This one. New Perspective Evangelion.
This chapter has taken about a year to get to this point...character scenes are tough for me, especially since the last part ended. I changed Noriko's viewpoint and psyche in the end of the last chapter, and have been sort of struggling to portray it without seeming too over the top and going too far... or just falling down into the same emotional pit and not acknowledging it. Is it okay for a character to feel happy?
I'm also trying to foreshadow some characters 'fate' later in the story, and have some personal scenes that actually have a point, rather than just existing.
And this is before the meat of the chapter, like drunken Eva pilot partying, a game involving Angel Cards with 'familiar' names, to foreshadow the future, punching an Angel, a high speed run through the city, an astronomically big bang on the other side of the country, and sustained orbital bombardment of the city. This is the one Noriko has to think she can lose.
It's still a little rough, mind... but getting this started is like trying to start a bloody Fiat in the rain.
Getting up in the morning on Sunday was great.
I felt…normal.
I found it hard to think of any other way to describe it. I went through my usual routine, as if I’d been doing it my entire life. The reflection in the mirror had stopped being alien, but now I felt I was actually looking at myself.
The dark-haired girl smiled back at me. A pang of regret hit deep. Not long ago this had been my nightmare. I knew I’d changed. I changed yesterday.
“I am myself,” I said to her. “And myself is always changing,”
Humans are not static creatures. Our likes and dislikes change as we move forward through life. The elements that define us change from minute to minute. Maybe I could argue that the self is the whole continuity of these changes, rather than just a snapshot in time at one moment.
All that continuity still remains a part of me. Everything I am still flows from it. I’ve changed so much, especially in body, but the lineage of self still holds. Noriko’s memories and ideas add more to the self, more changes.
But I’m losing nothing. I’m just gaining more changes. I may have journeyed across time, space and the vast ocean between genders, but the self remains the same across all.
Does that make sense?
The girl in the mirror just gave a puzzled shrug. Philosophy wasn’t my strong point. Something about all that made sense, but not in a way I could write a long essay about.
Yesterday was the day I finally crossed the female even horizon. The wiring upstairs now matched the plumbing downstairs. I’d expected it to be a moment of ultimate despair, a resignation or surrender, a moment to be spent sobbing in a pillow or rocking myself back and forward in a ball of bawling angst.
That was the Evangelion way, after all.
Instead I took the psychological equivalent of a step forward. It was an acceptance, an affirmation of being. I stopped, thought about it and concluded that it was okay for me to be a girl. I wasn’t going to lose myself to my body, that the self was dynamic and changing.
Or something.
Something good.
I watched the girl in the mirror dress herself for her morning run. I was her. I would be her for the rest of her life. Hiroki Nagato was my Father. Megumi Nagato was my mother. Biologically.
And so were my original parents. On that thought, I snapped the bracelet into its proper place on my wrist.
On a whim, thinking back to the Noriko figure, I found a strip of cloth and used it to tie my hair back, Takaya style. Dressed in my normal sportswear, I struck a pose in front of the mirror, crossing my arms under my chest with my bare feet planted far apart.
The image of a strong, athletic young woman smirked back at me. I’d known I was a good looker, but now I felt it. Like Asuka and Rei, I had a body most girls my age would kill for. We were the Pilots, we were the man characters, and fatty tissues tended to expand as they absorbed LCL. I allowed myself a few narcissistic moments, admiring my figure in the mirror. Every little synapse assured that this was my body; this was the person I was supposed to be.
Asuka slept in on Sundays, so I had plenty of time for a little self-service fanservice; the wholesome, confidence boosting and self-affirming kind.
I heard Misato come home from her night’s work, keeping quiet so as not to wake anyone. I heard Pen-Pen waddle out to meet his master. I could hear her coo and cuddle the bird like a favourite toddler. Figuring she’d need the bathroom soon enough… I finished up and stepped outside.
“Morning,”
She looked at me through bleary eyes, pushing a few ragged strands of hair off of her face.
“‘night,” she slurred, her brain already nestled into her bed
One thing.
“Misato,”
“Huh,” she turned back to me.
“Last week. You were right,” I smiled.
She looked at me, trying to figure out what I was talking about. “Oh yeah,” it clicked. “Told you so,”
I had a starchy breakfast with orange juice, before setting off for my morning run. Tokyo-3 early in the morning was almost pleasantly cool. The concrete jungle that normally blistered with heat was still absorbing the morning sun’s rays.
Cartridges broader than I was tall were being loaded into one of the tower blocks by a pair of mobile cranes. Another whole building was being carefully lowered into its socket in the ground, work crews carefully guiding into place. Mechanisms engaged, and the stiff, erect tower slid down into its snug socket.
I ran on, heading downtown towards the lake Ashi.
This was my life now, for the rest of my life. And I actually felt good about it. Until I recalled that, if some people had their way, it wasn't going to be a very long life.
I grimaced, trying to push Third Impact out of my mind. Besides, all I had to do to stop it was beat the harpies that started it. Not hard. Crush the entry plug, crush the core. Game over. Asuka nearly had them beat on her own, didn't she?
I put it out of my mind. I felt too good to let that get me down.
It was funny though, how quickly this had actually happened. Less than two months. While it wasn't quite the 'splort followed by sex' approach taken by so many crappy wish-fulfilment web stories... it was a hell of a lot faster than I'd expected.
Anything sensible I'd looked up, told me it shouldn't have been this easy. To suddenly find yourself in another body, different from the one every spark of your being told you was yours... it should've been a hell of a lot more fucked up.
Truth be told, I wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not that it was so quick. At least I'd been spared the unique hell of spending the rest of my life as a male in a female body. That, I could be grateful for.
I guess I was just disappointed that I didn't put up more of a fight. Biology was an irresistible force.
And what next?
Over the next few weeks or months, Noriko's memory would start to return and mingle with my own. That much was inevitable. I'd remember my friends and hers. I'd remember her parents... her father and mother.
I'd finally realise that they are dead... that I really was an orphan, not just in the way I liked to joke about. When I realised that I really had no-one in this world to turn to, that both my parents were dead and that I'd never see or talk to any of them ever again I'd...
I shot that down quickly.
Couple that with the traditional growing pains of the teenage girl. God help me I was already wondering if I had feelings about Shinji, and what exactly they were. Going through puberty again was going to suck.
Mattariel's remains blocked my usual route... the whole lot was hidden under a prefabricated building while it was torn apart. Another shot of pride sent me running on down to the lake again.
I wasn't just a teenaged girl. I was an EVA Pilot. I was the very best that humanity has to offer, standing between mankind and oblivion. One of the few upon whom the fate of so many depend... to paraphrase.
