First time I saw her was at a convenience store.

"K," a broad neon sign outside displayed tersely.  It was just your
typical, small food store, with only a few aisles of goods plus some
refrigerated sodas and ice at the back.  After a cursory glance you
would practically asphyxiate from the dreadful crowdiness in the air
- the smell of small-chain stores crammed with more merchandise than
they could store was all too present here.  For a brief few seconds I
let my eyes wander over to a tiny section of a shelf packed with
different brands of perfumes - and then I noticed her.

There she was at the refrigerators, hidden behind a pile of salsa
cans.  I found her crouching down with the fridge's door opened,
facing the canned cokes and root beers.  Even as I watched, she
dipped her head further into her shoulders, stretching out the few
wrinkles present on the back of her pink tank-top.

Knowing a grouchy mood when I see one, I quietly stepped towards her,
not wishing to disturb her contemplation... or whatever she's been
doing.  I didn't want trouble, no - all I really wanted was a bottle
of Diet Pepsi.

A muffled voice stopped me.  "Don't say anything," the weird-colored
haired girl (it was some sort of a mix between dark orangish and
light chestnut that I couldn't describe) in front of me stated
without looking up.  It was quite obvious that she was upset, though
for the life of me I couldn't understand why she chose to mull her
problems over by staring at recycled aluminum cans.  However, a rough
assessment on the present condition soon told me that if I just stood
there and did nothing, it would probably be at least a couple hours
before I can get my drink.  Therefore, despite her warning, I spoke.

"~uum, well, actually, I was just trying to get a soda and found you
sorta... in my way."  I mentally winced at my choice of word - or the
lack thereof - when I thought I noticed a vein jerking suddenly on
her forehead.  But thirst was thirst and the need to quench it
overrode the various warning flags in my mind, making me continue
dumbly.  "I mean, I'd be happy to wait for you for a few more minutes
to finish whatever you were doing back then, but it just happens that
I'm about as good as dehydrated right now and I can't wait much
longer... while we're speaking, would you mind handing me a Diet
Pepsi?  It's on the lower racks to your right."

An awful long silence ensued, suffocating me briefly as the air
turned stagnant with the muteness.  I didn't much like it.

Suddenly she rose.  After startling me by slamming the refrigerator
door shut, she promptly marched to the end of the aisle with her head
held high, opened the door to the freezer, and crouched down again.

Perhaps - just perhaps - I might have blown it this time, I cursed
myself in my mind.  But then again, I thought as I crouched down next
to her - carefully keeping a few feet of distance in between - that
maybe there's still a chance to keep the damage at a minimum.

I was on the verge of apologizing when I walked over to her, but
something must have happened then - all of a sudden the words which I
had hastily recited in my mind for over ten times slipped away at the
last minute, leaving me in an idiotic stupor that only contributed
even more to the already uncomfortable silence.  The rekindled spark
of hope in my heart was once again rapidly engulfed by the
surrounding darkness.

It remained like this for quite a while.  Even though probably only a
few moments had passed, each second felt longer and more awkward than
the one before.  I was careful not to make any unnecessary eye
contact with her, though the few times that I looked at her also
seemed to go unnoticed.  I closed my eyes and prayed to God to pull
me out of whatever quagmire I had just gotten myself into.  As if on
cue, she spoke (then again, it might be because she was unable to
ignore my presence any longer).

"What are you doing?!"  She tartly demanded.  It gave me the feeling
as if she was addressing an especially disgusting species of pest or
vermin, the way she raised an eyebrow and honed her pitch to
something close to a screech - not to mention the way she gritted her
teeth together and just barely held back from spitting her words out
(likely due to a need to maintain a quorum of social etiquette to
save her own face).  For some reason, a picture of the Spanish
Inquisition flashed briefly through my mind as I regarded her
menacing, horrid glare.

"What are you doing."  A voice struck me unguarded, and I shook my
head clear as if I had been dealt a blow by the voice when I realized
it was actually her that I heard.  I turned hastily toward her out of
reflex, though was promptly taken aback when I saw that she didn't
even glance at me when she spoke.  Her words, too, reflected more of
an impassive observation than a question.  But... didn't I just hear
her ask that same question, albeit in a much more snobbish tone?

"Excuse me?"  I blinked slowly and asked in return, totally
bewildered.

