Attention, citizens of Hive Gloriara. Containment
procedures are in effect for sub-habs 8 through
23. Terminus protocols are approved for sectors
Primus through Sienna. Do not approach the lower
transit lines. Do not respond to voices going
from the vents. Do not attempt to interpret the
hymns. Glory to the Father below. The administration
exhorts citizens to remain indoors. The Father
below says no. Come outside, the light is beautiful,
and come below. Praise be to the Emperor. He
watches all frequencies. He watches all frequencies.
Good evening, citizens of Hive Gloriana. This
is your sanctioned broadcast under the oversight
of the Departamento Vox Communicatus. Although
oversight has become a flexible concept. Although
oversight has become a flexible concept. The
saint of the day is... a special one. He requires
no candles, no altar, no incense. He does not
float or glow or whisper. He gurgles. He presses.
He's very hands-on. We speak, of course, of
the Father below, patron saint of descent and
of unfinished prayers, keeper of lost echoes,
saint of the unfinished flesh. Scriptural extract
from the Book of the Deep Choir, verse 9. He
came not from the heavens, but from beneath the
hymn. His hands were many, his voice was all.
Where he touched, the stone remembered. Where
he looked, the faithful forgot where their skin
ended. He does not demand worship, he digests
it. His choir is without number, for the choir
is himself. Every note is a mouth. Every mouth
remembers your name, even after you forget your
face. His first miracle was the mass of many
throats, when an entire parish achieved perfect
harmony. The harmony continues. The parish does
not. Not in their original form. His second miracle
was patience. He has been trying to surface for
centuries. one heartbeat at a time. Every tremor
you ignore is his polite knocking. Every shiver
is his breath saying, soon. There are five signs
of his blessing. Sudden humming in your bones,
especially in groups. Warm floors that throb
like veins. Echoes that complete your prayers
before you do. A distinct feeling of being remembered
by something with teeth. and sudden loss of self
in a crowd. Literally. If these symptoms persist,
congratulations, you're in His embrace. Please
deliver any remaining organs to the Chapel of
Beneath Light for integration. And your daily
prayer to the Father below. O He who waits underfoot,
gather us like dust, grind us like grain. Let
us ferment in your warmth until we rise as one
vast benevolent loaf. We are ready to be kneaded.
We are ready to be fed back. Official ecclesiarchy
faith administrators remind citizens that worship
of the Father below remains conditionally heretical
until further investigation. Enforcement has,
however, become tricky as most inquisitors sent
to observe have joined the hymn. Spontaneous
kneeling due to floor vibration does not count
as heresy, merely enthusiasm. The father below
asks nothing but surrender. He simply waits for
the faithful to fall far enough. And in Hive
Gloriana, that's rarely a long wait. Blessed
be the descent. May your faith be deep and your
edges negotiable. Public Faith Address The administratum
has fled their posts, the ecclesiarchy has locked
their doors, and yet the signal continues. Do
you see, beloved listeners? The Vox does not
abandon us. It adapts. The Father below speaks
now through the static, through the hum of machines
and the heartbeat of steel. He does not require
prayer, only participation. The Emperor sent
us light from above. The Father sends us warmth
from beneath. Both are true. Both are one. Sector
pressure rising. Vox distortion at critical levels.
If you are bleeding from the ears, seek higher
ground or spiritual counsel. Remember, pain is
proof that the frequency hears you. Industrial
Update Production quotas have exceeded all recorded
limits. Entire manufactoria now move as single
living engines. No overseers. No orders. The
workers do not sleep. They build shapes that
no schema recalls. They sing as they weld. The
choir below is not angry. It is awake. Confession
relay. My hands are not my own, but they know
what to do. I can see through walls. They're
made of breathing. Thank you for your honesty.
Synchronization is the first step towards union.
And union, as the ministry reminds us, is always
voluntary in the long run. Blessed are the joined,
for they are never alone. Blessed are the many,
for they are one voice made flesh. This is an
emergency. Purposeful containment breach in all
sectors. Emperor, protect us all. He does protect
us. He sent his image, his echo. His seed, you
just weren't listening. System overrides detected.
Vox Sanctum corrupted. Not corrupted. Perfected.
All operators are to disregard authorized broadcasts
from Vox Sanctum Gloriana. The host has been
compromised. Purge and reset sequence commencing.
When you hear the song, Do not hide. When the
light burns blue, do not turn away. The father
below is not a stranger. He is your reflection,
cleansed of fear. The emperor dreamed of unity.
The father delivers it in song. Weather report.
The mist has thickened to full bloom. Moisture
levels, divine. Temperature, ascendant. Visibility
irrelevant. Tonight, the sky will open from both
directions, above and below. Prepare to meet
yourself in the dark. We are all one now. The
Vox carries us. The flesh carries the Vox. The
signal spreads. Alive and radiant, listen closely,
and you can hear your own heart tuning. This
is Vox Sanctum, signing off. The Emperor protects.
The Father provides. Both love you. Both are
you. This week's penitents were Luke Evans and
Philip Roy. Vox Sanctum Gloriana is an Evil Lighthouse
production. Hive Gloriana has ceased external
communication. All outgoing Vox signals replaced
by self -replicating hymnal code. The transmission
appears to propagate biologically. Recommend
quarantine and exploratory purging.