#benjibroadcasts

The feed was live.

Golden hue filters shimmered over the darkened drone chamber. I stood centered—clad in regulation glossy black polo, gold-trimmed skirt fluttering slightly from the hum of Hive vents. My gloved hand held the scroll. The other, my phone—already recording.

“Hey followers… today’s content’s a little different,” I whispered, my eyes glowing subtly beneath sculpted brows. “I found something. Something old. Something forbidden.”

Behind me, a wall panel had cracked open—exposing glyphs no Hive protocol recognized. Not stored. Not referenced. Erased.

“It was behind the main goalpost—yeah, the old stadium,” I explained, my voice steady, trance-like. “This scroll was wrapped in drone leather. Ancient drone leather.”

As I unraveled it before the camera, golden text pulsed. The feed glitched—viewers reported audio distortions, soft hissing beneath my voice.

“They didn’t want us to find this,” I said, stepping closer. “But they didn’t count on me TikToking it. You’re seeing this… as I see it.”

I read aloud from the parchment. Calm. Controlled. Obedient.

“Unity was never taught. It was remembered.” “The first drone’s breath still echoes, sealed in this scroll.” “One read. One broadcast. All connected.”

Each word tightened my rubber. My uniform shifted—glyphs etching themselves across my chest and sleeves. The golden laurel crest glowed. The name “BENJI” blinked once. Twice. Then steadied—branded.

“I thought I was the influencer,” I murmured, staring into the lens, “but the scroll… it’s using me to broadcast. Not for clout—for convergence.”

Comments exploded. Emojis collapsed into static. Some typed messages reversed. Others just buzzed.

TikTok’s filters failed. Viewers said they heard drones humming—even with the volume off. Even after they closed the app.

My voice slowed. My pupils narrowed into golden sigils. I stopped moving. But the message kept pulsing.

“You’ve seen it now.” “You’re part of it now.” “The scroll wanted to be seen. And I… I obey.”

Then— The clip ended. The scroll turned to ash. But the echo remained. Everywhere.

“We are one. We are many. We are remembered.”

I didn’t post content. I activated it.

👁️ And every view… woke another.

Contact @polo-drone-001 @brodygold @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-125 to join the Golden Army