When my pod finally latches onto a building, I hear a metal churning sound as it begins to descend like an elevator. Well, at least I am not at the bottom of the ocean.
As the pod lowers, I see light shining through glass windows and through the holes in the machinery. It appears someone carved slits into the metal support beams, as the light shines through them and literally spells out this city's motto.
'Why would he send his savior unto us ... If we will not raise a finger for our own salvation? ... And though we deserved not his mercy ... he has lead us to this New Eden ... a last chance for Redemption.'
Already I can remember what Andrew Ryan said to me during my descent into the murk. Funny, it was only five or six months ago but it feels like it's been a decade.
I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... Rapture. A city where the artist would not fear the censor. Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality. Where the great would not be constrained by the small.
A society is only as good as the values it is based upon, and Rapture's values rotted it to the core and stripped its people of their humanity. If that introduction is any indicator, this city's values are vastly different than those or Rapture. However, I can still only guess as to whether or not they are better or worse.
Finally, a large mural comes into view. It depicts a man with a white beard, surrounded by earnest faithful and pointing to a city in the clouds. Above it is a banner which reads 'And the Prophet shall lead the people to The New Eden.'
No Gods or Kings. Only Man.
It is finally when the pod comes to a halt that the door opens and the restraints on my arms release me. It is here that I behold with horror the first obstacle I must traverse in this strange city.
The chamber is filled with water. Horrible, Icy, Damp, Horrible water.
I can already feel my skin bristling up and my form trembling in fear. I attempt to breathe in, but my breaths become faster and faster as my body covers with sweat and my vision begins to blur.
Come on Jack! You can do this you can do this you can do this ...
Hesitantly, I step into the water and begin to trudge my way towards the door in the hopes of finding some dry land to stand on. A statue of the old man on the mural stands in the hallway, arms outstretched in welcome. I slosh around it, past the two wet shrines to the left and the right. Past the man in the white robe whose head is bent in prayer. I head strait for the (thankfully) dry stairs.
I am careful not to slip and break my neck on these stairs, though my heart sinks when I realize that the chamber they lead to is also flooded with water. Even so, I press on because if I do not I will never get out of this watery place. Already my skin is bristled and I have to rub my fingers against my thumbs to distract myself from this horrible horrible water.
Why did it have to be water?!
At the bottom of the spiral staircase I find a large flooded hall. Great marble columns support the high ceiling. Stone angels standing atop these columns reach out together, forming archways with their arms.
There is so much horrible water here that I am convulsing with terror. Tears are welling up in my eyes, as a wash of anxiety floods over me and deprives me of my senses. I am ashamed; ashamed of myself for being afraid of water, ashamed of myself for having agreed to this suicide mission.
Ashamed of myself for being an unhuman freak grown in a lab for the sole purpose of carrying out an assassination! Soon I collapse into a weeping huddle.
OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod ...
I have no idea how, but after an amount of time I can not measure I end up past a crowd of white-robed worshipers and in front of a preacher. The preacher is wearing a black robe and appears to be on the older side. When he notices me, he says this.
"Is it someone new? Someone from The Sodom Below, newly come to Columbia to be washed clean before Our Prophet, Our Founders and Our Lord?"
Nothing can ever wash me clean. No matter what he does, those people on the airplane will still be dead.
But by this point I would do anything to get out of this water, so I stammer out such a request. "I - I just - I just want to go into the city ..."
"Brother the only way to Columbia is through rebirth in the sweet waters of baptism. Will you be cleansed brother?" He holds out his hand as though to literally lead me, so I walk forward.
Might as well get it over with ...
I am so tensed up that I am forgetting to breathe and will surely suffocate. The idea of him pooling water in his hands and dripping it over my head terrifies me beyond reason.
If only I was so lucky. Instead, the preacher places his hand over my face and pushes me all the way under the water!
I struggle, thrash, and do everything in my power to get back above; it is of no use as the people gathered around the preacher all place their hands upon me to keep me under! My heart is beating so rapidly that I seriously fear it will burst, and my lungs strain as air comes out of me but does not go back in.
HELP! HELP! I'M DROWNING! HELP!
I am by this point thrashing wildly, and soon they grab my hands and legs to keep be still.
Before I black out, I have one coherent thought.
It tastes like Rapture ...