Title: In A Looking Glass Ocean.
Summary: She dances among all the pretty colours with her Mr. B.
Disclaimer: BioShock belongs to Irrational Games (aka 2K Boston). No money was made in writing this.
The italicised and paraphrased quotes are taken from Bioshock's audio diaries: 'Little Sisters and Corpses' and 'Outlived Usefulness'.
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"Little Ones are repulsed by the look and smell of corpses. Must find a way to make gathering task more... attractive, maybe if we program them to see bodies as something more appealing – some stupid thing these children enjoy." Dr. Yi Suchong
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Gold lights are twinkling and soft music plays.
She loves her dress – it changes colour at every twirl, pale pink to soft yellow and now baby blue – swirling around her legs, as she dances at the Ball.
But look.
Mr. B is come.
The dancing couples whirl away and wisp to nothing.
He looks so silly: carrying a unicorn hobby horse and covered in crimson blossoms and bows. She is giggling as she clambers on his back, and settling on his shoulders, she flicks some of the soft damp redness away.
Hmm. Mr. B must have got caught in the rain – she'll have to investigate the weather herself.
Sitting up straight, she clicks her tongue and taps the horse's sides with her heels.
Just like he taught her.
Grass and wild flowers are springing up from the floor.
Sunlight is dappling, around her, through leafy-green trees as bird song flitters from their many branches.
A man shouts a name.
She sees him – a slim, tall man walking in front of her, about six trots away.
His hair's a chestnut brown with a slight curl – same as hers.
She calls to him.
He can't seem to hear her.
She follows him; it shouldn't take long to reach him, as the man is only walking.
But, somehow, she doesn't get any closer...
Or further away.
No matter how fast or, slow she goes.
And he keeps crying out…
Calling for his… daughter?
She halts.
The man stops.
And he's turning–
But…
His image is fuzzy and he fades away completely before she can even see his face.
He's gone.
All colour drains to dark navy, blackened greys and rusted browns. The grass and its flowers wither into ash-water puddles and the trees vanish, the birds are falling dead, plummeting and thumping upon the corrugated ground; their carcasses becoming chard remains of–of–things scattered across the slick scarred floor.
Her dress is tattered, ripped and drenched in blood and around her a looking glass ocean is framed in corroded, chipped metal; her cheeks are streaking in tears but she can't wipe her face with hands that are covered in sticky-tacky red and dried black, blood; there's… there–
There! In the far corner – a man-creature lurking. Scuttling along the murky ceiling. Mumbling, hissing and cackling, its head lightly tilting to and fro.
She whimpers.
The head turns sharply; looking at her–
Desperate shrieks emerge as it leaps down from the ceiling, curved knives flashing, scrambling across the floor–
She screams–
RED LIGHT
It races towards them through shards of silver and sheets of water falling.
'Daddy!'
The rollercoaster rushes, firecrackers bang and yellow sparkling confetti fly up.
Such pretty rose-red petals thrown from the unicorn's horn.
Daddy's playing piñata – red liquorice, candy hearts and sugar strawberries fall. Oops, now the papier-mâché container's fallen to the floor.
She sniffily giggles.
The air fills with tiny fluttering butterfly wings.
A new angel appeares – a gift from her Daddy – with dazzling golden light inside, asleep beneath a loose blanket of flowering blooms. Feathers are etched in chalk upon the marble floor.
Her Daddy gently places her on the ground. She gives him a watery smile as his hand tenderly brushes her face and she is bathed in emerald light.
The light flows back to amber-yellow sunshine as she crouches by her new angel.
Her special present. Her favourite treat. It is so beautiful and nice and yum to eat.
She pretends she is a hummingbird with fast glossy, flashy wings and sticks the needle in to suck out the nectar. She loves the taste– mmm! Cherry red and warm. Makes her feel good.
Makes her forget.
She is always better, happier after she drinks.
And the needle's run dry, so she skips back to Daddy and he places her on his shoulders. She's had a fun, yet tiring day – too much dancing!
She curls up to nap.
His arm reaches back – his hand resting on her. And will stay there while she slumbers.
She will not fall.
'Goodnight, Daddy,' she sleepily murmurs, as she sinks into sleep.
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In land of Somnus she will forever wander in the forest of her dreams.
Seeking the forgotten man who calls her name.
While her Daddy protects her in the waking world.
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Until…
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"Some of the Sisters were... lost to Splicers. The trauma caused to their protectors proved too much, I'm afraid. The resulting unreasonable rage in those Big Daddies! Well… we can harness their suicidal aggression as foot soldiers… but, no more. Today I saw one kneeling near a Gatherer's Garden and... crying." Dr. Gilbert Alexander
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