Note: I was thinking about Ayanami's quietness, and things I'd like
installed, so . . .
Disclaimer: Eva is Gainax's. It's licensed by ADV and Mangle. I
just buy
kits and DVDs and write fanfic. Sigh.
Ayanami the Wirehead
by
Suika Roberts
`Stage Two clear,' Ibuki-san's voice says.
I really should put this story aside, this is important. I
read the
next line anyway, unwilling to divert my attention.
Something _twitches_ inside my head, outside of my mind, but
just
barely. My concentration shattered, I leave the story.
"Out!" I tell it. It doesn't listen, continuing to run soft,
slimey
fingers over my mind, over _me_. "Out! Out! OUT!" I yell, as loudly as
I can,
pushing, twisting, trying to bite, to grab, to get rid of this thing
that's
inside my _head_!
Suddenly it's gone, in a reasuring rush of acceleration as the
plug
ejects.
*DONG* I jerk upward, that isn't supposed to happen, I think,
as
*DONG* the side of the plug reaches out and slams into my hand, which
folds,
then my elbow, which doesn't, and there's a little crackle that I feel
more
than hear. It should hurt a lot more than this. The LCL is getting
uncomfortably warm. The roar of rocket motors cuts off, and I suddenly
notice
they had been running.
My guts go rather queer as the plug falls. I look at the
command
couch, hanging there in front of me, which had been down, and probably
still
was. It really looked like it would--
*DONG* The couch smacks me in the face.
`Rei!' Ikari-shirei says, pulling me from the still too-warm
LCL. I
pause a moment, to wonder what just happened, then remember. I wince,
too.
_Now_ it hurts. Quite a lot, really.
*
`Prepare to sortie,' Ikari-shirei says, or something like that,
and
something about the spare being useless.
I reply as expected, `Hai,' not taking my mental eyes from my
place in
the book. Machiavelli knew people. Not that I have much unmediated
contact
with them, but he read them right. It's sort of sad.
Another nurse comes, and they help me into a modified plugsuit.
I
wonder if LCL is good for wounds. A couple orderlies transfer me to a
gurney,
and haul me off. I'd thought Zerogouki was frozen, still. My fingers
wiggle
as I tap the tactical net, oh, they want me in Shougouki. Why? Oh,
Third
Children is refusing to pilot. If he knows what happened to me, but
not why,
that might be resonable . . . He just arrived today. Hmm. Oh well.
I leave
the tac net alone, and Machiavelli, and turn back to the current story,
a
lovely little Picard/Q piece that's ten years older than I am . . .
I finish half a frameworth by the time they get me there. I
might
have finished more, but I keep loosing my place when they jolt me.
*JOLT* The gurney falls over, and I fall out. It isn't
pleasant.
There's a boy, maybe my age, maybe a little younger, holding me.
That's odd. I reach out so I can steady my hand on his shoulder, and
find my
place. He dodges, and looks around, but I find my place anyway, and
shift my
focus from the pain, and try not to whimper at the thought of a thuddy
thing
against my back. Hmm, maybe if I had the thuddy thing? But who . . .
After a
bit, they have me back on the gurney, and the boy is gone, as is
Shougouki.
Looks like I won't have to pilot after all. That's good, I suspect. I
hope
he wins, since there's another three parts left of this story, and five
of the
sequel, and a couple of other stories as well, including one where she
genderfucks Picard. I really would like to be able to read them.
*Jolt*
Ick, I lost my place. I hate how my attention wanders when I'm tired,
or
hurt, or just pissed off.
*
---
Log:
2003/Dec/26: Was reading some Eva-fic, and thinking about how quiet
Rei is,
and how quiet I was at 14, and why I was quiet -- I had
my face
buried in books all the time, and had been since at
least the
fourth grade. At that point I'd finish a three hundred
page
novel in a day, and run through at least seven a week.
This
is part of why I'm here -- I learned to BS my way
through
classes and cover for my reading habit, rather than
study.
Since I was quiet and, apparently, studious, my
teachers let
me get away with it.
Ayanami doesn't walk around with her nose in a book,
but if I
had some sort of skull-comp, I wouldn't either ^_^
2003/Dec/26: Started, log added.
-------------------------cut
here----------------------------------------
Anyway,
Suika (who decided to start posting again)
--
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp.
Acids stain you,
And drugs cause cramp.
ssfr@mac.com
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give.
Gas smells awful--
You might as well live!
-- Dorothy Parker, "Resume", 1926
--
Code for crashing IE under windows (Until they fix it)
<html><form><input type crash></form></html>
<ssfr@mac.com>
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