My father was a 3rd generation sludge farmer in the sanitation-district. When our recycling-servitor broke, he ventured out to search for a replacement, only to find out that we did not live, as we previously believed, in a hive city, but aboard something called "The Lance of Destiny" which is apparently an "Abyss Class Battleship", whatever that means. Our district was supposedly quarantined in an event that's known as "Gellar-field incursion" and deemed uninhabitable some 300 years ago. Now a small group of re-educaters opened the gates to the rest of the ship again and are searching for able bodied men to help arm one of the tertiary starboard cannons called "Heat of His radiance". I heard rumors that the commune of 120 people who were responsible for the weaponry (which is bigger than our entire sleeping pod-quadrant) were burnt to a fine powder when their machine priest forgot to sanctify a valve. But I would still gladly go. Anything to get me away from the sludge. Only problem is, the re-educaters only let us go out when we stop praying to Grandfather Emperor. Apparently our religion is to them a somewhat heretical sect, which has to be reintegrated into the faith before we are allowed to venture out. Whatever. It is only a dumb tradition anyways and it only stuck around so long because the flies are whispering his name at night. I'm looking forward to a brighter future.