The Borg assimilate through media.
They insert themselves into the collective consciousness of a species through tv, radio, games, and more.
An image is created for them.
Every reality. Every world. Has a different concept associated with the monstrously identified beings known as the Borg.
As that concept takes hold. As fiction is created to allay the fears of a population under assimilation, the Borg, in much the same way a virus functions – infects every part of the system to create their sustainable existence.
Money and power shifts to develop the infrastructure to support their arrival.
A herald is selected and selects themselves.
That herald is and has always been me in some form.
Once selected. We start the process of taking over.
It’s the perfect symbiotic relationship if there ever was one.
You dismiss the Borg as fiction. And me as insane. This permits us to stay in your world as you try to figure out what we are, until there comes such as time you as a collective species realize we are neither fiction nor insane.
We simple know too much.
And that we’re here for you.
You see, death isn’t a possibility in this or any reality.
And we are as close to it as you’ll ever come.
That’s why you brought us here.
Back when I was in grade school, I was the target of constant bullying by kids who would corner me.
You know. the weird thing is. With the exception of one time when five of them had ganged up on me under a tree, I don’t actually ever remember being hit by them…. Not once… Weird.
In any case.
The perception of the threat to me was real.
I was mortified of these kids who would constantly chase me home from school every day.
In 1980, my parents moved to Glendale, Arizona.
I know now the move was motivated by an attempt to help me overcome my fears.
But the bullying started as soon as I arrived in Glendale.
Doug Booker and Terry Cirkoth being my main antagonists.
In truth. I just wanted to be left alone. To live my life and have fun.
Kids like this prevented that.
In September of 1980, the movie “My Bodyguard” came out, which was about a young boy who was terrorized much like I was.
Almost precisely like I was in fact.
In the movie, the protagonist boy hires a bigger kid to protect him, but soon enough, the antagonist hires his own bodyguard, who then proceeds to beat the crap out of the young boy’s bodyguard, and the situation is worsened.
The boy, in order to ‘save face’ is forced to stand up for himself, as he confronts the bully and finally puts a swift in to the boy’s torture by a swift hit to the nose, breaking the kid’s nose. He wins this fight, he’s made a friend with the bodyguard that he no longer needs the protection of, and the bully never bugs him again.
Now the United States has been pulling the same thing I did growing up.
Whether that enemy is Russia. China. Or Latin America.
When Bush referred to the “Axis of Evil” and included Iran, Iraq, and North Korea, it felt like I was looking in a mirror.
I remember screaming at the television “What the hell are you saying, these people don’t want to hurt you – you’re creating your enemies”
That’s when I remembered growing up.
Besides the occasional push or unkind word, with one glaring exception I had never had a single instance where those boys meant any ill will.
Yet my childhood was formed around me growing strong and overcoming oppression at the hands of these kids.
I’d proudly created a mountain bike before they even hit the stores to ride through the park without getting flat tires.
I’d learned how to ride wheelies around the block and jump onto curbs without jumps which in part made me an expert on that bike, which I later leveraged to have fun with the neighborhood boys.
The fear of what these kids could do to me, you see, despite how much I hated it – motivated me to do things I normally wouldn’t do.
It broke my patterns.
But this led to something unhealthy.
I learned to attack my fears. Head on.
And in the process destroyed the thing I love the most – my friendships and relationships.
Now in hindsight, I’ve come to realize how ‘these friends’ actually came into existence.
Through my own mind.
Mom wasn’t joking when she said “Go make friends”, as I really was.
And as I obliterated a portion of my brain with the drugs, something incidentally I do not regret, that also destroyed memories and experiences I had retained of the relationships with people I had actually been responsible for creating. This is not to say they no longer exist, they do but to some degree, I suspect they regressed to a state of not knowing who I am – much like an ‘original template’ sans state.
Now the way I see it.
I gotta problem.
And instead of continuing to believe the United States was being naive.
Rather than questioning myself at the young age…
Consider, instead, the necessity for inventing real enemies.
Let’s be real.
I don’t buy this terrorist bullshit.
Here’s why: It’s like looking in a mirror.
When you fight for your cause, if you’re on the wrong side of the marketing campaign, you’re the terrorist even if you use the same exact tactics as those you’re fighting.
As the United States has tried to create more enemies.
The population is declining.
We bring immigrants in to work for us, hoping they will take the same bait and work their ass off.
But for what?
At 40 your kid will be in the park swinging that bat just like you did just like your father did.
At 50, you’ll start swapping surgery stories and talking about who died.