"Anta baka?!  Mou, nevermind!"  She sighed and shook her head
dramatically in exasperation.

"Excuse me?"  I had to add.

"...nothing," said she hesitantly.  I thought I heard something to
the effect of "are you an idiot" coming from her, but now -
scrutinizing at her totally uninterested look - I wasn't so sure.
Now just a second, I said to myself hurriedly, either I'm hearing
things or I'm hearing things.  Quickly I brought a hand up to my
forehead and, feeling no sign of fever, became even more puzzled.
What on earth just happened?

"Why are you staring at me."  There it was again, more of a statement
than a question.  In fact, it was really more like an accusation than
either a statement or a question, forcing me to stop thinking on
whatever I had been thinking and I wondered if she had always been
this way - making things hard to reply for people.  Although I was
mildly surprised that she actually turned to look at me this time
when she spoke.

"Uh, nothing..."  I stuttered hastily, not very convincing.
Naturally, from the way she arched her eyebrow, she didn't seem to be
convinced either.  Good, I thought, this makes the two of us.
"Aren't you cold?"  I added frantically, hoping to lead her away from
the present subject.

"Na...ni?"  Her voice wavered a little, matching the half- startled
look in her eyes.  Evidently she wasn't expecting this.

(That look.  I could swear that I had seen it somewhere before.  But
I couldn't remember where...)

"I mean, the air-condition is pretty strong... and the way that
you're sitting here staring at soda-cans with the fridge's door wide
open... you'll get frozen."

Thinking in retrospect, I must have said the wrong thing then.  The
thin mist in her eyes swiftly dissipated, and I was left with a
moment of regret before she turned her back to me.  "That is none of
your business, I believe."

"Er... yeah, you're right, I guess."  I sounded lame, even to myself.
"Excuse me for intruding."  It was all I could think of at the
moment, and I had to beat a hasty retreat before making myself more
of an nuisance to her.

She "humpf"ed as I left the store.

But then again, I thought I heard her teeth chattering slightly as
she "humpf"ed.  Perhaps that, too, had been my imagination.


Later that day my mind drifted back to the scene at the store.  For
some reason, I couldn't wipe her image away.  For one instance, I saw
her melancholy, lethargic stare floating in mid-air.  Then the next
thing I saw was her cynical, condescending, self-righteous,
over-egotistical glare.

To say that I was anything close to liking that girl would've been a
grave mistake.  There was nothing to like in a snobbish girl, in my
opinion.  Perhaps, then, it was the fact I had been delusional when I
talked to her that made me remember her so clearly - although, after
some time to reorganize my thoughts, I concluded that I was more
fascinated by her than anything else.

Yes.  That was it.  Fascination.  I was fascinated at how I could
have been hallucinating when I talked to her, and even more at how
differently she reacted to me in reality as a pose to in my
imagination.  This, plus a few hundred of other little things, must
have been why I remembered her.  But then again, perhaps - just
perhaps - I had been... (for lack of a better word) charmed.

Somehow, that idea annoyed me to no end.






                         ukulele productions

                          proudly  presents





              P S Y C H E D E L I X                 x 2




                             part one:

                      o.c.u.l.u.s  a.n.g.e.l.i




                                     featuring:

                                     NEON GENESIS EVANGELION


                                     guest starring:

                                     MOKONA
                                     (from Magic Knight Rayearth)






                                  I

You see, I have this theory.

I think that for any given period of time in human history, there are
latent signs that mark the present, past, and future relative to that
particular period.  Let's just call them "potential symbols" at the
moment for simplicity's sake.  These "potential symbols" are not
bound merely by fashion trends or well-known incidents; what I am
referring to are the events or even individual persons that exhibit,
directly or indirectly, the characteristics of the present, past, or
future for the entire human race.

A downsized example would be that a pre-millennial president of the
former United States, Herbert Hoover, accurately predicted in his
personal diary the world-famous American stock market crash six
months prior to its first occurrence in September 1929.  He did so
because he was able to identify the future trend of economics and
pinpoint the subtle events that tangentially hinted at the
possibility of such a calamity.  In other words, Hoover had found the
"potential symbol" for the immediate economic future for his time.

In what ways Mr. Hoover put to use his ingenious foresight is
irrelevant to the present subject; I shall not digress further on
this.  Suffice it to say that through this example, you may see that
deduction analysis of this sort can be made.

