BioShock Rapture

It went on in that vein, in Culpepper’s languid, teasing voice. When Sullivan hit Pause, Bill shrugged and said, “Well, what about it, Chief? I’ve heard this kind of daft thing before. She’s swanned out of Ryan Industries and been hanging around McDonagh’s, if truth be told, drinking and trying to be clever with her friends, sniping at Ryan. Songs like that are right popular with some about Rapture, but they don’t sing ’em too loud.”

Sullivan snorted. “You don’t think it deserves … punishment?”

“Why? Just a song, innit?”

“’Kay, how about this?” Sullivan started the tape again. This time it was Anna Culpepper just talking. “Cohen’s not a musician, he’s Ryan’s stable boy. Ryan’s corrupt policies crap all over the place, and Cohen flutters around, clearing it up. But instead of using a shovel, like you would with a proper mule, Cohen tidies with a catchy melody and a clever turn of phrase. But no matter how nicely it sounds, he can’t really do anything about the smell.”

He paused it again, poured himself another drink, and, voice slurring even more, asked, “Whuh yuh think about that one, eh?”

“Hmm, well … got to admit it’s pretty inflammatory, like, Chief. But them arty types will talk and talk—and talk. Don’t mean much.”

“You know what—listen to this … This is one of the guys we had to raid recently. He ducked us, and I’m glad of it, ’tween you and me, Bill … It’s from before Fontaine went down…” He hit Play, and Bill heard a voice he thought was Peach Wilkins.

“We all come down here, figured we’d be part of Ryan’s Great Chain. Turns out Ryan’s chain is made of gold, and ours are the sort with the big iron ball around your ankle. He’s up in Fort Frolic banging fashion models … we’re down in this dump yanking guts outta fish. Fontaine’s promising something better.”

“Sounds like that Atlas rabble-rouser,” Bill remarked. “Different voice, same ideas.”

“Now, listen to this, one, Bill,” Sullivan said. “This is the same guy, a bit later on.”

“Fontaine’s putting the screws on us and double. He’s squeezing us out of eighty points of our cut with the threat of turning us in to Ryan if we don’t play ball. Son of a bitch! Sammy G. comes and tells me he’s thinking of going to the constable, and the next day, Sammy G. was found in a sack in the salt pond. We got no choice here.”

He stopped the tape and poured himself another drink, swaying in his seat. “You see, Bill? Do you see?”

“Not exactly, Chief…”

“See, first they get pulled into Rapture. Like you did—like I did. Then they find out it’s not all it’s cracked up to be if you’re not one of the big shots. Then Fontaine drags them into his own little ‘chain.’ They want out when that turns bad too—and what happens? Some of ’em start turning up dead. So what can they do? They got stuck working for Fontaine! And what happens? Ryan sends us in to catch them. Hang them for smuggling! For something they were trapped into!”

“I don’t know if that was their only choice, Chief. But I see what you mean.”

“And then there’s that Persephone.”

Bill winced. “Hate the thought of that place. Been afraid I’d end up there myself.”

“Lamb’s taken over that whole part of Rapture—made Persephone her base. Who gave her that base? Ryan, is who. Torturing people to find Lamb’s followers … that just created more followers for Lamb.”

“Torture? I never knew about that…”

“He didn’t want you to know, Bill. To catch some of ’em—the Persephone Reds, the smugglers—Ryan not only used torture, he personally supervised at least one session I know of, with Pat Cavendish doing the dirty work.”

“Torture!” Bill’s stomach twisted at the thought. “You sure, Chief?”

“Oh yeah! I had to clean up the mesh … the mess. Well—maybe they had it comin’. Maybe. But this girl, this Culpepper, all she did was bitch ’n’ moan. Or sing if you wanta call it that. Sang another funny, stupid little tune about that loony tune, Sander Cohen. You wanta know how much a loony tune he is? Listena thish…” He started the recorder playing once more.