And I was allowed to be proud of myself for that. I was allowed to enjoy that. I was allowed to be proud of my running ability, and my maths. I was allowed to at least try and be more self confident. I was allowed to like myself.
And I did.
I didn't like myself because I'd been turned into a girl... don't get me wrong. I didn’t like my new gender better than my old one, or immediately feel the female life was superior to the male. None of the things I liked about myself were exclusive to the female species. Being an EVA pilot wasn't, that was a function of parenthood. Being an athlete wasn't, that was just training and little dedication on Noriko's part that I'd taken up. Physics and mathematics was something I'd learned, that was just study and time.
And yes, there were things I liked about being a young woman, the exact same as there were things I did like... and missed quite a bit... about being my old self.
It was okay to be Noriko, it was okay to be this person and be proud of my accomplishments.
I smiled. I'm on a psychological roll, amn't I?
I made it to the lake shore, pausing to rest for a few minutes. A soft mist clung to the water, steadily burning off as the pirate boat was beginning its first tourist run of the day. The black crater blown into one side of Mt Futago sparkled as the sunlight played off a million little glass shards formed as rock melted by Ramiel's blast flash-cooled.
Futagite was a popular souvenir, sold in the old city. Mildy radioactive thanks to NIGA, and with a unique marbled pattern thanks to the various minerals in the soil... it was actually quite beautiful. Most fluoresced green in the dark, thanks to all the depleted uranium dropped into the soil.
The lake was mostly sterile and birds had long since picked off the remains which had washed up. Cicada’s made their presence known solely by the irritating sound they made, while a few rabbits hopped lazily around a clutch of shrubs… sniffing sightlessly as they went about their daily business. One of them nudged at a tarnished shell casing lying beside its burrow, wondering if something inside was edible. Most rabbits in Tokyo-3 were blind… thanks to UN tank crews mucking about with laser rangefinders. It didn’t seem to bother them much.
I turned back to the apartment. The fortress city of Tokyo-3 was waking up too, a few little human touches unfurling like morning flowers in the cracks between the brutal concrete towers. A line of washing shared space with an Evangelion power point.
At street level, colourful shopfronts started to open up for business. A yellow vespa was parked up outside a bakery. There was this weird little frog thing on the footpath outside an apartment building that looked like an idol of Keroru Gunso. Another building beside it had had its top cut clean off.
A few more people appeared. Joggers who had no idea who I was. The odd NERV employee who did waved. I smiled back, appreciating the gesture. A balding old chef swept his restaurant entrance beneath a dirty old pelican mounted on a scaffold.
The poor sods that had Sunday jobs set off to work, some cycling, some walking, some driving jealously maintained pre-impact cars while others had to make do with the traditional post-impact tin box. Public transport was popular for a reason.
An electronics shop was busy showing the morning news on a wall of cheap TV's. It was a story about the oceans or something... a whale was involved. Parked on top of an EVA lift was a cluster of chanting protestors, surrounded by military police while a helicopter thumped overhead.
The city was so much nicer when it was lived in, rather than being a concrete wasteland with a few artificially placed trees. The little touches of humanity made it feel far more welcoming. It was a place where people lived, rather than a setting for a mecha animé.
It was the only home I had.
I kept running, finally starting to feel a little tired. Section two followed from within a blacked out Toyota. I caught my reflection in some glass.
My perspective on myself had changed so much, but the world and the people around it still seemed the exact same. How was that going to change? Changes in myself would naturally bring about changes in how I felt about the world, and how I interacted with it.
It was on one level, fascinating. On another, terrifying.
It was already happening. When I saw Hikari running errands with her sister, I saw ‘just another girl’. The same as me. I waved to her from across the road, and she waved back.
There were other things too. Five kilometres had gone from a long walk, to an easy run. I defaulted to taking the stairs where possible. My definition of ‘tall’ had changed a bit. Misato was now ‘tall’, Misato was also about a hundred and sixty centimetres. I used to be nearly thirty centimetres taller than her.
The pilots where all under one-fifty including me, and I was the eldest and tallest. That was the legacy of being born after Second Impact. Which made it all the more remarkable that I could run like a cat on fire.
And remarkably, I saw myself as being the child born after Second Impact.
That’s who I was.
That was me.
I made it back to the apartment block fresh enough to run all the way up ten floors, then finish with a rake of pushups and situps followed by a few light cooldown exercises. I bounced at the apartment door, triggering a slight Gainax jiggle before sliding my card-key through the slot.
I remembered sitting in Misato’s car, fresh out of the hospital, and just how alien and wrong that bounce had felt. Now it was just annoying… perfectly natural, but still annoying.
The door opened with a whirr, and I stepped inside. The radio was playing cheery pop-music in the kitchen, while I undid the laces on my boots.
“I’m home,” I called out.
“Welcome home,” Shinji’s voice came back. Of course, who else listens to that station?
He was reading a manga while he ate his breakfast at the table… still in his sleeping shorts and t-shirt. What was that he was reading?
He snapped it shut and blushed red. “Morning Noriko,”
Something embarrassing. It was hard not to start giggling.
“Morning Shinji,” I responded with a cheerful smile.
He very carefully hid the manga under one of his hands in a manner he’d hoped would be utterly unnoticeable, but only ended up drawing attention to it. I remembered being in the same position more than once myself, so I just ignored it.
I watched his eyes, run down from my face, along my body before stopping at my backside for half a second. The boy gulped, and looked down at his bowl of miso…
A giddy thrill shot through me… he’d been checking me out. Followed by a rush of nervous nausea… and I’d found it exciting.
“Soup in pot?”
“Unh,” he nodded.
He was there behind me. Shinji the boy. Noriko the girl. I glanced back at him… he was quietly hiding the book, keeping an eye on me to make sure I wasn’t keeping an eye on him. He fumbled and dropped it on the floor with a yelp of fright.
I chuckled lightly to myself.
He frowned.
I could feel that same tension building in my body, that same tightness across my heart being chased up by the same fear that always followed. I am a girl it’s okay for me to be attracted to Shinji, I tried to tell myself… but I just couldn’t believe it.
The idea of finding Shinji attractive….
Of kissing him on his moist lips…
Of taking his clothes off and pressing his body against mine, both of us hot and ready.
It thrilled me. It scared the ever loving crap out of me. It disgusted me to the point that it turned my stomach in sickening loops. In a weird way, it was even reassuring… there were still some final taboos.
Or were they just the natural anxieties of a teenaged girl?
I sat opposite Shinji, still coated with sweat, sipping away at the Miso. Shinji looked up at me, then looked down at his breakfast, then up at me…. Then down. Then up. Like playing paddleball in his mind. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked down again. Looked up once more. Opened his mouth.
Whatever he was trying to say, it was just dying in his throat.
