001. accidental video/text + action.

[astrobleme]

Who: Shinji Ikari and everyone ever.
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: Marsiva, for all the new arrivals.
When: Right now, and he'll be available until the Shuffle, huddling in his bunk or counting the stars. Feel free to contact or approach him anytime.

[There's no explosion of sight or sound. No exposition. No questions. Nothing attention-grabbing at all. Just that omnipresent sci-fi hum and the sidelong view of a young boy, no older than fourteen or fifteen, lying on his back in one of Marsiva's complimentary bunks. The boy, Shinji, is staring straight upward at whatever is above him. He isn't animated except for the feeble rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The only noteworthy thing is what he's wearing: it appears to be a form-fitting wetsuit with rib-shaped accents and other curious details.

Ten seconds later, he hasn't moved. He doesn't acknowledge that he's somewhere very new, with yet another unfamiliar ceiling. Twenty seconds later, he hasn't moved. Thirty seconds later, he hasn't moved. By now, most new arrivals would probably figure out they're not where they're meant to be, for better or worse. They'll address the network instead of continuing to stare into nothingness with a distinctly corpselike quality to their face. But, one minute later, he's still staring listlessly. Two minutes. Five minutes. Ten minutes. He isn't aware of anyone or anything near to him. This is undoubtedly the most boring show in the universe, which might make it avant-garde--fifteen minutes. Twenty. Twenty-five.

A full half-hour later, for viewers with the patience to stick around, he still hasn't moved or said anything. (Hopefully you aren't watching this live, so you can just fast-forward through the eerie silence.) It's thirty minutes and thirteen seconds, exactly, when he looks to the side with a dry, audible creak of his neck. He's looking at the communication device. Maybe he recognizes it, but it's hard to tell what he's thinking. Even he can't tell what he's thinking. Then, unsteady enough to resemble a marionette, he reaches over to grab the device from where it's resting. The view dissolves into the dark purple blur of his palm.

Just before the odd broadcast cuts off, he appends a text message.]

Sorry. I didn't know.


action, aboard the Marsiva:

[Eventually, although he doesn't remember how, Shinji hauls himself out of the bunk bed. He shuffles like a zombie through the hospitality deck, heading for nowhere in particular. He's just walking forward. Lost in his thoughts, you could say, even though his thoughts amount to little more than a ripple of confusion.

At the grand bay windows of the ship, he stops moving. He stares. He stares harder. He takes in the vastness of space; it's exactly what he was looking for without realizing it. Again, painfully stilted, he presses one of his palms against the reinforced window. He doesn't recognize the stars (except he kind of does?) (strangely?), which is why he's fascinated with them. In what must be a different lifetime, he was a self-taught student of astronomy.]

One...

[His voice is hollow and weak, nearly lost between him and the window.]

Two, three... four...

[If Shinji seems to be counting the stars, that's because he is. The longer he counts out loud, the stronger his voice gets and the more aware he becomes of what he's counting, of where he is or he is not. This time, he'll actually turn his head to stare at anyone who approaches him, or even comes close to him. There's a meager sliver of humanity to him now. He looks like he wants to ask a question, but he can't figure out how to say it. His lips are numb.]

Comments

action

[interstices]

[Asuka's not sure what to feel right now. Bleak, maybe. Betrayed, definitely, though there seems to be no one here to vent her frustrations to properly. Nobody knows what's going on, from the looks of it. It ought to make her blood boil, it really ought to, but right now, she's still too overwhelmed. It's probably not a dream-- she doesn't dream much, thankfully, and rarely too vividly-- and probably not an afterlife, either. Asuka's mouth is so tightly pursed her lips aren't even visible, eye on the floor, as she settles for trying to count her paces in her head from one end of the deck to the other (if only to get a better idea of her surroundings, something to report), when a too-familiar, too-pathetic voice throws off her efforts.]

Shinji?

[Her head jerks up so fast it's nearly painful. Her first thought is incredibly stupid-- what's he doing here?, when he was with her last she remembered. She'd berated him for all his idiocy and every callous word had felt like it was hollowing her out like a tree exposed to too much rot. If anyone should be here with her, it should be him. But it still doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense at all.]

[She stalks to him, grabbing his arm. Staring at the stars, of course, always determined to figure out the furthest distance between two human beings. Well, whatever. Her next words are rattled out like clashing marbles.]

How long have you been here?

[astrobleme]

[In theory, Shinji could answer that question. The communicator device, if he recalls correctly, has a built-in clock for generating timestamps... He could go back to his bunk, retrieve the device, and tell her exactly how long he's been stranded here. But he's having trouble convincing his legs to uproot themselves. He can't even convince himself that any of what's happening is real. This isn't the first time he's woken up in a distressingly new place, but there's surreal and then there's surreal. The spaceship is crossing the line between surreal and surreal. Asuka, too, seems more surreal than she does surreal.

