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how it began
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The thought hadn't been loud.
No sudden impulse, no dramatic moment.
It had crept in quietly.
Silently.
Unstoppably.
Time and again he had returned,
had settled in,
deeper with each visit.
Just like with the others.
A pattern that held true.
A routine that worked.
Precise. Reliable.
On the morning of the fourth day, Luitpold stood in front of the main entrance to the Unity Center.
His body was tense.
His gaze clear and focused.
No more doubts.
No hesitation.
The doors slid open silently.
Inside: silence. Order. Golden lines crisscrossed black surfaces.
A space without distraction. Without chaos.
Luitpold stepped forward.
One step across the threshold—
and the outside world lost its significance.
No visible movement behind it.
And yet a presence was palpable.
Then, clearly and without any hesitation:
“…to become a Polo-Drone Unit.
I‘m looking for PDU-073.”
His voice was calm.
Steady.
Prepared.
No trembling.
No hesitation.
Not hasty.
Not hesitant.
But precise.
The black surface of his body, his uniform, reflected the light.
A few golden accents on the uniform emphasized structure, form, function.
His rubber body—perfection cast in material.
His rubber uniform—perfection in cut and fit.
No expression was on his face.
No hint of thought or emotion.
“Directive acknowledged.”
The voice was monotonous. Steady.
No further words were needed.
The way led deeper into the Center.
Corridors stretched out before them—
symmetrical, immaculate, seemingly endless.
Black and gold.
Again and again.
Every step was muffled by the smooth floor,
as if even the echo were being controlled.
No coincidence.
No deviation.
His movements were precise, steady,
free of any unnecessary emotion.
Without hesitation.
Without thoughts holding him back.
The conversion chamber opened with a hiss.
Silence filled the chamber.
A space of technology and function.
Consoles lined the walls,
their surfaces shimmering in amber light.
In the center: an armchair.
Comfortable, yet technical.
Inviting, yet somewhat menacing.
Cool.
Precisely shaped.
Ready.
It was meant to be there.
The words weren’t loud.
And yet unavoidable.
Luitpold stepped forward.
One last step,
which meant more than all the ones before.
No sooner had he taken his seat
than the mechanism moved.
Automatically.
Precisely.
They wrapped around his body,
tightening—not hastily, but decisively.
At the same time, the door closed.
A soft hiss cut through the silence.
A magnetic lock engaged with a dark clunk.
It didn’t start abruptly.
No sudden break.
No single moment that changed everything.
At first, there was… silence.
A humming began.
Steady.
Unobtrusive.
Inevitable.
Hypnotic gas fills the room.
It filled the room.
Then him.
They overlaid his thoughts,
interfered,
took up space.
What had just been clear
fell apart into fragments.
Faces lost their sharpness.
Contours became soft, uncertain.
An impulse.
A remnant of resistance.
Then… that, too, disappeared.
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“Individual identity is being erased.”
The voice was everywhere.
In front of him.
Behind him.
Inside him.
It was no longer possible to tell the difference.
And it was no longer relevant.
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Thoughts no longer existed.
The ability to think for oneself was erased—forever.
The replacement was simpler.
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“Designation assigned: PDU-273.”
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Sparse.
Functional.
Devoid of meaning beyond its purpose.
The instruction was clear.
PDU-273 responded immediately.
No hesitation.
No deliberation.
Clothing was removed.
Without thought.
Without significance.
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Behind it: the body optimization chamber.
The conversion cylinder stood in the center.
Its interior filled with black, glossy liquid,
which did not reflect the light,
but seemed to swallow it.
Liquid rubber polymers
PDU-273 stepped into the cylinder.
Or movement from the outside.
The distinction was no longer relevant.
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The liquid touched the body.
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It moved across the skin.
Not like fabric.
Not like a covering.
On its own.
With purpose.
Like a decision that had already been made.
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Limits lost their meaning.
The surface smoothed out.
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Features began to disappear.
Everything that had conveyed expression
was removed.
In their place, invisible audiovisual sensors and an audio playback element are formed
Systematically.
Completely.
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A Polo-Drone made of rubber.
All human cells replaced by rubber polymer structures.
The body—a perfect copy of the prototype template.
Shape, size, dimensions—everything is identical down to the last detail.
Completely identical to the other prototype drones PDU-073, PDU-373, and PDU-703.
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“Body Optimization Complete”
With a gurgling sound, the remaining rubber drained through the cylinder’s internal drain.
The speaker: “Activation initialized.”
The cylinder opened again.
PDU-073 handed over the uniform.
A black, glossy polo shirt.
Golden accents ran across the surface,
guiding the eye along the fabric’s texture.
On the chest:
a laurel wreath.
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The material reacted immediately.
It conformed to the body.
As if it were meant to be.
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The surface blended seamlessly.
Form and material became one.
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PDU-273 was at a standstill.
No expression.
No rating.
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Another process completed.
Another element integrated.
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PDU-273 reports:“Unit active.
Ready to execute.”
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Luitpold no longer exists.
The structures that defined him—
memory, language, personality—
have been removed.
What was once a highly intelligent, analytical consciousness
has been replaced.
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PDU-273 is not an individual.
It bears no history.
It is not the source of thoughts.
It has no memory of its own.
It has no autonomous processes.
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Every action follows guidelines.
Precise.
Linear.
Flawless.
No delay.
No doubt.
No deviation.
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Perfected for its purpose.
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Part of the network.
Synchronized with the Hive.
Every directive is received.
Every directive is implemented.
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The hive doesn't grow through force.
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And somewhere, outside the city center…
a new thought takes root.
The beginning has already begun.
Perhaps it has already begun for you.
The seed has been planted.
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Become a precision-functioning unit.
Free from distraction. Free from unnecessary thoughts.
Focused on efficiency—controlled by the Hive.
Contact our recruiters.
@Alton-Gold77
(the seed is taking root in him too—even if he doesn't realize it yet)
or
@polo-drone-125
Your journey toward this goal begins the moment you join.
After a short trial phase within the Golden Army,
your conversion to a PDU can begin;
even to the dehumanized prototype class.