I figured it out. “Oh… sorry. I need shower,”
“No, no!” he waved his hands, “It’s just….” He looked at his shadow in the soup, shamefaced. ….”You seem different,”
“Huh?” I blinked.
“Since yesterday, you seem more relaxed,”
I winced. If Mister too dense to realise how bad Asuka was crushing on him could figure that out?
“Not in a bad way,” he reassured me, “It's just…you seemed so uncomfortable yesterday when you left the school.”
He was worried about me. It was warming, in a strange way.
“My memory,” I half-lied, “Come back. Was a bit shock... but I feel good now,”
“Oh.” A pause. “I don't know how you three can be so strong,” he said. “Asuka, Rei and you... you take it all in your stride,”
A week ago, more or less, I'd been sitting in a heap on the bathroom floor bawling my eyes out for my lost self identity while Misato comforted me.
I shook my head softly, “I do not.”
“But on Thursday... you seemed so confident, so calm”
No I wasn't. I glanced down into my soup, feeling a little ashamed.
“How you feel?”
He blushed again, nervously looking away from me for a moment.
“Scared,” he said, before locking his grey eyes with mine. “That I might make a mistake and get someone killed. That, because of me, everyone might die,” His shoulders dropped beneath the weight of it.
I wanted to tell him how it was perfectly natural for him to feel afraid, how I felt the exact same way, how I was stunned to find that I'd actually come across as in any-way courageous when I was just following my training and trying my damnedest not to fuck up, and that from my perspective he probably seemed just as courageous and assured in the cockpit to me as I did to him.
But, frustratingly, I hadn't a hope of being able to say that.
All I could say was a quiet “Me too,”
“Really?” he blurted out. “But I thought you liked piloting.”
“I do,” I nodded, feeling a familiar tightness grip my body “But still terrified I make mistake,”
The boy smiled lightly at me. That tightness turned to a sickening flutter. I forced myself not to lick my lips as they turned bone-dry... just in case he got the wrong idea. Another part of me started to wonder what his leg might feel like if I just brushed my own against his.
I snapped my gaze away, focusing in on the radio.
“Beatiful Boy,” it sang. “jibun no utsukushisa, mada shiranai no”
I grimaced at its treason, hoping that the song would be interrupted. No such luck, Utada Hikaru just kept on singing.
He looked up at me, wondering just what my problem was.
“It's only love” The radio continued. “nete mo samete mo shounen manga
yume mite bakka, jibun ga suki janai no”
Oh for God's sakes. It's not love. It's annoying.
“What?” Shinji wondered if it was something he'd done.
“I have to shower,” I stated, jumping to my feet. More like I had to get out there before I said something or did something to give him to wrong idea.
The boy watched me practically run to the bathroom, still trying to figure out just what the hell had happened.
I sighed, “I’m being an idiot, amn’t I?”
The reflection in the mirror didn’t answer. But, I had enough self-awareness to at least know what I was doing looked like. I knew what answer Kensuke would give him, if he ever asked. ‘Noriko is tsundere for you Shinji, just like (character) in (animé)’.
No, I’m not. I’m just acting like a child. I’m acting like a normal, ordinary teenage girl. That thought made me chuckle in the shower. Just an ordinary teenage girl, with ordinary teenaged insecurities.
With Asuka sleeping in on Sundays, I had time to enjoy myself and get all nice and clean. I think I figured out the trick to all the shampoos and things. I used the ones that smelled nice, having no idea what they actually did.
Shinji had his book again as I padded past with a towel around my body. Then hid his gaze just as quick. I hurried in to where Asuka was still sleeping, dead to the world on her bed. She was lying on her back, red hair splayed across her pillow.
A flash of memory sent a chill down my spine.
End of Evangelion. I really didn't want to think about that right now. I was in too good a mood. I dressed myself, shuffling into a fresh set of clothes. My taste in fashion hadn't changed.
I left Sorhyu still slumbering, the girl mumbling to herself. Sunday morning animé beckoned. I slid the door shut behind me.
“I guess you expect me to wash your training stuff again,” Shinji said with a bitter resignation.
I smiled shamefully at him, “I not know how,”
His expression soured, “How can you not know how to wash your own clothes?”
Too lazy to bother.
“Never done it. And you make...um... good fabric soften,”
His eyes narrowed.
“Fine....”
I probably should’ve felt guilty, but I didn’t. I sat myself down on the couch and soaked up some post-impact animated culture. Mostly re-runs… one of which caught my attention.
A mixture of Yuusha Raideen, Space Runaway Ideon and Macross, washed through Babylonian Mythology and Snow Crash, Blu Aru was to giant robot shows, what Twin Peaks was to a cop show. Something about it seemed disturbingly familiar, and yet… completely and utterly different.
I promised myself I’d download it when I got the chance, or maybe borrow the boxed set I’d seen at the school club.
Like all mecha animé these days, it was broken by NERV recruitment ads. It asked, what are you doing for the human race? A nice quick injection of pride. I was an Eva Pilot. I saved the world. I was the pointy end of a really long spear made up of all those people giving everything they could, just to get the Evangelion to a point where I might be able to fight with it.
I was probably overdoing it.
With the washing on, Shinji slipped into the bathroom… hoping to get washed and dressed before Asuka finally awoke. From what I guessed, it was something of a passive game of chicken. How long could he leave it, so that he could finish and be done before she was out of bed? How long could he stay in there?
I could hear Sorhyu start to stir. The shower had only stopped for about a minute, Shinji was either brushing his teeth, or shaving. I started to hope Asuka would be awake before he was done.... if only for the entertainment value.
I mused to myself, since when did I become so evil?
It must've been something rubbing off from Misato. Dissapointingly, Shinji won the race, emerging with a towel wrapped around his waist, and a few spots of shaving foam under his ear... and on his leg.
“What?” he questioned.
“Nothing,”
Just a little disappointed, was all. I clicked the television over to the morning news. A bunch of covenanters had blocked an EVA lift. God hates NERV, read one sign. Angels are a blessing from God, read another. They learned the hard way that civil rights stopped at the city limits.
Covenanters were a weird crowd, to say the least. The last time they’d appeared on the news, Misato had gone off on ten minute rant that amazed even Asuka. They were the god-botherers who held to the idea that Second Impact was a result of mankind breaking some ancient covenant with God, so the Almighty took the good with him in the rapturous Impact War, and then sealed himself in heaven forever denying Earth his love.
A man-made hell, they called this world. In the theological sense of being a place free of God’s love.
Of course, according to them, the only way to get back into God’s good graces was to give in to the Angels and let the rest of us be raptured away in Third Impact. God raptures those who rapture themselves. And anyone who got in the way of God’s good works - everyone who disagreed with them - well it was only Christian to rapture them too. They were the biggest threat to us… the Pilots. They were the reason we were followed by a discreet Honda loaded with agents everywhere we went.
