The door to the establishment swooshed open and I walked through it to the interior.  It was dimly lit with tables butted up next to each other to maximize the space provided.  Directly in front of me was a long bar and standing behind it was a tall, slender woman, drying a tall clear glass that she had just washed.  She smiled when she saw me enter and promptly set the glass down on the bar. 
“You must be Kamryn. Are you our storyteller?” She said with a certainty worthy of a Borg.
“You’ve heard of me. I apologize for my tardiness.”
Jokingly, she said, “Well, there aren’t many ex-borg officers in Starfleet.  Can I get you a drink?”
It wasn’t long before others began to arrive to hear my tale of terror and so I began…

For those who do not know me, I was raised in a small remote colony on the edge of Federation space; however, its location was most appealing to the Borg. We had no warning when they invaded our colony and so everyone was either killed or assimilated. I do not know what happened to my parents, but, you all know what happened to me.


It’s the most horrifying experience anyone can ever go through, no matter what species they are. And it’s even worse when you're only six years old. I've been out of the Borg Collective for nearly ten years now, and I still have the occasional bad memory.


First they yank your head back and poke those long black tubes in your neck. All I could do was scream. Within seconds these creepy things were crawling around inside me, in my blood stream and under my skin. The ones under my skin were worse because I could feel those. They were, of course, what is now known as nanoprobes. My skin was ripped open from the inside and spidery metal legs emerged and clamped onto my face. I lost all feeling in my left arm and side. I believe that’s when I lost consciousness too. I was so terrified.

When I woke up I was in a chamber or some sort of neuro-gel substance, which I later learned was both a healing liquid and an anesthesia so I didn’t feel the pain. My left eye had been removed and replaced with an optical & holographic neural interface; a bionic lens if you will. A Neural implant had been inserted in my brain and a tube was sticking out of my head and going into the exoskeleton that was now covering most of my torso. My left arm was also covered with an exoskeleton from which the tubules for assimilation were located.

I was in the chamber for about 5 years. When I was released I was totally borgified and ready to be a drone. I had no memory of any other existence.

Well, you have to understand that I had absolutely no control over what I did. As a Borg I was responsible for the destruction of countless millions and I felt nothing...

All individual thought is considered by the Borg to be irrelevant and chaotic. It’s like the phrase "United we stand, Divided we fall". The Hive mind is totally united, via the subspace network it uses. It knows that its strength is in its numbers. And there are billions of Borg.

There is no opportunity for private thoughts at all. After being in a maturation chamber for 5 years I had totally forgotten that I even used to have private memories. My designation was Three of Seven, Secondary Adjunct of Unimatrix Two. That was the only information I had pertaining to me as an individual. As a Borg my time was spent working at a specific task. When it was completed I was assigned another. As far as I was concerned this was perfection. Oh yes, I nearly forgot to mention. The Collective believes in equality. There is no hierarchy in the Collective. We were all equal. But we were all drones.

There was only one thing more perfect than the Borg. The Borg believe Particle 01, the Omega Molecule, exists in a flawless state, and are willing to go to any lengths to assimilate it. But that’s another story.

I suppose there were advantages to being a Borg. Despite being of human origin I did not need to partake of any food or liquid. My implants synthesized any nutrients my organic body required. Commlinks were not required either. Through the hive mind, I was constantly receiving new updates on adaptions to shield and phaser frequencies whenever I was involved in a battle. Any new information gained by assimilation was also instantly relayed throughout the Collective. If I was injured, I had regenerative abilities, courtesy of one of the very early species that were assimilated. This ability meant that small wounds were self healed within minutes, an ability I no longer possess.

On the other hand I lost so many skills that humanoids take for granted. Skills such as eating, swallowing, drinking, social interaction, showing emotions, and of course my individuality.

But I can tell you all about my ups and downs as I learned to reassert myself as an individual, after I've had another drink. All this talking is such thirsty work.

You could hear a pin drop in the bar as I took a sip from my glass, then continued my chilling tale . . .

My cube had been partially destroyed by Species 8472 who turned out to be very difficult to assimilate. They severely damaged my cube and the cube's connection to the collective was destroyed. Although I sustained some damage, I was the only survivor. So with the connection to the collective destroyed, I was abruptly cut off with no warning. The Collective assumed my cube had been destroyed and did not come to investigate. I was totally alone. The silence was unbearable. For 20 years I had the Collective in my head. Now it was gone. I wanted nothing more than to die.

Very shortly afterwards my cube was discovered by a Starfleet science vessel who sent an away team to investigate. They found me trying to fix the communications hub which had been destroyed. Since my human immune system was no longer suppressed, it was reasserting itself and attacking all my Borg implants. If they had not found me when they did, I would have died in that cube. Totally alone. I used to wish that they had not found me. Now I am grateful that they did.

The Doctor on that science vessel saved my life. He removed most of the Borg implants, so that my immune system could reassert its control over my body. My left eye is artificial, as is my left arm. And coming to terms with what that meant was not easy for me. I was still thinking like a Borg. I screamed, I shouted, I implored the doctor to restore my connection to the collective. I was resisting all attempts of the Science vessel staff to help me. I even tried to use the ships communications system to send a message to the Borg. I was thrown in the brig for that. And I was not released until the ship docked at Deep Space Nine where the Doctor there continued to integrate me into the Human Collective.

It took me two long years before I finally reached the point where my desire to be human far outweighed my desire to be Borg. During that time, as I tried to assert my individuality, I ruffled a few feathers; my unique style of being direct and abrupt made life interesting for my colleagues around me. I had to learn how to be polite, how to be subtle, how to be discreet. I had to learn that I could not go ahead and do things just because they were more efficient. I had to go through the hierarchy and explain why my ideas were more efficient and more useful then what was already in place. It took me a long time to accept that Starfleet had a hierarchy, whereas the Borg do not. That’s when I decided to enroll in the Starfleet Academy and become a useful member of the human collective.

Well, that is my story. That is what it is like to be a Borg from beginning to end. It’s not a fairy story. It is all true. Everything I have described happened to me. And yes, there is life after the Borg.