand.
The days came and went like waves on the beach.
The cold decay slowly but surely oozed its way into the cities heart, where finally, it blossomed and revealed itself in all its hideous glory. To late the busy hands and brilliant minds realized that here and now, in their perfect city was all the evil they will ever know. Confused and disorientated most then leapt, willingly, obediently into its gaping maw.
So the city rotted away. Her once vigilant keepers neglected her, their tinkering became clumsy and the repairs became few and far between. Still she waited patiently, limping on under her own steam desperate for her keepers to return and breathe more life into her.