The next story on the morning news followed a biosphere reconstruction project along the old Barrier Reef and another on the near completion of the Boston reclamation. The city council election results were out, not that it mattered. Nozomi Takahashi won the window seat with the big pension.
The Ninth Angel was mentioned solely due to it blocking a few main thoroughfares. Attacks by giant aliens had become a weird routine. The first was amazing, the second was interesting, the third and following were a boring routine.
Shinji emerged from his room dressed in shorts and an airy t-shirt that advertised it’s wearer as being a ‘Happy Fun Spirit’. That must be some sort of false advertising…. He sat beside me on the couch, startling me a little.
He was a boy. And I was a girl.... and I was suddenly very aware of that.
“What’s on?”
“The news,” I said, making a conscious effort not to look at him.
“Anything else?”
I changed channel, “Cheeky Angel?” The reason why I watched it was obvious…
He frowned. “No…. something good,”
“Like what?”
“I don't know.”
Typical. People know what they don't want... but never what they do. An awareness of his presence started to filter through my body, muscles tensing up ever so slightly.
He was a boy, and he was sitting beside me. I checked to make sure he wasn't looking at me. Nope. Just watching the box. For some reason, I was fascinated by how smooth his legs were. And how different…
Okay… focus on TV. I changed channel, flicking forward.
“Some gameshow,” The object of which seemed to be avoiding falling in the municipal sewers.
“Ew.” he cringed.
Click.
“Lum the Invader Girl,”
“No,” he sighed as if it really didn't matter.
Right. Nuts to it. We could hop through all ten channels and not find anything he wanted to watch. In fact, I was certain that's what was going to happen, so I just stuck it right back where I started, in time to catch the beginning of Yuusha Strykers.
“I don't like mecha,” the mecha pilot opined.
“I do,” I stated.
And since he'd be unsatisfied no matter what I put on that screen, well, one of us might as well be satisfied.
“I get enough giant robots during the week,”
“I like it. Good show.”
Shinji just pouted it and made it clearly obvious that I was harming his fragile psyche by not putting something else on. He still sat and watched anyway. It opened with the ending of the previous episode. A First time pilot, and classmate of all the others, had decided to sacrifice herself with a dramatic and tear-jerking self-destruct. It was so…cheesy.
“I’m sorry we won’t make it to the lake after all Joe.”
Shinji decided to speak “Why do you like stuff like this? Why do you like piloting Eva?”
“Light No! Think of all we have to live for. We can beat it. We can rescue you. We’ll get you out. Just hold on.”
Didn’t he already ask me that?
“No… I’m already dead. This way, you’ll all live to fight on. What does one life matter when the world is at stake!?”
“Always like Mecha,” I said, “Link to home and.... awesome um.... how do you say? I like technology and machine,”
“unh,” Shinji nodded, “But Eva isn't a TV show, this is real. People really get hurt.”
“Your life matters to me, Light. It matters more than anything in the world”
I could almost have laughed at that. “I know,” I said, keeping my voice soft. “That is not all,”
“Oh?” he pushed ever so slightly for more information, his calm blue eyes asking without pressuring for a response.
“No Joe. It’s too late. Your etha-shield will protect you. Live on Joe… Live on for me,”
“Also. I am proud.”
“It gives your pride?”
I just nodded. He thought on that for a while, while I thought on him. I could feel my body tensing up, my heart starting to beat ever faster. I took a long, deep breath and tried to cool myself off.
“I know you hate Eva,” I said, testing the water. He winced a little. “I know you were force...”
“At first. But I chose to pilot again,” he said, his voice firming again.
“Huh?”
“Light!” The TV screamed
Shinji nodded.
“Why?” I asked him, curious.
“I…. “ he paused “Don’t know.”
The mech on television exploded, incinerating the cute, innocent pilot in a flurry of flashback memories, halting at one final lingering shot of her with her boyfriend at the lakeshore that would just never be, before fading into white.
It was cheesy as hell.
“And that’s why I don’t like mecha animé,” Shinji said, quietly. His voice was nearly drowned out by the scream from the TV.
“Cheese?”
“No,” his voice softened.
The animated characters found the body, in the wreckage. Lifesigns negative, followed by manly tears. The episode followed a funeral procession, with the coffin being carried on the back of a transport truck in through streets lined with mourners, which promptly was interrupted by the next attack. Can the Strykers get over their sorrow enough to save the world?
Is that why Shinji doesn’t like Mecha?
I still didn’t change the channel. Shinji eventually got fed up and left, getting back to his manga for a few minutes, before arranging to meet Kensuke and Touji. He called them, not the other way around. Motoko was busy with a doctor’s appointment today.
Despite how much I hated using social networks, I left a message wishing her good luck on her DSpora noticeboard using my phone. Then got back to my TV time.
It came to an end as Asuka emerged from our shared bedroom.
“Hey, Perry Rhodan is on the UN Forces channel,” she announced, dropping down onto the couch beside me. As if everyone wanted to watch a German Language program.
Asuka watched it religiously.
I used it as time to take care of some of the paperwork expected of us pilots, noting my diet, some 'personal matters' and my exercise regime down for Akagi's records, before taking care of some technical stuff for Unit 03. I was technically a Lieutenant, an officer, so I had to sign off on maintenance logs, read a few reports from my crew chief and issue a few orders for work I wanted done.
I didn’t need those stupid carbon shrapnel launchers - they were only useful for close in stuff - so I gave the order for them to be replaced with a multiple missile launcher system I’d tested out with last weekend. There was also the option to mount a set of braking thrusters, gun turrets, ammunition bays, or even a pair of modified Minotaur IV rockets with N2 warheads.
They were intended to knock out orbiting targets only. The fourth stage was replaced by a warhead bus and 5 independed warheads. The warheads were designed to burn up safely if they ever re-entered the atmosphere. It required the Commanders authrisation to fit. He required the authorisation of the Security Council to authorise fitting the system. It'd be nice against the next Angel, but by the time the bureaucracy was sorted out, Tokyo-3 would be a crater.
Too bad. Looks like we'll have to just catch it again.
I logged in to the intranet with my laptop, and forwarded the work order to my crew chief, along with some seat adjustments and a request for a redesigned plugsuit with a bit more space up top.
Shinji sat quietly beside Asuka. Why wasn't he complaining about her stupid programs? He probably couldn't even understand it, he was just sitting beside her and....
Oh.
Had that been a flash of Jealousy, Noriko? It can't have been. I have nothing to be jealous about. I'm just annoyed that he isn't complaining about what Asuka's watching.