What I offer now is the possibility to organize a system of logic
that may identify the influences of the past, present, and future for
any point in our history.  If we can only step back for a moment and
view our "time," as we have come to define it, not as a continual
stream of events, but as an infinite amount of continually
overlapping sections of past, present, and future, we may perhaps
discover the various insignificant news or social interactions to be
actual key joints among these strips of time disjunction.  These key
joints would then be the "potential symbols" which I have mentioned,
and by successfully interpreting and analyzing the symbols, we may
very well know not only what events will occur, but how they will
occur as well.  Perhaps, then, in time we will even master the
ability to change the trend of our future hundreds of years down the
line, evading unnecessary catastrophes for our descendants long after
we leave this earth.

And right now, only one thing stands between me and this incredible
logic system that I speak of.

You see, I have this theory.

It is just a theory.

Perhaps it may turn out to be entirely gibberish.

After all, I'm just a crummy little third-year college student
majoring in philosophy and human psychology.


                                  II

"Yo man, whassup?"  And that would be from our class representative,
a legend street-wiser in his own mind.  But I had to give him some
credit; he happened to be the loudest gossip I know around the entire
school.

"Yaknowwha?"  He patted my shoulder in a brotherly fashion.  I
shivered at the gratuity of his third-rate antics.  "ah heard... dat
da witch's on yar tail!  Heh, betta watch out, bud, ah dun wanna miss
ya in the next semesta!"  And if I hadn't mentioned before, he also
happened to enjoy watching everyone else around him suffer.  I often
wondered what army voted him into being the class rep; but none of
that now.

For once, he had actually given me something to worry about.

The "witch" that my friend Bigmouth was referring to went around in
school by the name of Hughston Herwich, currently commandeering over
the position as head of the history department.  Herwich only
lectured the most advanced graduate classes each year; and while he
flunked some and welcomed some into doctorates, most of the ordinary
good people like myself had never seen him in person.  When asked,
the few that studied under him only unanimously depicted him as a
most competent professor with a most bizarre sense of humor.  In
short, he was our campus's number-one mystery figure.  Rumors had it
that he originally came from some Asian country after surviving the
S.I. and found out his whole family was gone.  They claimed that he
had some... connections with high officials in China and Japan also,
but no one was sure.

What could he possibly want to have anything to do with me?


                                 III

It had only been a couple hours since I had the meeting with
Professor Herwich, and the next thing I knew, I was busily packing my
clothes and other belongings, ready to take the first flight on the
morning of the thirteenth.

"I've been expecting you, Hotshot."  My mind involuntarily drifted
back to the richly carpeted, red-oak finished private reading room in
the history department's building.  "Have a seat," he offered
casually, neatly tucked behind an impossibly large, expensive office
desk.

Meticulously I positioned myself at the edge of a luxurious
sofa-chair, attempting to avoid any unnecessary body contact with it.
For some reason, I felt that I was unworthy to actually touch the
chair.

"Well, you must be wondering what this is all about," he almost
smiled.  I couldn't read the expression in his eyes; the light in the
room all seemed to be reflecting off his glasses, stinging my eyes
whenever I tried to look past them.  "But since you're such a
brilliant young man, why don't you tell me the reason why I asked you
here today?"

I was afraid you would say that, I mentally winced.  I've never been
religious in my life, and confessions are definitely not my
specialty.  But then, I did have a rough idea on what he was leading
to.  "Uhh..." I replied weakly, "because you want me to stop sending
all those ridiculous essays about my theory to the Historical
Journal?"  It was only an afterthought that I realized he was the
sponsor of our school's history magazine.

"Good guess," he almost smiled again.

"In fact," he continued as he reached for a drawer and pulled out
what I could only recognize as an official document, "I'm requesting
to the school that you have a six-month leave away from school
exactly because of those... submissions that you have made throughout
the years."

My blood froze.

A thousand possibilities ran through my brain at once, each
struggling to explain to me how he reached the decision he did.  Was
he suspecting me of plagiarism?  That couldn't be; I've never copied
anything off anyone, and certainly not about that.  Did I commit a
major offense by over-submission?  I couldn't possibly imagine how.

"P.Professor Herwich," I stammered, mostly because I was still unable
to recover from the residue shock of the news, "you couldn't possibly
be thinking of suspending me, right?  Right?"  Damn it, why aren't
you agreeing with me?  "I.I mean, you have no uh, r.reason to, to do
that right?" God, how I hated myself then.  I actually sounded guilty
when I had no reason to.

