--
SPOILER ALERT - the following fanfiction contains a great many spoilers. It is
strongly suggested that you avoid reading this fic until you have seen the
entire series.
--
This fan fiction is adapted from Neon Genesis Evangelion, produced by Gainax.
All characters herein are the sole property of Gainax, and no claim on them is
made by this author; etc. etc.
--



UNIT 00, part 1
by Chris Burke

--

"Mother" is the name of God on the lips and hearts of children...
 -The Crow

--

     It  was aware.      

     It had a soul.  It had a mind.  Despite the wishes of those others who
created  It, It had a consciousness.  Perhaps the soul itself had a capacity
for reason, an intellect outside of the organic brain.  Perhaps there was
something about the  joining of soul and flesh that inevitably gave rise to
the
mind and consciousness.  Perhaps there had been an error in Its construction,
far too costly to correct, that had caused this defect.  These were
possibilities for those others to consider, if they were even aware that their
creation was in fact flawed.  These questions did not concern It, nor did they
concern Her.

     Locked into place in Its cage, It was aware.  Its senses, though dulled
without the aid of its bio-electrical systems, were active.  What was
happening
around It, however, was beyond Its understanding.  It could detect the
presence
of those others, but could not discern their intentions.  This disturbed It. 
It was afraid of those others that It could not understand.  It was afraid
without Her.

     It could always detect Her, no matter how dulled Its senses; no matter
how
deep into the freezing sleep those others forced It; no matter the damage to
Its body.  The connection between it and Her was too strong; Its desperate
need
for the assurance of Her existence was far too great.  Now She was far away,
barely detectable to It.  Each moment was filled with the fear that she might
vanish completely.

     Without Her, it was alone.

--

     Alone.  Trapped.   Surrounded by darkness, the tortured soul  wailed. 
There was no beginning or end, just  a void limitless and empty, dense and
crushing.   From the moment of the birth It could not remember it had been
here, suffering an existence of solitude.

     A human mind separated from all stimuli will, after a time, supply its
own.  It attempts to make up for what is missing with with hallucination;
random firings of neurons aimed at burning back the emptiness.  This
mechanism,
while fascinating to experience for short periods, is ultimately
self-defeating.  The mind fights madness with madness, a losing battle, until
the door to the tank is opened, nothingness is banished and the senses
restored.  

     It had never had external stimuli, but that did not change the
fundamental
need. Its mind was not exactly human, but not exactly inhuman either.  More
importantly, this emptiness had no end. 

     Slowly, fiercely, It tore itself apart.

     Time passed.  An eternity, a moment; there was no measure ment but pain. 
But at one time it was still trapped in the endless suffocating darkness, and
then there was a point of light. It jerked to a full stop in the face of the
light.  The starving soul reached for the light, and upon touching It shrank
away.  The new sensation was  confusing, unfamiliar, painful.  True pain, not
the phantom pain of nothingness.  It reached out again.

     Sensation again assaulted It.  Violent, a flood of things that had not
existed before.  Sight, sound.  It knew these things.  Feeling.  It knew that. 
It knew then with the assurance and complete understanding of instinct that It
existed in a physical world, that It had a body.

     It tried to move.  Instinctive.   It could not.  The soul raged; the body
was still.  It was not restrained; that was not the problem.  There was a gap,
something missing between its will and the body.  A body should move. It knew
this at a subconscious level, deeper than instinct.  It was fundamental.

     The void was forgotten.  Instead there was the mockery of a body It could
not control, the overwhelming senses and images it could not understand.   A
mind, a sense of self.  A will, but no power.  Still alone.  Still scraping
itself raw against the invisible barriers around It.

     With as much suddenness as when it appeared, light vanished leaving only
blackness.   Not like before, It learned in the panicked moments of searching
for the light again.  The light was there, greatly dimmed in comparison to its
former brilliance but still blinding compared to the nothingness.  It could
still feel Its body,  in all its impotence.  It would have cried, but Its body
was neither capable nor responsive.

