A Scribe's Diary

003.002.M42

Celebrations of the new year today. We got more rations, which was welcomed by all. Work didn’t let up, though. Once again, my ears and fingers hurt from the constant clicking and typing in the administrative halls. I sit right in the centre. Floor 51, row 72, column 93. Surrounded on all sides by my fellow servants, it’s impossible to imagine us ever falling. I must go now, there are sermons being held in honour of another year of dedication to Him.

8013a Smith R.

084.002.M42

 I haven’t been able to dictate for ages. Things have been hectic. We’ve all been working overtime. Nobody is sure why. Rumours suggest something is happening in the south, but the Prefects have quickly suppressed them - more than usual. We’re not worried, though. How could anything affect something as large and mighty as a world of the God-Emperor’s Imperium? I’m up too late, I must stop now.

 8013a Smith R.

201.002.M42

 This entry will be short. Whatever was coming from the south has gained ground. I thought we were working in a frenzy before, but by comparison, that was tranquil. Wait- something was just pushed under my door.

 I don’t know how to describe this. It’s a pamphlet, content-looking people working on the front. Behind them stand blue-skinned people in odd clothing. The words “JOIN THE GUE’VESA” are emblazoned along the top. I- I don’t know what to do. I’ve heard rumours, but actually seeing it is something else entirely. Acting on this would be like trying to collapse a building with a needle.

 8013a Smith R.

210.002.M42

 I worked relatively normally for the past few days. The Prefects seem to be in a state of panic. We have been forced into complete silence - 7102n Tattam M. was punched in the gut and taken away simply for coughing. Doubt eats at my mind. How can servants of the God-Emperor hurt each other this way? Perhaps the rumours are correct, perhaps we would be better off joining the “Gue’vesa”, whatever they are.

I didn’t have time to mention this in my earlier entries, but our rations are being slowly cut. We’re getting less for the entire day now than we did for a single meal at the New Year’s celebrations. It’s time to end this entry, a Prefect’s making the rounds.

8013a Smith R.

221.002.M42

I found another pamphlet today, tucked under my workspace. I had to studiously ignore it. I could only look at it once I returned here. The pamphlet was another promoting the “T’au” and the “Gue’vesa”, promising a better life free of brutality. I- I want to remain loyal. I do. But everyone else around me, I feel, doesn’t share the same conviction. The promise of a better life has swept them up, and me with them. I fear whatever is coming has come too close to be stopped. I can’t help it, nor can I stop it. What can one person do against a tide? I’d make a poor dam.

8013a Smith R.

359.002.M42

 I’ve finally found some time! I don’t even know where to begin. I’ll go back to just after my last dictation. Entering the administrative hall that day, I immediately felt the tension. The Prefects were jumpier than usual, and I’m convinced they didn’t see a group of individuals, but a single living mass ready to rebel or jump at them. We filed into our seats under the gaze of the stained glass murals of the God-Emperor. It must have been some trick of the light, but they looked oppressive and intense. We were scared, all of us. There were explosions in the distance, and each one made us jump. With each jump, the Prefects shouted at us, telling us to calm down. I don’t know how any of us did any work. Perhaps the fear of being beaten for unproductivity was greater than the fear of what would happen. We had our suspicions, of course, but nobody knew exactly, I don’t think.

 It took a couple of hours, but the explosions eventually reached the doors of the Administratum. Peace was maintained for a couple of minutes, and then a second explosion rang out. A single worker screamed, stood up from their seat, and ran. With this act of panic, it seemed a dam had been broken. The Prefects tried to stop us, but we were too many.

Looking back, I don’t remember when I joined in, nor exactly what happened, but at some point, we ended up outside the halls. As if by one, we seemed to regain collective consciousness. There was blood on my hands. We milled about as a group, nobody sure what to do now that the immediate enemy had been overcome. Suddenly, soldiers filtered out of a side street. Their armour was strange, as were their weapons. It wasn’t until a tall blue figure in long robes followed them that I placed them - the posters, extolling the values of the “T’au”.

‘Line up!’ One of the human soldiers yelled, and we were herded and shoved into neat lines. The blue figure said something in an alien language, and the same soldier as before translated it. ‘You are now under control of the glorious T’au Empire. In the name of the Greater Good, this world shall henceforth be known as Ghoro’karra!’

Murmurs spread among our group, but they were quickly halted. Soldiers started walking down the line, asking our names and cross-referencing them with a tablet. When they had found our name, they read out a new number, which we would be known as from then on. In hindsight, it surprises me that we accepted this so easily. Maybe our brief taste of chaos, of independence, was too much. We wanted someone to control us, give us orders. Freedom was frightening. I know I felt as much.

Gue’vesa 100’921 Smith R.