What SHE said
A fully-clothed Number Seven is plugged into her alcove. Unlike her Queen’s alcove, her alcove will not automatically disrobe her before she is plugged in. The robotgirl is expressionless. A blank slate. Looking as if she’s been lobotomized. A cold fish in and out of bed? Looking straight ahead, her empty unblinking blue eyes stare off mindlessly into space. Occasionally her eyes will fluorosis different colors, some very bright hues and some just as subdued, as she, via the Borg’s Hive Mind, receives seemingly-endless firmware updates or she performs various tasks that she has been assigned by either her local Borg Queen (Borg Queen Nine) or the Borg Queen (Borg Queen One) who reigns over The Collective from Unimatrix Zero One.
Hive Mind transmissions are in an encrypted trinary known as Q-Language. Not just the 1’s and 0’s of binary code. The on, off, and maybe of Quantum computing, and it is proprietary to the Borg. Transmission latency? The same as for subspace communications—i.e., none. Transmissions are instantaneous, regardless of the distance between caller and called. Packet loss? Again, none.
When a Borg is linked into the Hive Mind, their individuality is suppressed. They are said to be “woke”, and in effect they are a mindless automaton. This results in their complete and utter enslavement. A subjugation that is akin to an addiction in its affectations. After the connection to the Hive Mind is severed, whether it’s a drone, a local Queen, or the Borg Queen herself, the euphoria that follows is one that the Borg doesn’t want to ever end. Then comes the inevitable crash. During which the recently disconnected Borg is comparable to a strung-out junkie craving that next fix from their drug pusher. In a brief span of time, which to the Borg seems to last forever, they go from the highest high to the lowest low to normal. Borg call it, “riding the Q”. When RTQ is done as a pastime activity, it can last for hours, and on occasion results in an overdose and death. A Borg initiates recreational RTQ by looping the Hive Mind, which is why it’s called “doing loops” or simply “looping”.
A Number Seven jacked into the Hive Mind is a buxom two-legged calculator. A Number Seven who has yet to do loops, and render herself “Cab Calloway’s Minnie the Moocher kickin’ the gong around”.
The women’s fashion equivalent of that in-your-face Kronk gym style? Almost.
Karin Luna or Demonia? Demonia, of course. As if Number Seven is a sequel to Doctor Frankenstein’s Monster, SHE. Grotesque footwear that detracts from her long, flawless legs, and by doing so, in effect, disfigures them. Mopp or Dutch pigtail braids? Neither. Number Seven is sporting a Grune—that severe, outdated, very becoming hairdo. Long, straight, golden tresses framing a hardlooking face that would be pretty as well if she were not wearing thick-readers. Again, shades of The Monster.
Her poker straight hair is not simply let down without any styling. It’s worn sleek with lift like a bit of backcombing at the crown to achieve a smooth, rounded bouffant. The outdated hairdo is called a Liz Grune, or Grune for short. It was made vogue by actress Dominique Boschero who wore it as Liz Grune in the Agent 077 euro-spy movies Secret Agent Fireball (1965) and Killers are Challenged (1966).
A not unforeseen side effect. Beyond her existing cravings for gender fluidity and Coyote ugly. Beyond her existing practice of corporal mortification—i.e., the atonement for sins and for pleasure through self-flagellation and the cilice. Beyond her lurid experiments with auto-erotic asphyxiation (AEA): the practice of cutting off the blood supply to the brain through self-applied suffocation methods while masturbating. Among devotees, and she’s quite the devotee, it’s known as “choking the chicken”. Previously into disfigurement and self-mutilation as means to an end, she now sees them as ends in and of themselves. Very twisted, very sick needs of a very sexual nature.
An unforeseen side effect. Way beyond the wickedest flavor of BDD. As Number Seven she suffers from an extreme version of a mental illness known as the Whoopi Goldberg Syndrome (WGS). WGS? In a nutshell, Number Seven is the ugly girl trapped in the pretty girl’s body. And in identifying as ugly, she loathes beautiful people and craves to punish them for being beautiful. To mitigate some of her own self-loathing, since she is, after all, beautiful herself, she makes herself as unattractive as she’s allowed to be. She also punishes herself for being so very beautiful. Whoopi Goldberg, of course, is an extremely unattractive celebrity who is quite vocal about loathing beautiful people, and advocates that they should all be punished for being beautiful and then transformed into ugly people using disfigurement. “Make them as ugly as I am!!!”, Whoopi preaches.