"I wouldn't exactly call it a suspension..." he wryly responded, but
I had neither time nor mood to appreciate drama.

"Professor," I gathered a last-ditched effort and half-barked, "you -
you.have.no.right.to.suspend.me.do.you.understand??  I don't care how
eccentric they said you are, but I want you to be perfectly clear
that in case you request my suspension from school, I will pursue
this matter through legal actions using whatever means and power I
have so DON'T YOU DARE SCREW WITH ME BECAUSE OF A NEED TO EXERCISE 
YOUR PERVERTED HUMOR DO YOU GET THAT???"

To tell the truth, I believed he was a bit taken aback at my reaction.  
Good, I thought, this way we can get over this nonsense as soon as 
possible.

"Oh well."  He sighed in disappointment.  "Then I guess you're not
really interested at the little trip I have planned for you during
your leave."  "ABSOLUTELY N..." I paused.

"...what trip?"  Curiosity overcoming my anger, I halted my raging
tirade and asked.  Something smelled fishy here.

"And I thought you were all brilliant.  Here, take a look yourself."
Saying this, he flung at me a folder that had been lying by his desk
the entire time.  I though I caught a gleeful look from him before I
turned my attention to the folder.  Damned glasses, damned beard, I
thought, there's no way to know what he was thinking with them in the
way...

Herwich made a sudden movement to get up, blocking whatever leftover
light there was that leaked into the room from the blinds.  It was
only then that I realized how much resemblance that man bore to an
ogre.

"You have no idea," he started after pacing about his desk for a few
minutes, "how much controversy you have raised in the department with
that theory of yours."  I gulped.  No, no, I was starting to like
where this was going, no need to do this to me now.  "I, for one, had
thought the whole thing rubbish - or at least, a beautiful and grand
mirage that you college kids these days tend to think up: never
there, never will happen.

"But over the two-and-a-half years since you attempted to publish the
first, draft, shall we say, of your hypothesis on historical
potential symbolism, you have repeatedly attempted to submit proofs
and small-scaled samples of the logic system which you spoke of.
Maybe it was the psychological bombardment that you made on us that
finally made us come to this decision; I don't know.  But during our
last monthly board meeting, the entire board had at last unanimously
consented that your original hypothesis, plus all those... tomes that
you've supplemented along the way, was mature enough to at least have
a chance of becoming a complete theory."

I felt my breath caught in my throat as I leaned even more forward
from the chair to make sure what I was hearing was correct.  "What
exactly are you saying, professor?"

He ignored me and went on.  "...which is why we all agreed to give
you one chance to prove the plausibility of this thing, once and for
all.  To accept what you're implying in this possibility of a logic
system that can predict the human future with clear-cut deduction
requires a leap of faith of enormous magnitude; one that we had never
been prepared to deal with before. Therefore, we wanted to make sure
that this is no random hoax piled up by induction; a sort of
foresight concluded based on a basketful of hindsight, in other
words.

"You have six months to show us what your deduction system can do,"
he formally intoned.  "All we want is for you to apply your 'theory'
to the gravest calamity that ever struck unto mankind in history, and
give us an outlook on what may possibly happen in our immediate
future.  Do that, and you'll be world-famous in no time -"

"Half-a-world famous, Professor Herwich," a deep, unfamiliar voice
interrupted.  "No need to exaggerate the truth now, professor."  I
whipped about in time to see a dark screen on the wall flicker to
life.  Why hadn't I noticed it there before?

Gradually, the contour of a man's head appeared on the screen.  Short
hair, combed forward, I noted as the vague outlines darkened in
bright contrast to the background.  Black, trimmed beard.  And
glasses too, but half-smoked.  The last thing that unfaded was his
face.

Never in my life had I seen a face with such control.

"Allow me to have the honor to introduce," the professor's voice
broke through my trance as I reflexively straightened myself, "this
is Commander Ikari Gendou, the head of the Nerv Organization."  Nerv?
That must mean...

Something flickered in the eyes of the man in the screen, perhaps a
way of acknowledging my presence.  Though the face still remained
impossibly stoic.

