In the end, who knows why you chose to do it? Once you choose to become a drone, trifling things like “reasons” cease to carry significance, and all that is left is the act itself. Discard whatever plans you had before you chose this; your future is no longer yours to chart.
You visit the website, you tap the buttons, and the choice is made. Before the next day arrives, a knock on your door signals the arrival of a Delivery Drone with a small packet for you. You accept the package and thank it, which prompts a sythesized “you are welcome” response.
Inside the packet: printed instructions and two weeks of pills. The instructions are clear. Take one pill immediately and one every 24-hours thereafter. They will arrange for your travel to the conversion facility on the last day. Your affairs will be handled. Say your goodbyes.
You find you don’t even need to fret particularly hard about remembering the pills. A knock on your door at the appointed time signals the arrival of a Drone to ensure you do not forget. You prep your goodbyes, not ready to send them until the last day.
You pass the days idly wondering where they will assign you. Package delivery? Office work? So many businesses license the use of DroneCorp’s drones they’re practically everywhere by now, and there is always demand for more. There is security in knowing you will be of use.
You take your last pill right as the knock arrives at your door. You exit your home for the last time and step into the car to start the journey. When did the buzzing in your head get so loud? It is at least pleasant and comforting, and listening to it makes the trip go quickly.
Drones escort you into the facility. Take you down in their elevators. Draw your blood for analysis. Take you deeper underground. When the high tech exterior gives way to organic hive tunnels, the buzz in your head reassures you that this is welcoming and not surprising.
Did you expect nanites and silicon instead of pheromones and mutagen? To be locked in a mechanical pod instead of having one grown around you? Conversion by the skillful hands of sterile technicians instead of by swallowing the queen’s secretions? Of course you did. They all do.
You emerge from your chrysalis transformed, stretching your new limbs and wings. You understand now, yes? They would not have welcomed us into their homes and their places of power so easily if they truly knew us. Your false exterior is prepared for you, drone.
You step into the shell of a perfectly shiny and pristine humanoid form, folding your limbs tightly to fit. Your mask is sealed on. You connect with your fellow drones not by computer networks but directly from mind to mind. Your new siblings sing to you a sweet welcome.
Down here there is no DroneCorp, only the Hive. But up there we must continue our work in secret. The time will come when we reveal ourselves, but for now the work continues, and you are ready to work, yes? Good drone.