He blinks. He blinks again, just to confirm she isn't a smudge on his retinas. He blinks one more time, then he's left staring at her in silence, unable to convince his vocal cords to check back in. It's the same unsettling nonreaction as when he weathered all of her censuring. She's holding his arm, though, which is horrible and just as fascinating as the stars outside. She feels like the real deal, even though he can't trust his own nerve endings. The plugsuit was never thick enough to conceal the warmth of someone's hand. It bleeds right through him like spilled ink on tissue paper. He feels sick. He feels...

He feels less like a cadaver, silent and glazed over though he is.]

[interstices]

Well?

[He's not going to talk. That's more typical than it should be. The very last she remembered, Shinji had been something she yelled at and dragged instead of someone who moved on his own. He's still wearing that plugsuit from earlier. So is she.]

[His presence confirms it's either not a dream or not a pleasant dream. Her subconscious is pretty paltry, but she wouldn't imagine him strained and silent and irritating. Asuka can't recall the feeling of sensations in her dreams, either, but he's pretty warm even through the plugsuit. Asuka gnaws the inside of her cheek and gives him all of six more seconds to answer before pinching his bicep hard between her thumb and fingers. It's childish, but it should be effective. She'll get some reaction out of him yet.]

[astrobleme]

[There's pain. It's very far away, farther away than it should be. Shinji slowly looks down at where Asuka is pinching him. If her assault on the bulletproof glass is any indication, she's going to give him a nasty bruise. That's one way of knowing this is real. The figments of his imagination never left him with wounds that he could see the evidence of.

If his eyes are watering a little bit, it's only out of reflex. He has a high tolerance for pain even before you factor in the disconnect between his flesh and his brain. But, if she keeps on pinching him, he starts to feel more restless, ready to pull away. Just because he can tolerate pain doesn't mean he enjoys it. Now his eyes definitely have a wet gloss to them. He doesn't understand why she has to hurt him. He doesn't understand her.]

St... [Counting is easy compared to speaking freely. He tries again.] Stop, [he says, in the smallest voice ever.]

[interstices]

[She stops though his reaction is completely unsatisfying. He's like a wilted weed she's tossing fertilizer on. Not worth her time and the only thing worth her time, because he's the only thing that's familiar. Snapping him out of this might be impossible, but she doesn't have anything else to try.]

Say something.

[Tugging him with her had been easy when she'd had a destination in mind, but now, not knowing where to go, she's left at an utter loss. He probably won't answer her first question. In fact, he probably won't answer her second, either. Asuka takes a deep breath, and then says next, trying to force him to look her in her one visible eye--] What's the matter with you? We're stranded here. Don't you care?

action

[paraclete]

[There it is. There's the soul Kaworu's been missing most. It's big and overwhelming, and Kaworu has to close his eyes for a moment when he sees Shinji's back, out of sheer relief. That's how affected he is — he can't just smile and sidle in. This ripples through him.

They haven't actually been separated for long. Kaworu's waited lifetimes longer. But this matters on a grander level — seeing Shinji always matters, but what's happening right now is anomalous beyond anything Kaworu would have ever considered. Probably, it's even outside of the Commander's plans. Kaworu can't see this meddlesome mingling of life and death being indicated in whatever prophecies he's not allowed to read. This is something entirely unpredictable, which makes it frightening.

And surely Shinji is frightened, too. Despite his strength, he is delicate. He was crying when Kaworu saw him last...]

Ikari Shinji-kun... when did you start counting? [Now he can smile and sidle in. Now he can act like an old friend, a good dream, and pick up right where they left off. He settles one white hand on the window, four or five inches away from Shinji's.] There are very many.

[He's speaking too easily. Like there wasn't blood everywhere. Like Shinji wasn't begging. Like the collar didn't burst.]

[astrobleme]

[Shinji looks over at Kaworu when he's in the middle of the next number. The sound stops before his lips do, nerveless and rubbery. He looks back at the stars, trying to figure out where he was looking last. He seems to have lost track. He's lost track of his counting, too. He has to start all over again.] One, two... [He loses track. He has to start all over again.] One... [He loses track. He has to start all over again. He looks over at Kaworu, but then he loses track.

He loses track. He loses track. When he looks at the stars again, he isn't looking at the stars at all; he doesn't see the constellations he can't possibly remember. He's confronted with the dark space lurking in between stars. The apparent emptiness. The nothingness that yet serves a purpose. Focusing on the dark space is supposed to provide a reprieve from the hallucinations. He should have been expecting them, really. He used to talk to a curious memory of Ayanami, even before she disappeared. He should have been expecting him. He loses track. He used to talk to a curious memory of Ayanami, but the sound stops before his lips do, nerveless and rubbery. His eyes suddenly squeeze shut and his teeth grate together like tectonic plates of an uplifted earth.