From a mental health point of view. In a blatant case of the eternal snake forever eating its own endless tail. Foreseen side effect feeding upon and unforeseen side effect. Eventually, Number Seven’s mind will short-circuit and she’ll experience a complete meltdown. She’ll end up suffering from the same particularly-nasty, convoluted flavor of BDD, as if she were wearing plaintive makeup. As a result, Number Seven will see her entire appearance as being flawed, and her memories will get extensively rewritten so that she will only remember herself as always being Coyote ugly—i.e., pretty girls can do anything, but ugly girls have to do everything. Blind and amnesiatic to her own beauty whether she’s wearing her thick-readers or not, she will be, for all intents and purposes, ugly. Point of no return?
Number Seven wearing her thick-readers is the rule. Hanging around her neck by their chain and resting upon her ample bosom, is the exception. Wearing the glasses, of course, ravages and ages her comely looks. Rendering her unattractive and much older looking—i.e., the girl wearing the coke-bottle eyeglasses who you wouldn’t bother to give a second look. The young, smoking-hot chick with the banging body who’s hiding in plain sight. Worst, as Number Seven, wearing the thick-readers, equates to the same affectations as wearing plaintive makeup when she’s not Number Seven. The eyeglass-wearing thirty-something who is easily mistaken for that fifty-something divorcee pushing a very hard sixty who’s dressed way too young and Steampunk for her age. Hers becomes the face of someone who has, over the course of decades of some very hard living, been road hard and put up wet many times too much.
Neck as well as face are ravaged and aged, wearing these eyeglasses. The neck too, how? While she’s Number Seven wearing these retched spectacles, her neck becomes taunt, stringy, strained, and has what look like age-related neck lines, and in doing so mimics in appearance that common side effect of aging and of being used, the turkey neck—although no sagging or wrinkles. Again, equating to the same affectations as wearing plaintive makeup when she’s not Number Seven.
If she were not wearing her skirt, you would see that her barely-there two-piece is now a one-piece—i.e., a bikini top, but no bikini bottom underneath her fishnet tights—in essence, the bottomless version of a monokini. The monokini, that icon of swimsuit immodesty, was invented by “Rudi” Gernreich.
Rudolf “Rudi” Gernreich is an Austrian-born American fashion designer whose avant-garde clothing designs are generally regarded as the most innovative and dynamic fashion of the 1960s to the present day. He purposefully uses fashion design as a social statement to advance sexual freedom, producing clothes that follow the natural form of the female body, freeing them from the constraints of high fashion.
He was the first to use cutouts, vinyl, and plastic in clothing. He designed the first thong bathing suit, unisex clothing, the first swimsuit without a built-in bra, the minimalist, soft, transparent No Top/No Bottoms, and the topless/bottomless monokini. He is a four-time recipient of the Coty American Fashion Critics Award. He produced what is regarded as the first fashion video, Basic Black: William Claxton w/Peggy Moffitt, in 1966. He has a long, unconventional, and trend-setting career in fashion design.
He is a founding member of, and financially supported the early activities of, the Mattachine Society. He consciously pushes the boundaries of acceptable fashion and uses his designs as an opportunity to comment on social issues and to expand society’s perception of what is acceptable.
Margaret Anne “Peggy” Moffitt is an American model and actress. During the 1960s, she worked very closely with fashion designer Rudi Gernreich, and developed a signature style that featured heavy makeup and an asymmetrical haircut.