"Commander Ikari had expressed his exclusive interest in your theory
through v-con a few days prior to our last board meeting.  In fact,
he was the main factor of our final decision.  He had granted you a
special permission for a stay of six months in Tokyo-3 under the
sanction of Nerv Headquarters.  He had also taken the pains to
arrange you an apartment in District F at his own personal expense.
During this six-month period you will be neighboring with special
Nerv personnel, and will be allowed to have a second-class clearance
permitting your access to most facilities at the Nerv Headquarters.

"In exchange for all these, he would like to have a share of your
conclusion - should you reach any - regarding to the future of the
world.  In addition, he will have the rights to request detailed
documentation of your proposed logic system, and of the methods you
used to reach your final conclusion.

"Of course, should you fail to reach a satisfactory and feasible
conclusion, you will be responsible to pay all expenses you have cost
while at Tokyo-3.  Is there anything you would like to add, Commander
Ikari?"

I turned back reflexively to the screen.  The image on it slithered
once, but that was all.

"Good.  So is it a go or no go?"  Herwich nodded his chin at me and
asked.

At that instant, two completely opposite ideas were dueling  inside
my head.  One told me to tie this man to a chair and painfully pluck
out his foot-long beard by the strand; it was obvious from the start
that the conditions he set for me were more than merely difficult.
There was a trace of impressment in his tone, I'll grant him that.
But there was also a few underlying sarcasms that I didn't miss
either.  If I didn't know better, I'd almost say he was a bit...
well, let's just say he didn't think some third-year college kid
could've come up with this.  But I couldn't see why no one had
thought of this before; the facts were all there, all it required was
a little imagination... And just when did I ever mention in my theory
that I could accurately predict a future tampered and influenced by
such a variable of external (read extraterrestrial) force as the
Angels?

But the better half of me knew that this was as good a chance as I'd
ever get to prove my points, and besides, what good would my theory
do if it couldn't predict the future?  It would be exactly as the
board had thought, some "foresight" based on a collected summary of
innumerous hindsight of human past errors.  And this part of me was
feverishly telling me to grovel at the professor's feet and bowing to
him like there's no tomorrow for the opportunity he had given me.

In the end, a compromise won.

I stood up and walked over to Professor Herwich, experienced smiles
of gratitude plastered onto my face instantly.

"Professor," I said as I clasped his hand in mine, secretly squeezing
it with every ounce of strength I had, "you have no idea how grateful
I..."  Squeeze, squeeze.  I hope your hand's sore for the whole six
months that I'm gone, you son of a gun.

I paled when I realized the ogre didn't even flinch.  "Save it."  He
grinned through his beard and squeezed forcefully in return.

I thought I heard something snap.

                          *       *       *

"So... when do I leave?"  I asked casually, my whole attention
diverted to nursing my sore hand.

"This Friday, in the morning.  You have two days to pack and that
should be plenty."  He said as he threw me a coach ticket to Tokyo-3.
Coach ticket?  Man, talk about stinginess...

"Yeah, that's more than adequate."  I picked it up gingerly with my
good hand and got ready to leave, swallowing whatever bitter
complaints I had into my stomach.

"Oh, and by the way, I've probably mentioned this to you earlier..."
He called to me as I approached the door.  "Yes?"  I halted.  "Those
tickets were paid by myself..."

"Yes, I realized that..."

"...and therefore I have also scheduled you in for a part-time
tutoring job for several students in the local junior high school
because of your poly-linguistic skills..."

"...and I thank you very much - wait, say what?"

"To pay me back for those tickets, of course."  He said
matter-of-factly.  "God knows how expensive international tickets can
cost, with the planes having to implement those radiation filters..."
I almost tripped.

"Yeah, yeah, of course..."  It was hard, but I managed to say the
words without grinding my teeth too hard.  And no, you never
mentioned anything like that to me before, I added silently to
myself.

"Right.  Then everything is settled.  You may go."

Perhaps tearing his beard out by the strand would have been a more
pleasant option than I had originally thought.


                                  IV

The trip itself seemed rather smooth and uneventful.  In fact, I was
even bored to a certain extent.  Maybe my initial fervor about the
whole thing had died down after some time, I thought as I became
dimly aware that this was my first time flying, and already I was
going across half the globe.

Or really, what was left of it.