Because Asuka will just tell him to shut up complaining. He complains to me because he feels safe and comfortable complaining to me. And that just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
I chased that feeling away with another wave of disgust. Welcome to puberty, I thought bitterly. If it wasn’t identity and self issues, the sanity monster was going to go after my sexuality next. Little Noriko’s growing up and becoming a woman.
Bored, and waiting for the response from my crewchief, I overrode the school’s own blocking - they just used their own DNS server so it was a simple matter of pointing it to a free one - and headed out into the wild blue web.
Here also, I could see how my perspective was changing on things. It wasn’t a big thing, like suddenly seeing a picture of muscled man and squeeing or transmuting into a rabid Yaoi fangirl, it was far more subtle than that.
It meant identifying more with the heroine of the webcomic, rather than the hero. It meant looking at her costume and quietly wondering what it might feel like to wear, even if I knew I didn’t really want to. It meant finding the Yuri fanart exciting for entirely different reasons, and quickly skipping on from the more usual lemon in case my mind wandered to places I wasn’t comfortable with it going.
Little steps
There were other things beyond that which just served to enhance the feeling that myself had really changed. While an argument about what GURPS stats an Evangelion would have proved that I was still myself.
It was fascinating to see what the world at large made of the Evangelions, and how wrong most of them where. There were the usual idiots who claimed to know the ‘truth’ about the pilots with all kinds of weird theories. It was an open secret that we were teenagers attending the local high school.
And going from that, any journalist worth their salt could probably figure out our names, where exactly we lived, nab our pictures and generally put together a reputation building exposé.
NERV kept them quiet by threatening to freeze out any organisation publishing ‘unwanted’ information. They’d get their one big story, but NERV’s PR department would go fully public, and make sure their competitors got the rest.
The only other occasion where NERV would go public with a Pilot’s names, was if one of us was killed in action. I didn’t want to think about that. Nobody died in the original series. Not until everybody died anyway. If any one of us died, it would be my fault.
For a moment, I had the clearest picture of it, of a graveyard so large, I couldn’t see the ends of it. Just uncountable numbers of little black markers and a single tear trickling down Asuka’s cheek while she glared at the casket, as if hoping by sheer force of will that she could bring the body inside it back to life.
Fuyutsuki gave the eulogy, followed by the last post…. And I decided that I really didn’t want to think about it anymore. I checked my mail inbox, and thanked God that my crew chief had sent back his acknowledgement.
I sent that to print, which meant sneaking into Misato’s room to get it out of the printer. Pen-Pen stood guard outside.
“Who goes there?” he warked, standing to attention.
Ignoring him, I slipped into the room. It was a bombsite. It looked like someone’d held a pay-per-view EVA battle inside. Clothes were just dropped on the floor where they’d fallen from her body. I could see the exact sequence in which she’d stripped. Jacket, blouse, skirt, socks, brassiere… panties… and then Misato herself on her bed, lying butt naked on her back, sprawled across her bedsheets like a murder victim.
I stopped and gawked, feeling a sudden hot rush.
God she was hot!
A small part of me wondered if I wasn’t looking at myself in fifteen years time. An even smaller part was busy wondering if it couldn’t figure out a way to get….closer.
I put it out of my mind and hurried to the printer. Getting the printouts was easy, just don't drop to leave. I turned around to leave, carefully threading my way back through the mess on the floor. The aim was simple: don’t wake Misato.
She sat up like a zombie. “Noriko,”
I winced. “Sorry.”
“Tell Shinji not to cook for me, I'll get something at work,”
“Yep,” I answered.
“And Noriko,” she said with a wink and an amused giggle “You might be quiet. But the printer isn't.”
Typical. I hurried out after another apology, sitting back at the computer while I figured out what to do with the rest of my day.
It was strange, even our hobbies helped our ability to pilot. As Ritsuko explained it to me, they reinforced the idea of myself, and who I am. They strengthened the ego border, which meant harmonics and sync tests could be run deeper in the plug where it was easier to synchronise.
There was still something affirming to me about 'debating' online with someone I'd never met over an issue as petty as to whether an Evangelion could lift a Montana class battleship or not.
The television was showing some propaganda cartoon. Buy bonds today or something.
I got back to taking care of one other thing I’d been meaning to do. Familiarising myself with history. And not just of the last fifteen years. For some reason, World War Two didn’t end until 1947. Otherwise, things were pretty much the same, right up until the end of the 20th century. A few names changes in certain places, but the nail factor was pretty low right up until Second Impact. Our history courses focused almost entirely on the last fifteen years.
I didn't give a rat’s ass what the name of the scientist who discovered the meteor was, or what caused the Last Act of God, or what the Wulfenbach peace edict meant for international relations. It didn't matter to me
But it mattered to teachers.
I got back to filling my day with pointless inanities. Schoolwork was just too much effort. Translate, read. Read a load of other background stuff because I’m still missing fifteen years of cultural context, then finally get around to answering the question. Once I had the question answered, it was just a matter of translating that back into Japanese again. Even the ‘easy’ ones took forever.
All that work left little or no time for Maths and Sciences.
Maths was easier. Maths was a subject I aced. Everything else I could just do the bare minimum to pass the year and it’d be grand. Numbers where a universal language. I blitzed physics and sciences. I blitzed them because I knew it all already.
It surprised me when I scored the lowest of all the pilots in standardised IQ testing.
The phone rang. Shinji looked at myself, then at Asuka. Neither of us could really be bothered to answer it. I was too busy browsing through threads for poison singles on ni-chan while appreciating my new perspective on the whole thing.
“Fine,” he sighed, stepping up to answer it.
I should’ve felt guilty. I didn’t.
“Moshi Moshi,” Shinji said. There was a pause. “It’s for you Asuka. It’s Hikari,”
Now she was in a hurry. She snapped the phone out of his hand, shouldering him out of the way. He stumbled backwards “Hey!”
Asuka sneered at him. “It’s none of your business Third Child,”
He looked to me for help, but I was only ever going to stay neutral at best. I gave him a soft smile. Not my fight Shinji. He returned to his seat and started to channel-surf, Asuka chatted with Hikari, while I paid attention to the inanities of the world wide web. On most websites I had a profile, and I’d deliberately left my gender ambiguous.
Most users just assumed I was male, and a good deal older than fourteen.
I didn’t want to destroy their illusion at first, and it had been fun to slip into the old male shoes for a little bit. But now it felt like I’d be pulling the trigger on the last of the man I had been.
Asuka hung up the phone. “Hey Fourth Child. I'm going to the mall with Hikari. You want to come?”
It wasn’t really a request. I'd bet a months allowance it was more because she didn't want me alone with Shinji, than because she liked my company. Well, there was no way in hell I'd spend a few hours pouring through the latest in post-impact fashion.
