onetwothreewhatever
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"If this is the teaching or work of men, it will come to an end. But if it is of God, you cannot stop these men. You might even be fighting against God!"
"Yeah, roight."
Tokyo-3 (NERV Control Center) 6-28-2015 "Super-cooling completed." "R-wrist restraint completed." "Ready to dock the containment chamber." "Termination signal plug discharged." "Roger. Insert entry plug." "Plug secured." "Inititate primary psyche contact." "Entry plug LCL injection." "Roger. Injecting LCL." "Completed. Connect to main energy supply system." "Connecting . . . completed." "Power source ready, connecting to all circuits." "Roger." "Initate secondary psyche contact." "A10 nerve connection functional." "Thought pattern set to Japanese." "No problems with the initial psyche contact." "Initiate two-way psyche contact." "Two-way circuit ready."
Tokyo (Ruins of an unknown hospital) 9-15-2000 Dawn. The woman leaned against a broken wall, holding a newborn. It was hers. No doctor had helped her. No midwife. They were probably all dead by now. It was hers. What should have been happinessm however, was not. The father was dead. The senshi had done everything they could to save him. But . . . They were dead, now. They died several minutes after the building had fallen. She had seen them die. The remains of one was a few inches away from her now. It, or she, or whatever it had been, had died saving her baby from a falling piece of wreckage. The piece of wreckage in question was about the size of an industrial trailer. She had always thought the senshi weren't human. Now she knew. When they died, they turned into puddles of water. This one certainly had, and anything that could do that couldn't have possibly be human. There was a small gadget that looked like a pair of sunglasses in the puddle. A sort of relic. It was holy. It had given her everything she had now. She reached out toward it. Touch.
Tokyo-3 (NERV Control Center) 6-28-2015 "Synchronization rate is 86.2%." "Impossible," said Ritsuko. "How can he . . . "
She was cut off by the klaxons of the alarm.
"Bring entry-plug interior to display," said Usagi
"What?"
"What in the world? Is it the angel?" "Give me the source of the AT-field." "It's comming from the entry plug." "That's . . . "
Ritsuko couldn't find the word she wanted.
Tokyo-2 (Umezawa Memorial Psychiatric Ward) 3-3-2003 There was a little song, from an anime drawn in the eighties. A catchy little tune, but you can ignore it for now. It does get a little annoying after a while. ~//I'll be holding, never let you go//~ There was laughterm and there were tears. The laughter came because a girl remembered happy times. The tears? The tears were there because a woman remembered the loss of that happiness. ~//sail away for future//~ And there was the rain. A sea of rain. It sounded as if the parking lor ouside was one huge frying pan, sizzling furiously away on a day so cloudy, it looked to be night. As they say, "The darkest hour is that before the dawn." It was one in the afternoon. Not quite dawn yet. ~//Come together! Just think of tommorrow!//~ There were eyes. Two pairs. One pair was shut, filled with the tears of laughter. The owner was a teeenage girl who remmebered too much and could forget nothing. The other pair was open, dry from staring too long at somthing the owner couldn't quite place. It was the eyes of a young boy, a boy who remembered nothing and had forgotten too much. They were red. Everybody has tears. Whether they comeout of not is a different matter. The song ended with the owrds, "Liftoff." After a moment, there was a little beeping sound. The closed eyes opened. "Do what you want, the way you want to," said a man. The old, dusty VCR cranked to a stop. The automatic rewind kicked in, and there was the whirring sound of the tape spinning backwards. The eyes met. For a long time. The red pair closed, and there was the sound of a body slumping to the ground. The girl stared, shivering a little at what she'd just seen.
Tokyo-3 (NERV Control Center) 6-28-2015 Ritsuko put her hands to her face. Usagi eyed her for a moment, then turned to the screen. "Bring the pilot to the screen."
Tokyo-3 "I don't want to be important when I grow up. Dreams, hopes . . . I have no use for such things. Never thought about them. Don't need to." "If anybody ever thought it fit to ask me why this is, my answer would be simple. Why not? If I die in some accident, it probably won't matter very much. Nobody would care. If you told someone about me they'd shrug, then say something to the effect of, 'These kids nowadays. What are we going to do about them?' I'm not a real person to these people." "And so, I'm fourteen. I work just hard enough to get by. Why work any harder? The end result would be the same." "The teacher gave us an assignment a few months ago. The instructions were to write about our 'deepest and most sincere beliefs about life.' I failed the assignment." "And now . . . " "Now I'm in a bed I've never slept in before, staring at a ceiling I've never seen. There's a stong smell of disinfectant in the air, and I'm covered in bandages. Either I'm in a hospital or . . . " "Or they have some pretty strange customs in this city." "I can't move without feeling the rest of my body, and I can't feel the rest of my bosy without hurting. It's all numb . . . until I try lifting my index finger. What happens then is that I get a taste of what all those poor witches had to go through in medieval Europe. I've come to respect witches in the past half-hour." "It's a blessing that I can move my eyes without hurting. I can at least see where father's dumped me this time. I suppose flowers were too much to expect." "At least it's a hospital. I mean. I haven't been left to die. It means that I'm important enought to be kept alive. Not to mention that it's a clean hospital. Then again, father probably wouldn't have it any other way. Dirt is too good for me." "What does all of this prove?" "Not much. Just that my assumptions about life, the universe, and everything are true. No, not much." "I can't remember how I got here. Last thing I remember is looking at the big purple robot. Or whatever it was. Humanoid all-purpose something something. I remember getting on. I remember sitting inside. And then?" "Oh yeah, the dream. Can't forget the dream. There was this really cute girl. Blue hair, red eyes. She was Japanese though. She was looking at me. After a while, she walked towards me. Then through me. That's why I woke up. It's not very nice to walk through people when they're injured." "I guess this is dumb. Speaking to myself inside my head an all that. I'll just be going to sleep now. Maybe when I wake up, I'll actually be able to move a little more than my eyes." "Bye."