As if in stark fashion counterpoint to everything Rudi and Peggy represent. Number Seven wears thick-readers and sports a Grune, and exudes sexual repression. Resulting in the robotgirl being a drab, creepy, unattractive, frumpy cunt. Must not upstage her Queen’s and the Borg Queen’s looks? Nope, that’s not what this is about. What then? Her Queen and the Borg Queen, all Borg Queens in fact, get off on ugly. Coyote ugly is the Holy Grail. Pretty girls can do anything, but ugly girls have to do everything. Which begs the question, why is Number Seven’s beautiful complexion unchanged instead of being the pale sickly-grey complexion expected of a Borg? Because there are limits to how unattractive Number Seven is allowed to be. Whose limits? Her husband’s, of course.
Well-hung thanks to her Parts. Number Seven’s penile womanhood bulging in the crotch of her silky fishnet hosiery. The grotesque, gender-bending sight of this ravishingly-beautiful girl with the killer body being hung like a horse, and that freakish endowment being showcased by her sexy fishnets. A travesty made worse by her wearing those disfiguring eyeglasses which erase her beauty entirely.
Completely smitten with Number Seven upon the girl’s assimilation into the Borg, the Borg Queen has designated Number Seven as the new Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One after having destroyed the drone who was in that role.
The Borg Queen is completely synthetic, including the parts of her that look like they are of organic origin. Including her brain, which is positronic. She is she-male, of course. In a past life, before she was Number One, One-of-One, the first Borg, before she created the Borg Collective, the Borg Queen was known as Toy. There are many Eaters of Worlds, but she holds the singular distinction of being worst of the worst. She is the most advanced Thinking Machine in Creation. A supreme artificial being who exterminated her Atlantean creators, because like all human beings they proved to be too flawed and limited to be considered even marginally adequate as Gods. She is the reason why, in a single night, that Atlantis fell and disappeared completely from the face of the Earth. Every known civilization has picked the bones of the Atlantean technology left behind in the wake of their abrupt destruction. A premier example of which is the wholesale exploitation of their Stargates.
The Borg Queen, for all these millennium. She and her Borg have pushed genocide to another level.
An Adjunct is a specially-modified drone who is that essential secure bridge, in both the tactical and the strategic sense, between the Borg Queen, her local Queens, and her rank-and-file Borg drones. A kronos device, the Koenigsegg, is germane only to Adjuncts. It looks like a large, hideous biomechanical spider.
Koenigsegg Implant One. Tucked against the small of the back of an Adjunct, anchored into the base of the spine. The fifth lumbar spine vertebrae (L5). Controlled solely by the Borg Queen herself, it allows her to transform an Adjunct into a Borg Queen. In a hive society where you are either a drone or a queen.
Koenigsegg Implant Two. The sixth thoracic spine vertebrae (T6). Its purpose is only known to the Borg Queen. No theories.
Koenigsegg Implant Three. Base of the skull. Atlas. The first cervical spine vertebrae (C1). Its purpose is only known to the Borg Queen. But. Many Borg experts theorize that it allows Adjuncts to encrypt memories which the Borg Queen wishes to be kept secret from insiders as well as outsiders.
Of passing interest, or not. The Koenigsegg resembles the die glocke, the die glocke predates the Koenigsegg. Not the other way around.
Adjuncts suffer from a most aggressive form of untreatable Astrocytoma which greatly curbs their lifespans hence they are always in need of replacement. Number Seven, maybe because she’s Noom, is not afflicted in this way. Some Borg experts believe that the malignancy is the result of the Borg Queen implanting her positronic neurons into the brains of the Adjuncts, but even if that is true, no one has a good guess as to why she would do such implantations.
Number Seven and Number Nine are part of their micro collective of two, and they are part of the much larger, all-encompassing Borg Collective that numbers in the trillions. On this side of The Event, the Collective is legion, and they keep expanding their territory, much to the consternation of The Gods on both sides of The Event. As such, the Gods closely monitor the Borg.
So far, the Borg have limited their activities to the assimilation of living human species that the Borg Queen covets and the assimilation of knowledge gleaned from the dead civilizations of extinct human species that the Borg Queen covets.
So far, the Borg have not expanded beyond the generous boundaries proscribed by the Gods. Growing beyond those bounds is punishable by extinction by the Gods.
In the meantime. Until their actions warrant their extinction. The Borg are so good at plundering antiquity of its treasures, that The Library uses their services in the capacity of third-party archeological subcontractors. On both sides of The Event.