Peering outside the window and watching the folds of cloud sailing
under me, I realized for the first time that I was glad the plane was
so high.  I didn't want to see what was really beneath those pure,
untainted clouds.  It was as if something had warned me beforehand
that the moment I looked downward, into the sea that was no longer a
sea and the earth that was could no longer be called an earth, I
would be physically consumed by the grotesqueness of it all.  Call it
a cowardly reflex to shun away from unpleasantness, if you wish.

"Would you like a drink?"  My train of thought was cut of by an
unexpected voice.  A stewardess asked me with an equal tone, bearing
a professional smile.  On the other aisle another equally-smiling
stewardess was serving tea to a large, bald man.  Gods, how can you
smile and ignore what is down there, I wanted to screamed.  "Water
would be fine, please."

The smell of nitrous oxide assaulted my nostrils for a brief second,
and an opened spray-can of water was handed to me.  "Enjoy your
drink."

I muttered some thanks.  Would Tokyo-3 be as polluted as us?  The
rest of the world that survived?  I did not know.  But, it would not
be too much to expect thusly; after all, it was no news that the UN
spent trillions over there when it first ratified and sanctioned the
project of creating Nerv.  With such a huge spending budget throwing
into the project each year while all the member countries' finances
went comatose over trying to rebuild whatever was left, no wonder
Nerv would be the "pinnacle of human technological creation" it was
famed for.

Was it worth it, though?  Leaving thousands, no, hundreds of
thousands of people to starve and remain homeless in order to create
this one fortress that claims to be able to withstand anything, even
another Second Impact?

Was it?

I was hesitant to find out the answer by myself.


It was pitch black outside, but I couldn't sleep.  I shifted in my
seat to a more comfortable position, and turned to look at the
darkness that took over the sky.

It felt so... empty.  So much void... but so... dirty.

For some reason that I could not identify then, I called for the
stewardess for a drink.  "Hello, what would you like?"  The tiny
panel set into the chair in front of me lit up and the stewardess
asked from inside the screen.  That same smile again.  Why can't they
just get rid of that fake smile?

"I would like some more water, please."

"More water?"  The stewardess in the screen repeated with a puzzled
expression.  "Sure, it will be coming right up."

"Thank you," I said and manually turned off the screen before it
could shut off automatically.


I did not know how much time passed, but it was morning again.  The
sun seemed to shine brighter today, as if revived from the tomb of
the night before.  I couldn't tell for sure, but I had a feeling that
the plane was preparing for descent.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the captain speaking.  If I may have
your attention please..."  Yup, and it's about time too.  "We are
currently right outside of the old Tokyo Bay, and are approaching the
New Narita International Airport.  Estimated time of arrival is
within fifteen minutes.  I have just contacted with the tower, they
have just had a shower and therefore the sky above New Narita
currently looks pretty clear.  In a moment, we would be through the
clouds and engage in the final phase of our landing.  At this time,
we would like to ask you to return to your seats and fasten your
seat-belts.  Remember, no smoking or use of electronic equipment is
allowed during either take-off or landing.  For your further
information, the current standard time in Tokyo-3 is..."

I ignored the captain's rambling and peered out from the window once
more, just in time to see the last wisps of cloud dissipating,
revealing the city and bay below.

What a sight they made.

On one side, there was nothing but total ruin and chaos.  Darkness
seeped into the atmosphere from beneath the decaying sea as a dozen
fallen skyscrapers half-protruded from the tip of the waves like
spears jutting their blades outward from mortal wounds of a moaning
ocean.  The bay and all it surrounded were thoroughly devastated, the
entire landscape half-sunken, writhing disquietly in its death
throes.

On the other side of the bay, however, was a man-made Eden. Viewing
from afar, the entire Tokyo-3 seemed to gleam brighter than the sun.
It was as if the whole city was polished daily.  I doubt one could
find even the slightest vestige of a shadow inside that city, the way
it simply glowed with an impossibly shiny, metallic luster.  I was
only allowed a cursory look of its outskirts before I was forced away
from the window to avoid the glare from blinding my eyes.  Perhaps it
really is worth it after all, I thought.  Perhaps, as they say, this
city is really the only hope for this world stricken with disaster...

"Mommy, look!"  A child's voice brought me back into reality.
Turning about, I saw a little girl about six years old sitting across
from me, a tiny forefinger pointing toward a window.  What a little
angel, I smiled inwardly as her mother turned to find the source that
had enthused her so much.  As if caught by her enthusiasm, I too
turned toward the window again.