Tokyo-2 (Umezawa Memorial Psychiatric Ward) 7-2-2015 It was a relatively young-looking woman, probably a little older than thirty, though her eyes said that she was far older than that. Currently, she was grinning like a maniac. Shoko sighed. It wasn't that she didn't like her job. It was just that it'd be a little more encouraging if her patients didn't come in wearing straightjackets. "Osaka Naru, age 34. Admitted on October nineteenth, the year two thousand and one. Mother of one child, Osaka Hitoshi, father unknown. Is all of this information correct, Ms. Osaka?" "I like this jacket. Can you give me a jacket like this to me? It's really nice and warm." "Um, yes, Ms. Osaka. Now, could you please answer my question." "Um, okay. If you give me this jacket." The woman giggled. "I'll repeat my question, is all of the information I was given correct." "Uh-huh." Another giggle. Shoko paused for a moment to get the woman's attention away from the window. When the pause didn't work as expected, she clapped her hands. "Ms. Osaka." The woman turned back to her. "Yes?" "Yesterday you left our facility and took a train to Tokyo-3. What was the reason behind this action?" "Uh, dunno. If you're so smart why don't you tell me?" Shoko stopped again. This was not what she'd been expecting. "Well, Ms. Osaka. Since I'm asking you, maybe it's because I don't know. I'm trying to find the reason." "Well? . . . Only if you give me this jacket!" "Ms. Osaka. I told you earlier that I'd be willing to give you the jacket if you would answer my questions." "Oh, okay. What question?" "Why did you leave our facility yesterday?" "I was gonna go and meet the queen." Shoko raised an eyebrow. "Who is this. 'queen'." "The queen is the woman that talks to me sometimes when I'm alone." "May I ask, what is she queen of?" "She's the queen of a great kingdom called Tokyo." Shoko smiled. The woman had an imaginary friend. The queen of Tokyo. The idea was kinda cute. "Tell me, what does this queen speak to you about?" "Um . . . she cries sometimes and says I shouldn't deserve this." A mother figure, perhaps? It would make sense, though a bad relationship with a mother figure wasn't on Osaka's record. "What do you think she meant by, 'shouldn't deserve this'?" "Um, dunno." A unconscious thought, perhaps. "Does she say anything else?" "Uh, yeah. She say's she'd find a way." "A way to do what?" "She never said."
Tokyo-3 (NERV Control Center) 6-28-2015 For a moment, all motion ceased. There was no sound in the control center except for the abrout end of the klaxons. All eyes were on the screen, watching the sleeping face of a girl none of them had seen for nearly the whole of the past year. For the techs who had grown indifferent to emotions that should have been behind every word of the commands given to them, there was perhaps a sort of awakening; a revelations of the person behind the purple mask. A mere moment, and they'd forgoteen who they were and what they were doing. Usagi smiled. She snapped her fingers, and the moment ended.
Tokyo-3 (NERV Control Center) 6-29-2015 Room : 446. ID no. : 0001-225-09. Name : Ayanami Rei. Sex : Female. Age : 14. Diagnosis : Unconcious. Muscular stress in all parts of the body, apparently caused by over-exertion. No outward injuries visible. Remedy : Muscle relaxants. Nutrition supplements. Pain-killers. Record : None. Notes : The girl just needs some rest. She should be able to leave the hospital whne she recovers from the effects of the pain-killers. (Special not: The head of the departement has asked that she not be disturbed.)
Tokyo-3 (NERV Control Center) 6-28-2015 "Pilot unconscious. All systems otherwise normal. Synchronization rate 63.1%, pattern green." "Target arriving at immediate contact radius in five seconds." Usagi glanced over to Ritsuko, who was still staring open-mouthed at the screen. "How . . . isn't that Rei?"