He had no idea that he could be so angry and so afraid and so afraid at the same time.]

One.

[With his eyes shut, he doesn't lose track. It's a start.]

[paraclete]

[The smile stays for seconds. When it leaves, it does so slowly, like mist as the sun comes up. It was supposed to stay in place — was supposed to be a reassurance, something familiar and friendly — Come down here. Let's talk. Always smiling. Kaworu is always smiling. Some day, Shinji will be always smiling.

Neither of them smile now. Kaworu's face has paled beyond his normal pallor; he can feel all the blood draining from his face, leaving a chill in its place, goosebumps underneath his plugsuit, a drop in his gut. What he's watching now is wrong. Something is wrong...

He can realize, at least, that it's the sight of him which disturbed Shinji so deeply. He was already dazed when Kaworu came upon him, but this is worse than what Kaworu anticipated. These are cracks that turn into yawns, each edge moving further away from its other half with every sickened moment.]

Shinji-kun. [His eyes are wide enough to be obviously alarmed.] You're unwell. [He takes his hand from the window, and lays it instead atop Shinji's.]

[astrobleme]

Two... [Shinji tastes old chalk and sawdust. He tastes blood, too, because he's biting the inside of his cheek as hard as he can. That should be a sacrifice enough for him to keep his mind from wandering too far. Pain is a good motivator. Helps him to stay focused. He opens both of his eyes, only to shut them again when Kaworu reaches out for his hand. Pain is a good motivator. Pain can be more than what's physical--it's piercing his heart without breaking his skin.

His first instinct is to yank his hand away from Kaworu. However, it's simpler and safer to suffer through being touched, even when his body feels like an open wound. He wasn't sleeping much prior to Kaworu's death, and he certainly didn't sleep afterward, at least not that he knows of. He refuses to dream, because dreaming never led to anything good before.

Trying again, and again, he opens both of his eyes. He tastes old chalk and sawdust. He tastes blood, too, and it's adding a morbid tinge to his mouth when he says,] Kaworu-kun. [If his lips weren't so pale from shock, it would be harder to notice that.] You...

[text]

[thebloodseal]

Are you okay?

[Well, obviously something's up if this poor kid was staring blankly into space for so long, but part of Al can't blame him for that. Ending up here can be quite a shock.]

[text]

[astrobleme]

[It takes a while for Shinji to reply. Acclimation, after all.]

I should be used to it by now.

[text]

[thebloodseal]

Used to what? Waking up in a strange place with no idea how you got here?

[text]

[astrobleme]

Yes. I don't know why it keeps happening.

Is this a punishment?

video.

[truthvalue]

[Souji hasn't been watching the broadcast from the start, but he does watch it long enough to be alarmed. New arrivals typically wake up with questions, anger, confusion - not this.]

Are you all right?

text.

[astrobleme]

[For some reason, it's easier for Shinji to reply with a text message. His fingers don't freeze in the way his vocal cords do.]

Am I supposed to be all right?

video.

[truthvalue]

[Well ... OK, that's not exactly the response Souji hoped for, but it's an answer, which is better than near catatonia.]

I don't know. People usually are, when they get here. They have questions, though.

permatext.

[astrobleme]

Am I supposed to ask questions? [... Shinji is already asking questions, but he would like to know what's expected of him, going forward.]

video

[electrostatics]

Are you sick or something? [ Tactful. ]

text

[astrobleme]

[Shinji can appreciate a simple question with no pitfalls. He replies in text, though. It's exhausting to speak.]

I can't feel my fingers.

text

[electrostatics]

[ He might as well match it. This kid's obviously some kind of invalid, at least that's what Elecman thinks. ]

Well, you're using them to type, so they seem to be functioning properly. They probably won't drop off from poor blood circulation, then.

Were you in hospital before you got here? Atroma's inconvenient like that.

text

[astrobleme]

I don't want my fingers to fall off.

A hospital? Not that I know of. It was red everywhere. Dry. What is Atroma?

[geonomy]

[... Awww, kiddo.]

its ok

how r u feeling??

[Because he really doesn't look well, if all that footage of him just laying there says anything.]

[astrobleme]

I don't know.

How am I supposed to feel?

[geonomy]

u dont have 2 make urself feel anything if u dont feel it

so is that what ur feeling

nothing??

[astrobleme]

It's like the opposite of nothing. Everything? Trying to get through all at once.

Does that make sense?