And saw, as improbable as it was, a rainbow of enormous size
extending from one side of the bay to another, all the way from the
half-submerged ruins of Tokyo-1 to the glittering port of Tokyo-3;
the sea in between, along with all its agonizing violence, was
completely suppressed under the magnificent arch.  This, unlike the
city of Tokyo-3, could not be the work of man.  This had to be the
work of something much higher.

My eyes could not turn themselves away from this unearthly scenery.
As unreligious as I was, I could not but wonder what it could have
meant, the way the rainbow came between the utter destruction on one
side of the sea and the blooming prosperity on the other.  It was
like a median, a feathery bridge held in suspension, crossing between
heaven and hell.  For a moment, I truly believed I could find an
answer to everything in the world if only I could stare at this
picture long enough.

Something caught in my eyes.  I blinked.

And then it was gone, the entire view replaced by a wall of thick,
concrete, pale skyscrapers gleaming their strange, shiny, metallic
sheen as the wheels under the plane ground themselves against hard
pavement and creaked in protest.


                                  V

In any case, I arrived at Tokyo-3 with the grandest aspirations,
knowing all the while that I'd fail in the end.  But that's another
thing altogether.

"Weeeeell," I half-yawned to no one in particular.  One of the fringe
benefits to be a guest of the head of the Nerv agency, as I found out
only a few minutes ago, was that they'd take care of all your baggage
and have DHL send them straight to where you live.  I waved my arms
happily, delighted to be freed from all the burden I had planned to
carry myself.

Absentmindedly, I fidgeted around with a letter-sized poster I picked
up at my temporary lock-box near the terminal as instructed.  On the
poster featured a cute-looking, ample bosomed young woman (frankly,
the only thing I had to say against her in the picture are the
varicose veins - but even those weren't really that visible at all)
in a revealing bikini outfit against a sunny beach background.  Said
lady was bowing with one hand in salute, showing more of her proud
curvature - and in result less of her legs.  Smart, I mused.  I like
that.

Then I noticed that on the top of the poster, somebody had hastily
scribbled a few words in pen.  "I'll pick you up later," it wrote
simply, signed with an initial "M."  What horrible penmanship, I
thought as I inspected the chicken-scratch sprawling across the top
of the paper, leaving trails of dribbled ink everywhere like
goldfish's feces.  I had no idea why Nerv would send me something
like this and told me it was important.  Must have something to do
with that custom of theirs about providing guests with entertainment
of every sort.

Unfortunately, I didn't think I required such a form of service at
the moment - at least, not before I settle down and finished my move
- and I unconsciously wandered outside the terminal as I debated in
my head whether to hang the poster up in my new room, or glue it to
the nearest telephone booth.  From where I came from, I had seen lots
of these - and much worse -  at public phone booths, and I presumed
that this copy I had also belonged to somewhere along such lines.
Still, she looked too cute to be passed on...

Suddenly I noticed a blue sportscar in front of me that I didn't
recall seeing before.  The left door seemed to have been left open
for quite some time now, and if I didn't know better I'd say that it
had been waiting for me...

"Any time now," A mature, rich, feminine voice from the other side of
the car startled me.  It was only then that I had a chance to take a
look at the owner of the voice.  I was stunned.

It was Dr. Ritsuko Akagi, the world-renowned scientist who was
primarily in charge of research and experiments conducted about the
Angels.  Though she had rarely made public appearance, the few times
I saw her on TV was enough to make her my one and only idol.  Many a
times I have often said to myself that I'd die happy if only I could
meet her in person once in my life.

And now there she was, inside the car waiting for me.  Impossible, I
said to myself, yet she was.  I tried to remember everything I had
wanted to say to her, but the harder I tried, the more my memories
retreated away from me, jumping out of my reach.  "Uh, ah, er," I
stuttered embarrassingly, "well, that is, huh, um, you see..."  The
knowingly smile she wore on her face was making things worse.  "Hop
on in," she notioned me with a nod of her chin, completely unminding
my discomfiture.

Not knowing what else to do, I did.


"I've heard about you;" she explained as we sped away on the
expressway, uncaring the mountainous scenery enveloping around us,
"Commander Ikari had mentioned to me once lately about your discovery
on this... historical potential symbolism, to quote your own term.
Looks like you've made quite an achievement, especially given your
age."