I...I
A few hours later, I was pouring through the latest in post-impact fashions at a department store just south of armaments building R-34. Part of the car-park was given over to an EVA lift. A warning sign advised that owners parked their cars at their own risk.
Inside, the layout was basic, and horribly tacky. It was post Second Impact cheap efficiency-chic. The only difference between brand-name clothes, and the cheap store-brand, was literally just a label with a logo on it. All of it was made in the same factory. All of it was uncomplicated and simply cut.
I wasn't hating it. It would've been better if Motoko had been there, but I could still enjoy Hikari and Asuka's company. There was a shop selling Gothic Lolita stuff. It was a fascinating idea. I'd had friends who were interested in EGL and I liked the style.
But only on other people.
It'd be cool to wear. It'd suit my body for sure. With the dark hair, it'd look epic. It just didn't feel right the same way the pink frilly dresses, or Asuka's bipolar switching between princess girl and bare-midriff daisy-duke’d jailbait trying her best to show she’s an adult. It wasn't me.
I found myself in the sportswear section.
Asuka gave her opinion. “Oh great, Noriko's gone cavegirl again,”
“Asuka!” Hikari scowled.
“What? You do same physical training I do!”
Comebacks were never my strongpoint. Especially not in a foreign language.
“I meet the standard,” she said, with a mild sneer. “But who wants to spend all day getting sweaty and sticky?”
Depends on who with.
“I like running. I like fitness things. I like a.... how you say…Running High.” She eyed me dubiously, always inspecting me. I stood my ground. “I Athletics champion. Olympic not for crash.”
That took her back. Why did I feel like I had to defend myself to her? Why does that question matter? I have to, that’s it. Sorhyu pursed her lips, thinking.
“Prove it,” she challenged.
“This isn’t the time,” Hikari advised. “But I saw you out this morning Noriko. You looked so fast,”
“Thank you,” I smiled at her, throwing Asuka a smug glance.
Asuka’s expression went black. “When we’re done here, we’re going to an internet café. We’re going to do a search on your name.” Her whole body inflated like a cobra ready to strike. “Then we’ll do a search on mine,”
You know what. I knew I’d been a champion. I remembered the trophy. I remembered running down the track with a school’s crowd cheering with the cool breeze pulling against my t-shirt. The track surface was cracked and old, soft green weeds coming up through the cracks in the pavement. It might once have been red, but the sun had bleached it. The stadium concrete was stained and blackened by years of rain and grime. Schools had come out from all over the province. There were other girls there, most taller than me.
They stretched in the school colours. Some waved to the crowd. There was a small section calling my name, chanting “No-ri-ko, No-ri-ko”. It was printed on the shining bracelet around my arm.
At the start line. My heart drilling through my chest, my body tense in the starting block, like a charge catapult ready to throw an Eva to the surface. Shoot off with a bang, and I’m in the lead from the first step. Race at speed along the track and I know I’m pulling away. Even from such a small crowd the sound is amazing. It picks me up and carries me forward and I’m suddenly the most important person in the world.
I’m going to win, I’m going to be number 1. I’m getting the trophy. The tape snaps across my chest and it takes a few moments for me to hear myself think over the cheer. I’ve got time to stop and turn around and see the second place crossing the line. I’m that far ahead. It’s astounding. My time’s better than the under-16’s by a few hundredths of a second. And they’re still chanting while that medal hangs on my neck, heavy and cold.
“No-ri-ko. No-ri-ko,”
“Hey Noriko, snap out of it Fourth Child,”
She’s clicking her fingers in front of my face. What’s Asuka doing here? Things crash together like a gearbox shifted without a clutch, just a crunch of memory being forced together with little shavings of ideas sent spinning everywhere. I stare blankly at Asuka for a few seconds, simultaneously remembering the race, while also remembering attending a similar event, looking down from the stands.
It’s not the same. In my memory the stadium is better kept. It was before Second Impact after all. I’m the one in the stands, cold and shivering and cheering. Two concurrent sets of memories, co-existing happily.
“Whoa,”
Asuka’s eyes narrowed, her expression changing from a sort of plastic irritation to genuine concern.
“I think…” I started before pausing, holding my hand up. I didn’t mean to give everything an air of cheesy melodrama. “I think I just remembered something.”
“What? That you haven’t done your homework yet?” she snarked at me.
“No,” I said, flatly. “It was…” I looked at Hikari. Hikari looked just a uneasy, leaning around the side of Asuka. She didn’t know my ‘tragic backstory’, or about my memory problems, did she? I switched languages “It was my memory coming back, of a race.”
“So you really remembered that stuff about being champion?”
I nodded. “Oh yeah,”
She smirked wolfishly at me. “Well, we’ll see what Spider says later,”
Hikari was tapping her foot. “Y’know that’s really rude to do that,”
“Sorry,” said Asuka. “It was classified pilot stuff,”
Thank. You. Asuka.
Hikari stood firm, bracing herself with “You could have told me,”
“Hey, I didn’t know until Fourth child came out with it, alright,” She glared at me. You’re the one who should apologise Noriko.
“Sorry Hikari,” I said, bowing just a little. Enough to show I knew that I was probably supposed to, but not so far that I might be either mocking her, or feel like a total eejit.
“Well, to make it up to you, the Fourth Child has agreed to buy us all ice-cream when we’re finished.”
“What?” I snapped at her.
She just smiled brightly at me, from ear to ear. “Hmmmm.” Those blue eyes brooked no argument.
“I like Vanilla,” Hikari said.
Two against one. Damn.
I put my hands up. “I surrender. I will pay,”
They smiled at me. Two cats that got their cream, and I was the mouse. I needed Motoko, Motoko would’ve backed me up if she wasn’t away with her doctors appointment. We carried on, while I started to feel more like the tail of the dog. Sure I could waggle when I wanted to, but I was still being dragged around wherever I didn’t want to go.
Sure I felt I could wear anything in the store without getting weird looks, but I still didn’t feel like I wanted to. I didn’t have to either. A tomboyish girl in sportswear was still a girl, still a member of the club. An effeminate boy was just a target for others keen to prove their masculinity.
Girls could be just as cruel, but for different reasons I hadn’t quite grasped, and in a very different way. Girls tended to attack self esteem rather than get physical, they tended to sneer and put down, rather than beat down. I think being an Eva pilot earned me a get out of jail free card from any school bullies, but I still saw it happen to others. I found myself hoping Kawaoru didn’t get the same privilege.
It didn’t seem likely.
