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NEON GENESIS EVANGELION
SHATTERED REFLECTIONS 




FUYUTSUKI

I have never doubted which of them is more cruel. 

Gendo may orate grandly about Instrumentality and Dead Sea Scrolls
and the Third Impact in rolling words that fill you with hope, joy, 
and pride, but only Yui can calmly change Shinji's diaper while 
stating that she will - no, already has, in a sense - sacrifice her 
only son in order to... what? Leave a sign that Humanity WAS here, 
a brief light shining desperately? A declaration that would last 
until the suns grew dim and all worlds fall to darkness?

Yui was the one that shaped Gendo's unforged steel into a razor's
edge which would split the world.

Oh, she may try to cover it up in language, but the look in her
eye convinces me that she would gladly throw herself, her son,
her husband, and even the world upon the bonfire, if it would 
lead to what she _wanted_, what she _needed_. The light of a 
fanatic burns in her eyes, and sometimes it's hard to face the 
part I had in this. She found something to believe in, and all 
I found was old age.

Some years later, when a certain young doctor asked me why Rei 
was so cold, so... distant, when she remembered Yui being so 
warm, so caring, I could only stare mutely, the words that I
wanted to say not coming from my throat. I honestly tried not
to laugh, knowing that it would offend her, but I failed, and
the poor young woman stormed off. I'm afraid she never looked
at me the same again.

The truth is, Rei _was_ Yui, in so many ways that even I only
begin to comprehend. The difference was that... well... Rei
just didn't care for the mask that Yui had to put on just to
avoid being ostracized.

I'm not saying that Yui was insane but rather that... hmm,
all right, that's what I am saying. But... being a prophet, 
having seen the future in a collection of rotting scrolls, 
knowing that you were fated to die just to give your only son 
a chance to bring humanity true happiness, without knowing if 
that chance will ever play out because that's where the scrolls 
end... I could excuse a bit of madness. Hell, I'm not certain 
I could have remained sane myself.

Regardless, I see the light of a true fanatic burning in her 
eyes, and I wonder if it will all be worth it in the end. 

It will be, of course, but we all know the price to be paid for
returning to Paradise. 

The Apple, once eaten, could not be returned into the hands
of God so easily.



AYANAMI

I was the beginning.

My soul was woven deep into the pattern of this kabuki dance,
masks upon masks upon masks, hiding the truth from not only 
our foes but ourselves. 

I am the end.

Now is the time for the dance to end, our wild revels done,
and all masks to be removed. The hour is midnight, and we 
have come full circle. 

What God could not do, Man has done. The wyrm bites his own 
tale, no doubt wondering where the faint sensation of pain 
comes from...

But...

Is this all I was meant for?

Why am I?

It should not be important.

Who am I?

I am I. 

But why? What is the purpose of me? 

A doll, dancing upon strings that I cannot ignore yet must?

A young woman, forced from the circle of her race and into 
another circle damned from its inception, spiraling ever 
downward?

A vampire goddess, to gently whisper, "It is not to be 
feared..." to a thousand thousand of thousands?

A midwife, prying a newly birthed god from a moribund
universe?

I remember... I watched the way that the dance went on around 
me, and found only wonder in that none searched out the important 
question to ask, only finding fleeting shadows, not knowing 
what they were looking for. Not even I could see the question,
except at the very edge of my perception, dancing its own
mocking dance, not wearing a mask for it had no need of one.

Should humanity exist? Why?

That is not the question.

I look into Kaoru's eyes, that are also my own, reflecting 
nothing onto nothing,  and wonder if he knows the question. 

He looks back at me blankly, and I remembered the old aphorism
that dead men tell no tales.

In that case, why am I talking?

Did Shinji suffer me to live after all?

Or am I just to stubborn to admit that I should be dead?

Am I a ghost? 

Who am I?

There is no other way to answer that other than:

I am I, and that is truth.

But why am I?

It is not important, but I shall ask it anyway. 

That question must be answered, _will_ be answered by Shinji, 
boy-god, the Young King, the blood price that magic demands. 
I triggered Instrumentality to put the answer in his hands, 
and I wait here to hear it from his lips.

But... it is cold... here... waiting...


IKARI

I've always found it amusing that everyone thinks good always
triumphs over evil. I mean, come on people, figure it out, 
statistically good can only win about 50% of the time...

And anyway (according to history) the 'good guys' were 
the ones who triumphed, talked to a good PR man who wrote
up a nice story about how the other guys were evil dudes 
who sacrificed perfectly useful virgins and ate babies with 
tartar sauce (although I'd prefer something a bit more sour, 
to counteract the sweetness of the young meat, if you catch
my drift) when all they were trying to do was crush some 
heads.

I guess all that means I'm the good guy. Which made Ritsuko 
the (if you'll pardon the slight pun) bad girl. Which made 
me right when I did what I had to do.

Right makes might. Or might makes right. Which came first? Hmm.
An interesting paradox, don't you think? I run one hand through 
the lake of LCL idly, waiting for the end, and try to remember 
when I'd first decided that this end justified the means.

I'm certainly thinking in cliches today. I wonder if that's a
sign of insanity, like talking to yourself? Wouldn't surprise 
me one bit. 

But as I look out at Ritsuko's floating corpse, staining the 
LCL with her blood, an odd thought occurs to me. Who's going 
to take care of her cats after all this is over?

For some strange reason, that question worries me a lot more
than it should. Why should I care? She tried to stop me, she
tried to stop Instrumentality, just as her mother had so many
years ago, both for the same reason: love, or lust, or jealousy,
or whatever the fascination was that the both of them had for me.
I hadn't understood her mother, and I most certainly hadn't
understood Ritsuko, but I had used them as far as they would
let me. And when they had each decided to turn in my hands...

I broke them, as I would any defective tool.

Why should I give a damn for their damned souls?

Maybe I am going crazy.

Maybe I am crazy.

I chuckle at the maudlin turn my thoughts have taken. Putting
my head back into my hands, I stare up at the ceiling and said
aloud pointedly, "Does it matter?"

And I have to answer myself, "No, not particularly."


AUTHOR'S NOTES

Well, this was a much-needed revision... from my point of view.
I'm not sure about the new Rei bit, but it needed work anyway, so why
not do it that way?

Oh yeah, don't plan on seeing a revision for each and every one of
these I do. The first version of these three were just a toe in the
water (so to speak).

C&C welcome!

Aaron Bergman
imfanboy@hotmail.com
"Why is the line between good roleplaying and
 paranoid schizophrenia uncomfortably thin..?"
 -Dork Tower (can't remember chara's name right now...)

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