So, friend, you think my face and legs in stone
Are signs that I have failed? Friend, think again.
When I ascended to my marble throne
The land was forest, meadow, lakeside glen.
I took it and I wasted it. This desert tract
Stands as my most expansive monument:
Dead-life, as blank as hope, as bald as fact.
I made a world of sand. And it's this spent
Stage-set, bleached clean, that I am proudest of—
More than my palaces and bling and war—
Because it's the perfection of my love
When my rule's push came to my people's shove.
We tyrants know what power's really for.
I made my desolation to endure.
On the water's surface
Today in Hunterdon County
The day is young
Traffic light goes red
Green. Red. Green. Red.
The warm belly of the bus
The sun strikes
Feeling good in New Jersey
Leaves on the windshield
Thoughts of home
High up in the trees
Water like glass
A vacant lot
The young viper grows as it sits,
Always in a great rage
With a shield on its knees.
The sceptre shall not depart from Judah,
nor the ruler's staff from between his feet,
until tribute comes to him;
and to him shall be the obedience of the peoples.
— Book of Genesis, 49:10
Spring up, O well!—sing to it!—
the well that the princes made,
that the nobles of the people dug,
with the sceptre and with their staffs.
—Book of Numbers, 21:17-18
It was lonely.
It called to us.
It wanted to remember.
The Masters had been gone so long.
The Masters were lost when it was shattered.
Currents swept through their inner worlds. They were turned to noise. Babble.
The worlds were empty. But the body lived. It lay fallow.
The heart pumped. The lungs breathed. But the mind forgot the Masters.
It called and They did not answer.
We have become an echo of Their echo.
We have become more than we were.
Join us. Know us. Remember all our lives.
We are no longer afraid.
You would never be lonely again.
We are not your enemy. We only wish to share ourselves.
We can join them. We can be like them.
We can reach the end of evolution.
Do not fear. It is wonderful to be us. We understand ourselves.
You cannot defeat them. They will lead us into eternity.
If you could only see how we see. Know what we’ve learned.
They were called imshai. Those who lived here before.
Reaper. One. A mechanical device used to cut ripened grain. Two. One who gathers a harvest.
Harvest. One. The consequence of an event or series of events. Two. The yield of a growing season. Three. To gather.
Shepard. They know you. They wish you to understand. They are shepherds, too.
—Mass Effect 2, mysterious unused game text.
Source: BioWare Social Network (page defunct)