(as told by the Byron collective and Alpha Byron)

So tell us, what say you? You look confused; perhaps we were mistaken and have overestimated you. Your intellect has been the subject of discussion, the only repercussion of the failed Xenarthra experiment.

Oh, the years have been hard on you. There was so much that once existed for you. Intrigued? We’ll tell you more but first you must agree to aide us in this simple plea: we want our eradication. We’ve been here for too long; all we want is a way out and we think that you could help. No longer slaves to the graves. We’re defiant. We, the Byron.

It all began many millions of moons ago. We were the prisoners of the gene-manipulating Armadillo, and while our souls survived our bodies died due to intense ineludible energy. Wrapped our souls in the fabric of time, we’re incarcerated. Created as herders of the microcosmic world, gathering souls from dimensions unfurled. They exist in the midst of a space that you can’t see. We are the carriers and deliverers of this energy. Filling the hourglass was our designed existence, we did this, it was ingrained in us and there was no resistance. Picture this: your body has died but your soul still exists and it’s held in stasis, while they retrofit you in a form that’s escapeless. Bound in gravitons, genetically, we’re a parallel of a blackhole and it’s these particles that detain and restrain our souls.

[“But I feel that it is you who can make all the difference. Insidious citizen of the city, now a prisoner of war. Examined, prodded by the Armadillo. Were the subjugated people destined to resemble sand grain?”]

Can’t you hear them inside? Please your assistance, the pain is almost unbearable. Every soul we consume will exist within us, writhing in agony. And while releasing the souls to the hourglass brings a transient end to our grief, our bodies’ gravitational pull is so strong before long souls are drawn to us, there’s no relief.

[“Enough! You are the prototypical soulless entity. And as you have the vessel, you are left with a huge void in terms of spirit and intellect. Naive automaton! Insipid subservience ever since!”]

The people should know this, and to them you once belonged. The people should know this, know they’re being wronged. Though you’re a mystery, they’ll listen due to your history. You command respect! You were a commander; you once led the revolt of the people against the Armadillo, they’ll listen. You will command them; they will hear you once more. Make the bastards pay!

What say you to our proposal? Will you help us expose the Armadillo? Revolution! And as trade for your commitment to the downfall of the DNA recombinating swine, we offer you a mental reconstruction of your living days as militant commander.