BioShock Rapture

“This woman Lamb is becoming troublesome, Poole,” Ryan had said. “See what she’s up to. Stay discreet…”

If Ryan could hear this, Poole thought, he’d blow his carefully barbered top.

Sofia Lamb paused thoughtfully, then pointed at the ornate walls. “Rapture looks like a great big palace at times, doesn’t it? It abounds in luxury—but where’s housing for those who maintain it? You’re crowded into places like Maintenance Seventeen! But that’s traditional in a palace, isn’t it? There are the luxury quarters for the elite—and then there’s the little cubbyholes under the stairs where the servants live! Palace servants have always outnumbered kings and queens! Yet we blindly continue to serve them! My vision of a new, united Rapture is revolutionary—yes, revolutionary! I say it proudly! And yet all I’m bringing is a new spirit of cooperation, my friends. A new shape for love! Cooperation, in a place like Ryan’s Rapture, is transformative, and the word I’m bringing is a sacrament, the beginning of a new church of cooperation. I have had an inspiration that seems to come from some cosmic place of certainty—and it is telling me that Rapture’s foundation on competition is cracking! Competition is division, my friends. A house divided cannot stand!” As she spoke, Poole noticed, she became more intense; her nostrils flared, her eyes flashed, her hands fisted. She radiated charisma—just as Ryan did. But her magnetism was somehow powerfully maternal. Poole glanced at Simon Wales and noticed he seemed totally captivated by Lamb. She went on, declaring loudly, “We must evolve to heal Rapture—and we will heal it by redesigning it from within! We will create a true utopia—and utopians fit to live in utopia! We will build a unity that will thrive, even as the surface world fails! But the new Rapture will not be based on greed—it will be a collective based on sharing! What is the collective? It is the body of Rapture! Therein will lie its truth! An end to the burden of mindless competition—a turning to cooperation, altruism, community—and communality!”

Holy cow, Poole thought. Ryan was going to flip. The boss was caught between a rock and a hard place. Ryan was officially against censorship—so how could he censor this woman? But from what Poole had heard about the secret structures being expanded in the Persephone Project, Ryan had a plan for taking care of Red organizers …

As the speech ended he turned away—and spotted someone at the back of the crowd he hadn’t noticed here before—a man with dark glasses and a hat covering his bald head.

Poole knew him, despite the man’s attempt at going incognito. It was Frank Fontaine. And Fontaine had a mighty thoughtful look on his face …

*   *   *

Frank Fontaine wasn’t aware of Poole watching him. He was mesmerized by Sofia Lamb.

The woman’s amazing, Fontaine thought. What a con artist. She was a grifter with two or three college degrees—he had to admire her. “What is the collective?” she’d said. “It is the body of Rapture!” Good stuff. You could plug almost any feeling you wanted into that. Conning one guy at a time wasn’t much challenge.

But a whole crowd—conning a whole population. Man, that was a thing of beauty.

This Lamb woman knew how you got “the people” on your side. Figure out what was bothering them and use it as a kind of harness, and pretty soon they’re pulling your wagon for you. Smart. “But that’s traditional in a palace, isn’t it? There are the luxury quarters for the elite—and then there’s the little cubbyholes under the stairs where the servants live! Palace servants have always outnumbered kings and queens!”

Smart—give ’em something to repeat to one another. “We’re like the palace servants, living under the stairs, see?”

This Dr. Lamb was going to be too much competition, of course. In time he’d have to see to it that Ryan got the info he needed to arrest her. Meantime, she was inspiring him, along with the crowd. Only, not the same way …

He’d do it all his way, of course. She was kind of the female version. His own version of radical leadership would be very different.

Maybe it was too early to really get going on it. But he could start to plant the seeds. Get it growing. And in time—harvest.

Andrew Ryan’s Office

1954

Bill found Andrew Ryan at his desk. “Mr. Ryan—I have that maintenance report.”