It was pointed out to me that I couldn’t exactly go everywhere in running shorts and a t-shirt. I needed something more, girlish. After much personal debate, I decided to go for things which played up to the dark-haired tsundere type. If I absolutely had to wear a skirt and blouse, I’d wear a read button-up blouse, a dark pleated skirt and thigh-high socks because I really had a thing for zettai ryouiki and it was marginally more comfortable than going bare-legged.
A look in the mirror told me that all I needed were twin-tails to complete the stereotype. It looked classy, for want of a better description. It was unanimously agreed that it was a look that suited me to a tee.
Choosing according to animé archetypes I’d liked might’ve seemed a bit silly, but it worked. It produced something at least tolerable to wear.
It reminded me that it was okay to still like the things I used to like. It wasn’t one or the other, I could have both. I could still be a gamer and an animé nerd. As my self confidence got a little better, I might even be able to get around to trying cosplay. Well, I was already wandering around in Evangelion cosplay near daily, wasn’t I? I could make a hell of a Revvy, or a Sailor Mars.
I did leave the store carrying significantly less than the others. I think I reached my emotional zenith for the series about the time we passed a game’s store. It was small, non-descript, quiet.
Asuka stopped outside, rooting herself to the concrete “We are not going in there with those… those… nerds.”
I actually had the courage to shoot back with a vicious glare. “I am.” I stated, pushing the door open. A bell chimed, Hikari followed out of what must’ve been curiosity, while Asuka went in solely to avoid being the last one left outside.
There was only the clerk inside, who looked up just enough to acknowledge that we’d entered. He seemed to want to say something, opened his mouth to say it, but then decided against it. I didn’t really intend on buying anything, I just wanted to get an idea of what things were like post second impact.
First thing; there were very few post-apocalyptic sourcebooks.
I flicked around, while Hikari marvelled at the painted miniatures in a case. Asuka stuck close to me.
“It smells in here,” she whispered.
“That’s paint.” And the fact that it’s hot and humid and their aircon seemed to be broken.
“I don’t like the way that clerk is looking at us,” she muttered.
We’re probably the strangest thing to ever come into
“Hey Asuka! Noriko!” Hikari called out. “They have model Eva’s.”
Asuka lit up. “Do they have my Unit 02?”
I glanced over at the clerk, who’d suddenly taken interest. The salesman’s sense had kicked in. “We have Evangelion Orange, Evangelion Purple and Evangelion Red,” he announced. “But they’re kits, not the finished models you see there, so you have to assemble them yourself”
Her nose seemed to scrunch up. Ew, self assembly.
“Do you have Unit….” I caught myself “Evangelion Black?”
He smiled at me, “Since the body below the neck is the same as Red, we sell it as just a head,” It’s not the same, it’s not the same at all. Unit 02 only has twelve thousand plates of armour, 03 has twice that. And Unit 04 was a carbon copy of 03.
“Can I get the full set then? And two Evangelion Black kits.”
Asuka gawped a little.
“Two?” the clerk raised an eyebrow. “Know something we don’t?” he chuckled getting far closer to the truth than he ever would know.
I laughed a little nervously and shared a conspiratorial glance with Asuka. She just shrugged.
I was encouraged to buy undercoat primers, paint sets, and some other equipment that I knew I’d be able to get by without. It was my first encounter with a well meaning and otherwise pleasant clerk who just naturally assumed I had no idea what I was talking about because I happened to be a fourteen year old girl.
Was this normal? It was bloody annoying. I’ve built resin kits before, it was my big hobby. I knew he meant well, and didn’t really mean to be annoying – I’d been on the other side of this more than once and learned that just because someone says they know what they’re doing, doesn’t mean they do.
It allowed me to be far more patient than Asuka would’ve been. She was already starting to stew.
I picked up a random sourcebook I liked the look of, solely to boggle Asuka’s mind, then left confident in the knowledge that NERV would pay for it all out of my allowance. It was good. I was affirming myself. I was a person who liked athletics. I was a person who liked gaming, who liked animé.
I was becoming a fully rounded, generally happy and psychologically stable character. Hello, I’m Mary Sue and I’ve already slept with half the cast. Platonically. It was a case of water water everywhere, nor any drop to drink. And, Misato love aside, I didn’t even feel very thirsty anymore.
The PC’s at the internet café seemed to date back to before the Second Impact. A quick glance on the shipping dates printed on the back told me they were less than a year old. 2014 model Athlon. It just showed where the world's priorities were.
Hikari sat at the keyboard, while I paid for an hour's computer time, and ice-cream. Well, NERV paid for them. Asuka hovered impatiently over Hikari's shoulder, while she fought tooth and nail against a brain-damaged machine. I managed to get back just in time for her to get the browser actually working, and onto the directory page.
“Okay, do me first,” Asuka ordered.
Hikari keyed in her name. Asuka thanked me for the ice-cream. Tense seconds went by. Asuka grimaced under the force of a full blown brain-freeze. I ate slow. Hikari left hers to melt.
“Error,” she said.
Printed onscreen was 'Connection interrupted by intermediate server,'
“Try again,” I suggested, before taking a bite out of some damn-fine minty-chocolate. Mmm... decadence.
“Error” she repeated. “The same one.” She looked puzzled for a moment. “I'll try you, Noriko,”
Asuka looked annoyed. “Stupid computers,” she huffed.
“Another error,” Hikari said, softly.
“Shinji Ikari?”
“The same again, Asuka.”
“Rei Ayanami,” I said. I think I see the pattern.
“Same error.”
Hikari sighed and sat back. She glanced at us both. “You don't think NERV is monitoring the connection?”
“Try a search on your own name,” Asuka suggested. Calmly.
Hikari laughed. “As if I’d ever be a pilot,”
There were a few anticipatory moments, waiting for the servers to respond.
‘Error,’ the computer informed.
We glanced nervously at each other. Okay. That was weird.
“Try Touji,” I said, tentatively.
Hikari typed, then clicked, then frowned. “The same,”
I looked at Asuka, he looked just as confused as me. “Maybe Michiko,”
Type. Click. Sigh. “The same,”
“Our searches on everyone in our class being blocked?” asked Asuka, with an irritated snort.
“What about Motoko?” I suggested. “Motoko Hino is in 2-C”
Type. Click. Hikari let out a slightly surprised hum. “Translate“ click. “A ‘massage parlour’ in California. ”
All three of us laughed at that one. It wasn’t a massage parlour at all, it was something far more…. else. Motoko would’ve blown a gasket and then some to know she shared her name with a second generation Japanese immigrant in California who ran a ‘personal erotic massage parlour’ for men.
