"Name?"
"Ralph Wahldenberg."
"City and country of origin?"
"Dublin, Ireland."
"Age?"
"29."
"Date of Birth?"
"April 2nd, 1926."
"Thank you for taking the required census Mr. Wahldenberg. Welcome to Rapture."
As you've probably heard, my name is Ralph Wahldenberg. I was a gun maker, smuggler, and runner during the last world war. Me old man showed me how to create the nasty hardware when I was fifteen, before a potential buyer blasted his head off of his shoulders and took the crate of weapons for his allies in the Nazi party. I took over his shop and employees and shipped weapons to everyone but the fucking Germans. Before long, more and more countries started to join the Axis and I was intentionally arming Hitler and his brain dead krauts. My reputation was ruined, my shop was closed down, and I became a wanted man.
Ten years after the war ended, a courier handed me a letter with a strange R insignia stamped on it. It was an invitation to to a marvel in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, only known as "Rapture." This cold be my chance start again.
My boat ride took nearly a week to find the location on the simple map we were given and all it was was a lighthouse. Nothin' but a FUCKING LIGHTHOUSE! I docked at the rock and the ship was starting to leave, showing me nothing but it's rudder.
"Oi! I paid you bastards 200 quid! Get your arses over here and let me aboard!"
There was now reply, no sign of turning, and they seemed to just ignore me and continued onward. Inside was a statue of a man that must think of himself as God and a ball down the stairs with a lever to pull. With pulling the lever the door sealed shut and a movie played. Me without me popcorn and soda pop. Then I finally saw the marvel that was described in the letter, an underwater utopia. When the strange ball had docked, I was greeted by a man named Mr. Achmeld who said I couldn't pass without going through the census.
The city was a marvelous sight, who knew a man could build such a thing when he gets the church and government from breathing down his neck? Then the monarch walked up to me offering a handshake and a grin.