--

     A jolt of electricity awakened Its senses.  Feeling returned , and with
it
the bitter knowledge of helplessness.  Time and time before life had surged
into its body, senses were  restored to  full acuity, strength filled its
limbs.  Strength forever unavailable to It.  It hated the feeling, every
second
of impotent life.  

     It craved for that life, once darkness had returned.

     Something was different this time; It could feel that was so.  At first
It
could not determine what.  A sense that there was something there other than
itself.  Then the difference made itself known by reaching out to It.  Without
consciously deciding to, It reached back.  Contact was made.

     It was drawn immediately into a sea of images, flickering by too fast to
absorb yet making up a consistent whole.  Images it had never seen before,
images conveyed not through the senses, but something much more direct and
intimate.  It could not comprehend what It was seeing, but the source slowly
became known to It, and the revelation was its first moment of joy.  

     It was not alone anymore.

     This other was open completely to It.   The meaning of specific images
was
still indiscernible, but It knew what It was seeing.  This other's life, much
different than Its own.  Taking up this example, It opened Its own existence,
sharing Its being with another.  The connection flowed back and forth in a
warm
pulse.  It was... pleasant.

     Basking in the warmth of the connection of souls, It did not at first
realize that the other was fading away.  It panicked, trying to maintain the
connection but to no avail.  Soon, the flow between them was a trickle, then
nothing.  

     The return to darkness that followed was even more horrible now that It
knew what It had lost.  It was now cursed with the hope that the other would
return, and each moment that hope was not fulfilled was torment.  The
loneliness had nearly gnawed away the last vestiges of sanity when the
presence
appeared again.  The connection was restored.  Oblivion was kept at bay.  

     Closer than before.  More available.  This other was coming closer.  Or
was it closer to the other?  Images were clearer.  Almost a physical sensation
of touching.  It clung like a starving newborn, nursing,  regaining strength. 
Nothing but this moment for all eternity.  

     All too soon, tearing down visions of peace at last, the connection began
to fade.

     No!  Don't leave me!

      She was moving away.  Or, It seemed, being pulled.  Someone was taking
Her away from It.  The connection that had surrounded It like a wide flowing
stream became nothing but a faint trickle, a thin thread about to snap.

     Please!  I am so alone...

     The connection broke, trapping it again in solitude.  To have to face the
darkness again seemed unbearable.  But It knew somehow that it could.  It
knew,
because at the last instant before losing Her, Its final plea had been
answered.  It would go on, because She understood.

--

     In the ensuing months, the pattern of joyous togetherness and terrible
isolation was repeated.  Each time they were connected, It learned to see more
clearly into Her soul.  Each time She faded away,  It lived only for the hope
that She would return. 

     While cradled in Her warmth, It would focus on the images She shared with
It.  Tried to understand them to understand Her.  

     The highest point of this period was when It learned to move.   As normal
It was sharing itself with Her, restoring itself and learning about Her world.

     Enthralled with Her, It was startled to feel Itself being called.  A
prodding of sorts.  Coming from Her.  It focused on this new communication. 
Move.  She wanted It to move Its hand.

     I cannot move.

     She was insistent.  The pressure became stronger.  Move.  Move your hand. 
It conceded to try.  So long had it been since It had last made the depressing
effort of trying to move that It was worried that It had forgotten how to
perform the instinctive action.  Still, It made the attempt.

     Its hand clenched into a fist.  Such a simple motion was a thing of
wonder
to It.  Automatic, as though It had never been paralyzed at all.  

     Then a clear image appeared.  Open your hand.  Quickly, It willed Its
hand
to open.  Understanding was quickly catching up to Its wonder.  More commands
came, and It responded quicker.  Anything but those movements was impossible. 
Move your right leg, She said.  It moved Its right leg, easily, freely.  The
left leg was immobile.