Tokyo-3 (Geofront) 7-2-2015 Those who knew him called him Stan the Man, because that's how he introduced himself. It's not his real name, not really . . . But then again, no one actually knows his real name. Most of those who 'knew' himdied a few minutes after he gave his pseudonym. Some of them died with a rubber chicken stuck down their throats. Talk about bad cooking . . . His appearance wasn't especially striking. Or rather, it was, but he somehow blended himself in with the rest of the crowd. It was his hair. Yeah, black, normal for someone Asian. Somwhow it caught the light in a strange way. If you looked at it out of the corner of your eye, it'd look blond. Just an illusion, but he does stand out. When he walks past, people stop and look around, wondering what caught their eye. Of course, it might have been the stench of cigarettes and beer . . . Seen him before? Sure you have. I mean, it might not have been him exactly, but there are plenty of people like him. You know what I mean. "The one who steps from the shadows all trenchcoat and cigarette and arrogance, ready to deal with the madness." Yeah. Him. Bastard ain't he? The problem is, he's always there. It doesn't matter what world you're in, or what job you're doing. There's always him. Or if it's not him, it's someone relatively similar to him. And no matter how many differences there are, one thing'll stay the same: "He'll kick you on the bollocks and spit on you when you're down." And if he's not doing that, then you're doomed. Why? Cause it's bound to happen. Sometime real soon. This one, though. This one is special. This one can actually win a fist fight. Not that it matters. I believe the saying goes, "If you fight and run away, you live to run another day." He had plenty of reasons to run. The police were pretty high on the list. And he didn't run. Mostly. Why run when you can hide? When asked for the best stealth equipment, black market merchants will occasionally show the customers smelly old trenchcoats. Available in beige, beige and beige. Now you know why. Yes. Him. Watch. He's taking somthing out of his coat. Fine place to do it, in the depths of the dark alley. Fits the mood, cause what he's taking out was worn of the darkest emotions. It's a nox of seeds. Simple little thing, really. There are eight of them, and Stan has orders to plant them, each at a specific time. As for the person who'd hired him . . . nice kid. He'd probably grow up to be someone important. Too shy, though. Gotta get out of that stuffy room of his more. The kid was the nerdy type. Probably didn't have a girlfriend. The seeds . . . well? As far as Stan could tell, they were a science project gone way too far. He knew what would happen when he planted them. He knew that he'd have to use that little trick with the trenchcoat to get out alive every time. Stan laughed. "Them wankers are gonna get it good." With a smile, he vanished into the shadows.
Tokyo-3 (Tokyo-3 Military Hospital, NERV Sector) 6-29-2015 "I'm waking up for the second time, I think. Can't be sure. Nevertheless, I'm glad I'm awake. I don't think I could have slept any longer. The dream . . . I don't remember much of the dream I just had. No, I don't mean the one with the girl walking through me. The dream I had, just now. It was . . . I can't describe it. I just have a feeling that it was horrible. A nightmare." "There was . . . I dont' know where it was. It might have been a reflection off water. Part of the reflection was the moon. Wait. It couldn't have been off water. I mean, there was quite obviously light refracting off of somthing moving in waves . . . but . . . The image of the moon stayed still. If it was really a reflection off water, the image of the moon wouldn't have stayed still like that . . . " "I dunno. It was a pretty strange scene. Really dark, so I didn;t see much. I did, however, notice that there was a person floating next to the reflection. Upside-down too. I don't know if it was male or female. Way too dark. It was naked. I think." "Hmm . . . A visit to the head shrink might be in order." "I do think I know where the scene comes from, though. Got it memorised. The Revelation of John, 12-1. 'a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars;'" "The moon was in the dream. Clothed with the sun? The reflections of light off the water. I didn't see any stars though. And I don't know if it's a woman." "Of course, the fact that the woman mentioned in the line is supposed to be pregnant screws the entire theory. The figure definately wasn't pregnant . . . " " . . . can't be sure, though. It might have been early pregnancy . . . and the line doesn't say that the woman in the scene is pregnant while she's in the scene. It just sticks this semicolon in and continues to 'and she was with child.' As far as I know, it could have been a progression of scenes." "Well . . . I guess my aunt's 'Christian educational experience' succeeded. The 'words of God' come to me in my sleep. I didn't like it then. I don't like it now. Like i said, a nightmare." "And I still don't know if my theory is correct or not. If it is, then I really gotta go visit the shrink. I mean, the text from the scene got all twisted. 'the moon under her feet' became 'floated upside-down with feet next to what appears to be a reflection of the moon.'" "If I wasn't crazy, the words wouldn't have gotten jumbled like that . . . " "I'm getting needlessly upset over some jumbled words. God, that's dumb . . . " "On to lighter topics then." "I still can't move. I don't hurt anymore, but all of my muscles feel stiff. Numb, even. It's extreamly tiring tryng to lift an arm, but I can do it with relative ease. I'm just sore afterwards." "I've heard of these things happening before. A classmate of mine broke a leg once. He was in bed for about a month, and when they finally took off the cast, it took some time to 'get used to' being able to use the leg again. 'Course, he was normal again after a few days. The point is that the experiance was, according to his description, just like what I'm going through now. I'm getting used to having a body agian, so to speak." "Hehe. Sounds totally ridiculous." "It's not so ridiculous as the dream . . . still can't remember anthing after the scene" "Or, for that matter, the other dream with the girl."
Tokyo-3 (NERV Control Center) 6-28-2015 "Pilot recovered. Currently being transferred to the medical wing." "AT-field detected. Pattern orange."
"Location?" Gendou eyed the screen. "Designate it as Eve," he said.
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