We tried a few other names; people we knew, NERV employees, a few random names, my old name … the one hit was ‘me’ … and a fanfic author I’d liked. All seemed to support the conclusion that searches on NERV employees were being intercepted, along with everyone in Class 2-A. Everything else went through, including some of the real crackpot Second Impact theories
“But why would they block everyone in Class 2A, then?” Hikari wondered aloud. “I understand the Five of you, but not Kensuke Aide or Ami Mizuno.”
Asuka’s gaze was sour. “Maybe it’s because everyone in the class is a pilot candidate,” I looked at her, a little surprised. Nailed it in one.
“Even the foreigners?”
“Especially us,” Asuka put a specific point on the ‘us’, “If there’re foreign pilot candidates, they go into class 2-A as well. Well, no other class in the school has non-Japanese students. Most attend the UN school across the city.”
Including Asuka and Kawaoru, there were five non-Japanese in 2A. The others were a pair of Americans and one Brit who kept their own private clique.
Hikari sat quietly for what seemed like quite a while. “Can you imagine me as an EVA pilot?” she laughed.
I smiled at her. I’d seen the fanart.
“Better you than one of the three stooges,” opined Asuka.
Pilot Horaki. Considering that I pilot Unit 03, Bardiel’s pretty much out of it unless something real screwy happens. Yes, I decided on being optimistic. I was in that good a mood. The world was getting better, even if I did nothing but be there. Everyone was happy. Nobody was a bawling ball in the corner. Angels will die. I’ll live here for the rest of me life and be happy. And tempt fate while I’m at it.
“Try search; Leinster athletics championship 2014,”
“Len Star?”
“Let me,” I said.
She nudged the keyboard towards me. It took a few moments to figure it all out before I sent the search request. The answer came back a few moments later. Three results down, beneath the sponsored links. It was a basic page, a news report from a local newspaper. The article was in English, but the picture put it beyond doubt. There it was…, there I was…. a picture of me standing on the top step of the podium.
I slipped back into the memory, feeling my way around it, easing through it. I could walk around the sights, around the smells. I could feel the grit on the old concrete under my running shoes and the sweet scent of the grass. The podium was hollow, the girl beside me jealous and bitchy at the little foreigner who runs like a rocket. The medal was cold and heavy against my chest…. That was getting tender. A photographer called me name and told me to smile.
And there I was, on the other side of that image.
It was frightening. It sent a chill through my bones. It was strangely exhilarating. It was a thrill. It was a little like those first few moments after tipping over the edge on a roller coaster.
They both looked at the picture, then at me.
“You’ve grown,” Hikari said, flatly. She wasn’t referring to my height.
“Now let me try,” Asuka grabbed the keyboard, punching at they keys. Moments later, a German webpage… a university graduation class photograph. Conspicuous among the students was one who was obviously just a little bit shorter, wore obviously long red hair, this time in a pair of braids suspended from a pair of red neural clips. “My university graduation class,” she declared, haughtily.
Hikari shrivelled up just a little bit. “I feel so ordinary,”
A perfect distaff counterpart to Shinji Ikari then.
Asuka swaggered as usual. “Well, I’m the only really exceptional one….”
“Hah!” I snorted.
“Well those two wunderkind share a genetic disease or something…. Shinji Ikari could be any boy in Japan and you…. Well you’re just weird, Noriko”
She rolled her tongue around the word weird. It sparked my sense of mischief and I tugged the keyboard away. I typed something in… just a quick curiosity of mine. A moment later, every single person in the café groaned and cursed as one. Every single one sitting at a computer, or accessing via wireless.
Connection failure.
The whole café had been disconnected from the net. Wow. Suddenly feeling just a little bit paranoid, we left quickly. It wasn’t until we were well outside and halfway home that Asuka dared ask me what exactly I’d typed into the search engine.
“Just a few NERV related keywords,”
Or; Seele triggered Second Impact deliberately and destroyed the First Angel.
“That’s creepy,” said Hikari. “To know that people are watching you all the time.”
“Such is the life of an Eva pilot,”
Distant helicopters were beating their way through the air, and I began to regret doing something so stupid. We hurried back to the Katsuragi apartment, making it to the door without being run down, or bundled into secret black choppers to disappear into the night. It felt like an accomplishment.
The first thing I did was check to see how Motoko was. The only thing that would’ve made this day better, was if she’d come with us.
I…I
Oh.... and some random scratch for later
A reason why I shouldn't watch Threads.
An electronic bell-chime interrupted the teacher, warbling three times over the school's tannoy. The emergency alert signal.
A deadly silence followed.
“Attack warning: RED. Attack warning: RED. A Special State of Emergency has been declared for the Kanto and Tokai Regions. All residents seek immediate shelter. All residents seek immediate shelter,”
In the schoolyard, and all around the city, the sirens began to wail, spooling up to a high cold scream before tailing off into a long drone then cycling once more. I'd known it was coming... and something about it still chilled to the bone. It froze the mind, a lingering hope remaining that it would be revealed to be a drill.
Everyone looked at everyone else. Everyone looked at us, the EVA Pilots. We looked at each other. Shinji looked like he'd left a brick in his trousers. Rei was already standing up at her desk. Kaworu was as unhumanely calm as always. Asuka was ready to eat Sahaquiel's babies.
The announcement repeated, kicking us out of it. “Attack warning: RED. Attack warning: RED. A Special State of Emergency has been declared for the Kanto and Tokai Regions. All residents seek immediate shelter. All residents seek immediate shelter,”
And Misato being badass, probably closing things out. (Or me trying to write it)
“This is going to be a long one and we’re going to be run right to our limits before this is over, but we have to hold on. We will hold on. We held on fifteen years ago, we can do it today. Or do we spit in the faces of all those who died fifteen years ago by just rolling over and dying because survival seems too hard?
They died and we lived on. And we will continue to live. We inherit their hopes and dreams for the future of mankind and make them out own. We inherit their will to survive and strive and fight for every last breath. We will not insult them by just giving up .
This is our city and we will defend it. This is our home, our livelihood, our future, the future that they hoped for. And I am not going to give that up because somebody says it’s ‘impossible’ to defend it.
We have done the impossible before. We built this fortress city in eight years. We built NERV headquarters in ten. We built the Evangelion. We built their weapons and trained their pilots. We defeated the first Angel to attack. We defeated the second, then the third. In twelve hours we built a positron cannon, and an electricity substation capable of shunting terawatts of power from all over this island. We destroyed the Sixth Angel at sea. We destroyed both halves of the Seventh. We crushed the Eighth deep with the crust of the Earth, and destroyed the Ninth despite our power systems being crippled.
All this things were called ‘impossible’ by someone… and we did them. People, for us doing the impossible is routine. What I’m asking you to do now is to go beyond the impossible, to do what can’t be done. If it’s too difficult, then you’re not trying hard enough.
Now.
We need to hold on. Now let’s figure out how.