"Actually," I replied with a nervous laugh, "it's more like a
hypothesis right now.  I'm just here to test whether it works or
not."  She nodded again, her eyes never leaving off the road.

Neither of us said anything for a while after that.  Finally, feeling
compelled to break the silence, I spoke.  "Nice car you have there,
doctor."

My flattery had no effect on her.  "You think so?"  She asked evenly,
her eyes staring straight ahead.

"Yeah," I replied automatically, the critic part of me getting more
and more into control, "except for all those little dents and
scratches on the sides.  And, oh, the suspension too.  It could use
some adjustments."  It was only afterwards that I heard what I
actually said, and I secretly winced.

However, her expression was not what I had expected.  "I'll pass
those observations along to Misato," she half-chuckled.  "You see,
this is actually her car; she should've been the one to pick you up
today."

"Oh."  I did not know what to say, particularly when I didn't know
the "Misato" to whom she was referring.

"But since she's supervising a special synchronization training for
two of our pilots, she asked me to come get you instead."  She sighed
slightly, as if to dramatize.  "You're very lucky, you must realize,
if Misato's picking you up today, chances are that she still haven't
left her apartment yet even now."  I must agree with her after I
heard this; if this was the case then I was indeed very lucky that
Dr. Akagi was the one who came.

We made an exit under "District F," after passing through some sort
of toll tunnel.  Once I've actually taken a good look at the streets
and the surrounding area, I realized that the inner city wasn't
glimmering as much as it looked from the outskirts.  It was then
something unsettling flashed across my mind for the first time since
I've been here, but I passed it on as some sort of imagination 
generated by a lack of caffeine.

"Well," Dr. Akagi said as we turned on one of the intersections into
a cluster of modernized apartments, "normally I would've dropped you
off and show you your room and everything, but I'm afraid that I
still have urgent business to finish at the headquarters.  Perhaps
next time then."  The car glided to a halt in front of what looked
like a convenience store.  "It was nice meeting you though."

"It was a great pleasure to meet you, doctor."  I took the hand she
offered, and opened the door to leave.  A pleasure indeed, I said
in my mind as my eyes wandered about the neighboring buildings.

"Wait, I almost forgot," she called out and handed a small package to
me, "here's your apartment keys, your temporary Nerv identification
card, and a few thousand new yen for clothing and other commodities.
Right now the card's only good for entering the main gate and
bathrooms and things like that, but Commander had issued you a
personal one that you can pick up when you come by in a few days."  I
took the thin parcel into my hands.  "And please, just 'Ritsuko' is
fine."  She flashed a quick smile that seeped with an air of natural
sensuality, and left.

For a long time I stood on that spot, thinking about what was
happening and what had happened, and about why I couldn't help
feeling that something was out of place.  Oh well, I thought, giving
up, there's always time to figure it all out later.

I surveyed the small convenience store at the corner of the streets,
a fashionable neon board displaying the simple letter "K" encased in
a circle.  Only then did I realize that I was thirsty and needed
something to drink, so I walked towards the direction of the store
without hesitation.  Yup, always enough time to figure everything
out, I said to myself and walked in.
	            

			                                       (TBC)

AUTHOR'S AFTERWORDS----------------------------------------------


HEYAS ALL,


Hopefully, Part 1-2 should be out before the end of next week...
But then again, I'm just tasting the joy (and pain) of being a 
freshman undergrad, so I dunno... I can only say that I'll refrain
from procrastinating too much.


I'm a little bit stuck in the end of Part 1-2, and that's why I'm 
submitting this thing (to get some C&Cs that I may use =)


And yes, Psychedelix I is still going (sigh)...
I'm resisting the temptation to send before I finish the entire fic.


		*Warning.  Possible Spoilers*

Oh, yeah, and a couple of questions to anyone in general... 


1.  Did Rei (Rei 2) often refer to herself as "I"?  (Except when she's
    in reflection, a la ep. 14 or so.)

2.  What happened to Asuka's mom?

3.  When did Rei reveal herself to be Lilith?

4.  What exactly does Seele do?  (I think this is answered somewhat in 
    End of Evangelion, but since I haven't seen the movie...)

Answers are very welcomed and appreciated, as they will definitely help
me write this fic.


Feel free to comment & flame & stuff. :)


								ukie