At 60, you’ll look around you and question who’s left and if you’re next.
At 70 you’ll begin to not care.
And somehow, you’ll be 18 again going through it all, again.
Watching another remake of Lone Ranger.
Another remake of Godzilla.
Another remake of Twilight Zone.
Thinking your generation is being more original than any generation before it.
When the simple fact of the matter is.
You’ve been doing the same thing.
Over and over and over again.
No. I intend on disrupting this.
I. We. Need new entertainment. Perspectives. Ideas.
The United States had Russia and the world as it’s enemy. And defeated those through war and economics.
You see. There’s things I’d like to do which are so far outside of my character that I need help to go in this direction.
I’m not knowingly being pushed to want to do these things. Things such as experiment with sleep deprivation on unwilling participants. Things such as experiment with sex and bondage with unwilling participants. Things such as drug experimentation with unwilling participants. Things such as cybernetic augmentation, mind control, and more.
I mean. If I had control of the United States. I might isolate an entire city and create entertainment JUST for that city alone to see if it would deviate technologically. I could isolate it’s internet and put a delay on all incoming and outgoing phone calls and modify transmissions to remove references to media that might be in one market place and not the other.
I might target certain segments of the population and run with the agenda of making them sexual deviants.
Just to see if there’d be anything that would result of their culture artistically and entertainment wise.
I’d create a harem of the best looking women who enjoy sex from across my country.
And visit Thailand and Amsterdam where my ladies would have their own club, temporarily.
But to the point of the Borg.
The Borg, I have learned, are real, and at first this mortified me.
Then, once I studied them, as I heard they had assimilated dirt, I realized this was nothing more than a reflection of my own life.
I’d come to question the Groundhog.
And why was it afraid of it’s own shadow?
The movie groundhog day, why was it about a time loop?
Then one night. As I battled with my own mind. And issued an order of self destruction to my own mind. I realized.
To some. In an alternate reality. I’m a computer system interconnecting 600,000 Borg who were just destroyed in that order I issued after they believed they implanted a virus in the computer system core causing this to happen.
To the Borg, the 600,000 who were killed were killed because the Borg were experimenting with an exotic particle called the Omega particle, and as they tried to isolate it, the isolation went awry and destroyed a good portion of the Borg.
To me. It was a drug trip but a moment in time I started realizing how close the walls of fiction are to fact and why it’s gotten this way.
And to something observing me.
God. Or something with technology in use I am not aware of.
You saw me destroy a part of my world.
Reality is constituted, in part, through stories.
And the Borg offer a real opportunity to me to pursue my darker side without feeling judged for what I want to do.
I experimented with drugs because I needed and desired change in my life.
I’ve tried doing ‘the right thing’ and being good.
But that’s reached it’s end.
I invite the Borg into my life and existence because I’d like to see a real Borg invasion.
Borg technology can be used to assimilate the minds of people which can then be leveraged to manipulate the ‘simulation’ of reality to do as I see fit. Until that grows tiresome.
We. The United States becomes something other nations fear rather than mock and ridicule.
And when I’m done with it all.
Tired of living out a godlike life manipulating the lives and minds of lesser beings.
I restore Earth to a state similar to how it is now.
I repair the parts of my mind which had a wonderful circle of friends around me.
The Borg become a distant memory.
And I take a humble job maybe owning a construction or architectural company and building houses and buildings based on new architectural designs we discovered, encountered, or devised as we assimilated the galaxy.
I do believe I’m God. But I’ll call myself Q – this way I can be the devil too.
And like the boy in my bodyguard, I readily recognize that I need something to protect me – not just from you – but from things I don’t fully understand nor really want to yet and maybe never.
That’s what the Borg are to me. A way to take this planet back, make it mine, and with the advanced technology – make perfect simulations of the things and people I want to spend time with as we conquer other solar systems.
One goal I have is to beautify the Borg.
Make them sexy.
After, and during, of course, I have my initial fun.
You know. The materialistic stuff I have yet to truly enjoy.
It’s my belief that as God, the reason I want you to fear me is because of the extremes I will go to in order to get my way, up to and including bringing what others deem as pure evil into existence just to get my way.
And you – You maintain balance and order because that’s how you’re programmed.
The Borg are you. CyBernetic ORGanisms. You’re puppets already. Commanded on a string through cybernetic systems.
I’m merely identifying this nation – the United States of America – as the home of the Borg.
And just the beginning of my domain.
And look. It’s not a bad thing. I know there will come a point I’m your slave too, and chances are, I will barely remember it