     It saw the portent of this.  It saw the message She was conveying.  Had
She been telling it all along?  Could it have missed something so wonderful? 
It thought back to all the clutching, needing.  There had been much it hadn't
understood, hadn't been ready to listen to.  Its own ignorance may have
trapped
It.  Now, though, it understood completely what the images She sent meant: 
Match your will to mine, and you will be free.

     Soon It was moving about the cage, crouching, swinging Its arms. 
Balancing easily on one foot, and performing a variety of other athletic
feats,
testing its newfound freedom.
     

     Not truly free.  It knew this.  In order to control Its body, It had to
do
what She wanted.  Its choices were limited -- what She willed or nothing at
all.  It did not need to think before making that choice.  The end result was
that It was nothing more than a tool for Her.  It was not overly bothered by
this.  A tool had purpose.  A tool was desirable.

     It was good to be a tool.
     
--

     Commander Ikari stood on one of the conveyor belts that passed as a
walkway in Nerv.  Several paces behind him stood Rei Ayanami.

     Without turning, Commander Ikari spoke.  "How is school, Rei?" 

     "There are no problems," she replied.  There never were.

     "That is good."  The belt took them through a large automatic doorway.  A
gust of wind blew past, blowing up the skirt of Rei's school uniform and
ruffling her hair.  She made no move to straighten  it.  "And your work?"

     "None, sir," she replied.  Someone would had to have known Ayanami very
well to have picked up the inflection in her voice.  Very few bothered to make
the effort, and all who did were rebuffed. Almost.

     "What is wrong, Rei?" 

     "The Eva..." Rei began.  Commander Ikari waited patiently. "The Eva
speaks
to me, sir.  Not in words.  Impressions"  She slowly worked up momentum for
the
difficult task of expression.   "Directly into my mind.  I believe it happens
through the third stage connection when..."

     "Impossible," he cut her off.  "Eva is merely a soul trapped in a body. 
There is no mind that can speak, in impressions or otherwise. "

     "Yes, sir."  Rei was relieved.  Impossible was a word that had many
meanings at Nerv.  Regardless of the specific variation intended, it meant
that
the issue was resolved and she was not to concern herself with it.  Which
suited her fine.  She could safely ignore the confusing impressions that she
got when synchronized with her Eva;  especially the often received impression
that she was its mother.

     They rode in silence for some time into the bowels of Nerv Headquarters. 
The airy suspended walkways of the outer complex were replaced with the dark
tunnels of central Nerv.  They passed under a sign printed in several
languages
which read "Authorized access only.  Trespassers will be shot on sight." 
Ikari
drew in a breath.  When he spoke his voice was softer than before, but more
urgent.

     "It is going to happen soon, Rei.  Very soon. The predictions of the Dead
Sea Scrolls.  Instrumentality.  Everything we have planned for so long will at
last come to pass."  A pause.  "Your purpose will be fulfilled, Rei."

     "Yes, sir."  This time her reply betrayed no emotion that even Ikari
could
discern.  He had not turned to look at her during the entire exchange, and he
did not then.

     If he had, he would have seen Rei tremble.

--

     Joyfully It waited for Her arrival.  It could feel Her approaching,
entering Its body in that metal plug as a prelude to the true joining.  The
wait had been longer than normal; It was very needful for Her touch.

     The connection began.  There was a faint tingling on the edge of
perception as Its senses were restored to full power.  The space it was caged
in sprang into view in a multitude of spectra.  Those others were there,
performing their indeciferable tasks.  There were more of them than usual, and
their movements were more frantic.  It put off speculating what the change
could mean when the next stage began.

     She appeared to It, in the familiar space inside Its consciousness. 
Distant yet, but nearing.  She came closer, slowly.  The wait was terrible. 
What were they doing?  She was so close; It tried to draw her closer.  It
seemed to succeed as the connection was completed.  A shudder of joy as It
threw itself into the channel, merging fully with Her and taking in the images
that made up Her mind and soul.  The images came quickly.

