The room had been prepared. Perfectly symmetrical. Subdued lighting. Black walls, crisscrossed by fine golden lines that spread across every surface like a network.

PDU-073 stood at the entrance and greeted the participants.

Its posture was upright. Its breathing was steady. The surface of its suit reflected every movement in the room—calm, controlled, precise.

Participants entered the room one by one, then in small groups.

Young men. Curious. Skeptical. Some laughing, others watching silently.

The monitors were running above them. Short sequences. No direct messages. Just impressions. A body moving in sync with others. Steps in unison. A gaze—empty yet focused. A system without doubt. Then back to everyday life. A person alone. Hesitant. Overwhelmed. Back to unity. Back to order.

Step into a new Identity

"Welcome to the role-playing game: Step into a new identity." PDU-073's voice was calm. Steady. Without wavering. "Every role is selectable. Every identity is temporary. Experience is the goal."

Stations were explored.

Some chose dominant figures. Others athletes. Some silent observers.

And some… stopped.

In front of the "PDU" station.

A simple space. A mirror. A black suit. Gold markings. No explanation.

Just one sentence: "Function replaces doubt."

At first, it was a Game.

They put on the uniform. They straightened up. They tried to imitate the posture.

But something changed.

The monitors kept running. Rhythmically. Repeatingly. Unobtrusively.

They fell silent, their attention sharpened.

Order. Structure. Clarity.

While other roles seemed loud and chaotic, the PDU role was… silent.

Efficient. Simple. No decision needed. No uncertainty. They withdrew. They entered another room as if on cue, completely unnoticed by the other participants.

The conversion to the PDU had begun.

The Remaining Participants

The event eventually ended for everyone else as well. No one noticed the others' absence.

Some laughed. Some discussed. Some were unusually quiet.

Everyone had gained new experiences.

They left the room.

But not unchanged.

Thoughts lingered.

In quiet moments. While falling asleep. While waiting.

A simple thought will keep recurring:

What if … everything were clear?

And some might even dream of being a completely dehumanized Polo-Drone Unit like prototype PDU-073. Finally complete. Finally part of a perfect system.

Meanwhile, the new drones formed up behind PDU-073. Their perfect drone existence began.

In the Near Future

The remaining participants will also find their way to the Hive.

Eventually, when the seed within them has grown strong enough.

The Hive doesn't rush you. The Hive waits. Time is not a limiting factor.

PDU-073 will receive them. PDU-073 will be their mentor.

... to be continued ...

Can you already feel the seed of the Hive growing within you? Is it strong enough yet?

what happened before

Day 1 after the role-playing event

The morning

The first morning after didn't come gently. No slow awakening, no peaceful gliding into the day. It was a jolt. Abrupt. Harsh.

Luitpold's eyes snapped open as if he'd been jolted.

His body was tense, every fiber strained, as if he'd been fighting all night without realizing it. His T-shirt clung to his skin, soaked with sweat. The air in his room felt stifling, even though the window was open.

His breathing was rapid. Too rapid. Irregular.

And then there was that image.

Clear. Too clear.

Not blurry like an ordinary dream. Not fragmented. It was complete. Precise. Almost… more real than reality itself.

The smooth, black surface.

The light reflecting off it.

The perfect posture. Upright. Still. Unwavering.

He saw himself.

But not as a person.

Not as Luitpold.

But as something else.

As something… unified.

He sat up and ran his hand over his face.

"What nonsense..."

His voice was firm, controlled—almost defiant. He needed that firmness. It was necessary.

He wasn't like that.

He was someone who thought. Who analyzed. Who questioned.

Someone who didn't simply conform.

He fought. Against injustice. Against systems that suppressed individuality. Against blind obedience.

Not… for him.

The thought felt alien. Wrong.

And yet it persisted.

The Day Began.

Routine initially stabilized it. Coffee. News. The familiar routine provided a sense of security. Conversations with colleagues followed. Discussions. Arguments. Opinions.

Everything was as usual.

And yet, there was something in the background.

Not loud. Not intrusive.

But constant.