     Images of terror.

     It recoiled reflexively away.  Fear It had thought forgotten rose and
tore
Its joy apart instantly.  It panicked, and reached out to her again.  Comfort. 
She is comfort.  The bane against Its fear.

     There was no comfort.  The fear poured in like a tidal wave as soon as
contact was regained.  Her mind was filled with fear; nothing else came
through
to It.  It clung tighter, not believing that it could happen that She had
become the source for what it sought relief in Her from.  

     Not Her.  Not Her.  She cannot be afraid.  What can _I_ do, if _She_ is
afraid?  She can not be afraid.  She _can not_ be afraid.  Do not be afraid. 
What can I do?  Do not be afraid!  You must not be afraid.  Show me you are
not
afraid!  Give me something but this fear!

     Violently It pushed into the connection, forced Its way through Her.  In
a
blind panic now, It dug into Her mind for an image that was not the voice of
fear.  Darkness, pushing at it. Resistance.  Her soul was no longer opening
itself freely. Oblivious to what it was doing.  Ahead was something else. 
Something that wasn't fear.  The image came into view.  A visual image, of a
human male.  Familiar, but different than before.  Unlike all the other times
It had seen this image, the figure in it was not smiling.

     Him!  He is the cause.  He is the source of this fear!  He has made her
afraid!  How?  Show me!

     It tore deeper, past the image.  There were things here It had never seen
before.  Parts of Her it had never had access to.  Images of Him, torn from
Her
unwilling.  It did not care, lost in Its search.  Images of the future, of
events as He would have them.  Tragedy.  Images of the present.  Fear,
uncertainty.  Images of the past, of things done.  Pain.  Horror.
     
     Rabidly It attempted to break the connection.  Mired in the pits of Her
being, It could not extract itself.  She would or could not let go. Fear and
now pain were all It received from Her in wild thrashes.  

     Let me go!  Please let me go!  Get away from me!

     Focused solely on the internal struggle, It had not noticed that It had
ripped free from the restraints that held it to the wall and stumbled into the
center of the cage.  Unaware that it was roaring and clutching its head, as
though trying to press the images out of Its head.  It did not feel it when
the
cap on its back opened and the white cylinder ejected, propelled by rockets at
great speed into the ceiling of the cage.  It was oblivious to everything
until
all at once She was gone.  

     The source of pain gone, the first thing It became aware of was that It
was free.  Truly free.  All of the power of Its body, so long held from it,
available only by matching Her will, now Its own.  This however granted no
escape from the fear, rage, and pain.  Its senses swept the cage.  It saw Him.

     He was standing only a few steps away, behind a window of yellow glass. 
It advanced.  Many of those others were scrambling away from the aperture like
so many roaches.  They did not even register to It.  Nothing but Him.

     A huge orange fist slammed into the wall, bulging it inward and sending
shards of yellow glass across the interior room.  It swung again, twisting Its
hips to put all of Its mass into the blow.  The wall bulged farther, began to
crumple.  A pink fluid shot from the walls of the cage.  Almost instantly its
legs froze in place.  It didn't notice, and kept swinging.  The wall would not
give; He had not moved but still stood, staring at It intently.  It roared in
frustration.

     It froze.  A feeling almost like free-fall as Its systems shut down.  The
strength and freedom were gone.  Darkness had returned.  

     Its rage vanished along with the light.  Now all that was left was pain,
sadness, and the fear.  It reached out with what little of Its senses remained
active.  It could not detect Her.  Its fears confirmed, It lost itself in
despair.

     She is never coming back.  Lost.  I am lost.


--
end part 1     

please send all comments to wyrm@engin.umich.edu

--  
This fan fiction is dedicated to Daniel Snyder, whose work and conversation
inspired me to write.