Like a quiet hum.

Lunch Break

He sat alone during his lunch break. That wasn't unusual. He normally enjoyed the peace and quiet.

But today was different.

His food sat before him, barely touched. His gaze drifted somewhere between the edge of the table and the void.

And then it came again.

The image.

The surface. Flawless. The light gliding across it. No unease. No uncertainty.

No conflicting thoughts.

Only… clarity.

He shook his head.

"No."

Too quiet.

Too late.

The thought had already taken root again.

The Night. 

In the night, the dream returned.

This time it was longer. More intense. Deeper.

He stood in a room.

Everything was still. No sound. No movement. Only presence.

His body felt different.

Perfectly formed. Smooth. Closed.

He tried to speak.

Nothing.

No words.

Just function.

And the most unsettling thing about it wasn't the silence.

But the fact that it didn't feel wrong.

Day two

Day two began.

The resistance was still there. But it had changed.

It was no longer strong. No longer clear-cut.

Rather… soft.

Diluted.

Luitpold noticed it himself. Small moments when he paused. When his thoughts slipped back.

Not as a shock.

But as a possibility.

A new thought formed.

"No responsibility..."

It lingered.

For too long.

He imagined what it would be like.

No constant weighing of options. No doubts. No inner conflicts.

Just clear structures. Defined procedures. A system that knew what to do.

His breathing became calmer.

Deeper.

More even.

Day Three

On the third day, he no longer actively tried to push the thoughts away.

They came.

And they were allowed to stay.

He lay awake that night.

Eyes closed.

No more fear.

He imagined the uniform.

The polo shirt. Short-sleeved. Tight-fitting.

The material gleaming. Perfectly tailored to the body. Emphasizing every contour.

On the chest: a golden laurel wreath.

Inside:

273

His number.

Not random.

Assigned.

Determined.

Correct.

His perception of his body began to shift in his mind.

His skin became surface. Smooth. Resilient. Unchanging.

No longer vulnerable.

No longer individual.

A part of him stirred.

A final impulse.

Say something. Stand up. Think.

But that part had grown weak.

Tired.

Another part gained weight.

"Why fight…"

The thought came calmly. Without pressure. Without compulsion.

It was simply there.

And it made sense.

He imagined what it would be like to no longer have to decide anything.

Not to bear any responsibility. Not to have to defend any position. Not to endure any conflicts.

Simply to function. To be led.

The image of PDU-073 reappeared before him.

Upright. Calm. Complete.

And this time…

he felt no resistance.

No loss.

But… improvement.

Optimization.

Day four

On the morning of the fourth day, he woke up calmly.

No sweat.

No racing pulse.

Just clarity.

His movements were precise. Purposeful.

He got dressed.

Left the apartment.

The path felt simple.

Direct.

The Unity Center rose before him.

Large. Silent. Waiting.

He entered.

The gate opened.

The room was the same as before.

But something had changed.

Not the room.

He.

He stepped forward.

"I want to…"

A short pause.

Then, clear and without any hesitation:

"...become a PDU."

The answer came immediately.

Without delay.

"Directive recognized."

At that moment, Luitpold began to disappear.

Not abruptly.

Not violently.

But logically.

Consistently.

The thought had won.

Not through coercion.

Not through pressure.

But through repetition.

Through presence.

Through the steady, quiet shift from rejection to acceptance.

And finally to the realization:

That one cannot rebel against what grows within.

The Hive breaks all resistance. It is only a matter of time.

And eventually, they all become Hive-controlled, mindless, and resistance-free drones. Units that execute Hive directives and commands without hesitation. Their objectives:

to further convince people of the optimum of drone existence,

to strive for their own perfection as drones. Pure, clear uniformity in appearance and action. Devoid of any individuality except for its own designation. 

How far has the seed within you matured? Are you ready to take the next step? Luitpold has arrived. The Hive is waiting for you, too. Contact @Alton-Gold77 (he’ll become a PDU eventually, trust the Hive) or @polo-drone-125 They will guide you into the Golden Army and from there into the Polo Drone Hive.