Prologue

If someone had told me ten years ago that Rei and I would end up doing something like this... I would have laughed in their face. That's not a figure of speech; I really would have laughed in their face.

Me and Rei, write her biography? Together?

Well, here it is. Not much else for you to do but read it, now that you've bought it. Unless you haven't bought it yet, and are presently standing in the bookstore. If that's the case, you should probably give this book a chance. Ayanami still isn't the most communicative person, but, against all odds, she has managed to become my friend. That fact alone is reason enough to read this book.

I'll tell you right now that this isn't something we did for fun. It wasn't easy for either of us, and it might not be so easy for you, either. Rei Ayanami is more than an enigma, and even I don't pretend to understand her completely. Not after writing this book. Not with my extensive education in psychology. Even with all the progress she's made, she's still somewhat of a mystery to me, and she can still count all of her friends on one hand. She still isolates herself from others. She still can't communicate with other people. And so I'll be the one to present her story.

I've taken the liberty of assuming certain things that she was vague about, but only for the sake of the reader. Her true intent has been left completely intact. In many instances, I've kept her original words, just as she spoke them. Hell, I was tempted to just transcribe the whole thing. But she asked me to do this, so I did it. I have described the events of this woman's life in my own words, to the best of my understanding. So here it is. The biography of the strangest girl ever 'born'.

She is an enigma, and you can't understand her. But maybe, just maybe, you can accept her. I know I have.

Now read the damn thing.

Asuka Langley Sohryu






Shadows from the filtered sunlight
A strange feeling of never… white
Hidden shadows hear my secret
'Each and every day is worthless.'

And every day was just the same,
Sighing, spoke, 'What a hopeless game.'

In this room the desperation
With a streak of mad elation
Beats with a still-silent madness
Just as my heart beats endlessly.

So every day was just the same,
Sighing, spoke, 'What a hopeless game.'


Chapter One: Isolation


"My first memory of life is my own death."

Those were the first words she spoke to me in one of our long recorded sessions that we had in preparation for this book. That one sentence explains Rei Ayanami better than anything I can think of. It just doesn't make sense… how can someone who's died still be alive to remember it? And as the very first memory? It's a sentence so unique that you'd only hear it from one person.

Rei is unique in many ways. Her eyes have taken in so much, always open, but her mouth has been forever closed. Her entire life has been locked away, kept secret. No one knew her. She didn't even know herself.

I should say that, prior to those private interviews, Rei had told me nothing about her past. It was a silent understanding between the two of us that the past was something we just wouldn't talk about. Hearing her story for the first time, hearing her pour out all of her secrets... It was more than horrifying. That's what this book is; a huge collection of terrible secrets given directly from the source.

The first of these has to do with Rei's first memory. It's a memory from her first life. It's pretty horrible, and it's also something that I wasn't aware of before we started working on this book.

She was murdered as a child. Her first memory is of Dr. Naoko Akagi's cruel face, the woman's hands gripping tightly around her throat. Her eyes, which I guess must have held some spark of innocence in them, rose to the ceiling, filled with tears. Full of pain, fear, all kinds of emotion. I just can't imagine it, looking at her now. Rei's always seemed like an unfeeling bitch to me, to be perfectly honest. I never really completely stopped thinking of her as an automated marionette. Even today, I still can't imagine her expressing that kind of emotion, even in death. Listening to these recorded sessions, there are a lot things I just can't imagine.

I'm glad for it.

"You can be replaced…!"

When Rei woke up in her second body those words took on a very different meaning then the good doctor intended. Rei knows today that Naoko didn't meant 'replaced' literally, but to Rei, a little child, her words made complete sense. She was told 'You can be replaced,' and then it happened. No explanation needed. She was obviously the replacement. What child would be able to question that situation? I guess it would even seem ordinary after a while.

Her own death, still fresh on her mind, lost it's importance. Death had taught her a couple of things about the way people really were, and it had taught her about the nature of the world, but it hadn't changed anything in the end. Death lost all significance.

"There was no space between my death and rebirth. After I was strangled, I awoke immediately in a new body. That experience, in retrospect, would seem like proof to me that death is nothing but emptiness."

How is it that she remembers her own death? Rei can clearly describe the event, but it didn't really happen to her. Curious, I spoke with Dr. Ritsuko Akagi about this.

Dr. Akagi has more knowledge regarding Rei's condition than anyone alive today, and she insisted that it would be flat-out impossible. She maintains that Rei shouldn't have remembered anything about that first life.

Rei disagrees.

"I knew, then, as a child, the exact reason. Floating in the light-colored orange liquid as two strangers examined me, two strangers who slowly became familiar. I knew the truth, then. My body was nothing but an empty shell, and my soul had been taken out of one and put in another. I had been replaced, and my soul had somehow carried my memories, or at least that one last memory. I'm sure of it."

They left her in the tank, which would then come to be used as the foundation for the dummy plug system. This tank was used to store her memories so that her new self, born without a soul, wouldn't be helpless in the real world. It was useful mainly because it allowed her to speak, think, and operate as a normal human being. They didn't expect her to be the same person.

They left her there for a long time, and it's not really clear whether it was for several days or several weeks. There was no way for her to keep track of the time anyway, and I'm sure she didn't care. She was perfectly content to do absolutely nothing. So she sat there, sleeping whenever she wanted, submerged in the warm LCL. LCL is something that I've had a lot of experience with, but my experience is nothing compared to hers. She was raised on the stuff. She prefers breathing LCL to breathing air.

Being surrounded constantly by the liquid was a great comfort to her, and it was an easy for her to temporarily forget the fact that she'd just been murdered. For that short period of time, all of her needs were taken care of. She had no desire to leave it. For Rei, that chamber was similar to a mother's womb.

Actually, now that I think about it, a mother's womb is something that Rei never really experienced. Could that be part of why she isolates herself?

"It was very nice, I remember. I was always wanting to go back."

Eventually, she was removed from the transparent tank by two men; Gendou Ikari and Kouzou Fuyutsuki. Now, keep in mind that she had been in there for some time, surrounded by LCL in that artificial womb. Being removed from that place, her own strangulation still fresh on her mind, had to have been a traumatic experience. She wouldn't comment on this, but I'm sure that she must have been very frightened.

She remained completely silent as they washed her and dressed her, not capable of speaking. Normally, this would have been done by a pair of nurses, but she clearly remembers that it was the two of them. After she was washed and dressed, Gendou tried to explain things to her, in his own unique way. I think Rei can explain it better.

"Gendou spoke to me as he stood there, in that way he always stood when he was speaking to me. He never kneeled down for my sake. He didn't lower his face to my level. He always seemed so much higher. I didn't think him an evil person, at the time, for doing this. In my young eyes he was simply too tall and too immense to stoop down. Too tall to lower himself to my level, too immense to treat me as if I had worth.

"'Do you understand what has happened to you, Rei?' he asked me. I couldn't respond, of course. I wasn't capable of speech at that point. I felt sure that the horrible woman would return and strangle me.

"'Rei, what is the last thing you remember?' he asked me, and my hands went to my throat without thinking. I started sobbing. Head down, I walked towards the tank, shuffling my feet. My hands were still covering my neck.

"He caught me in his arms before I could get far. He tried to comfort me, making soothing noises. I sometimes doubt my own memory at this point. Thinking of it now, it seems ridiculous.

"I buried my head in his chest, shaking uncontrollably, my hands still covering my neck. He held me, saying nothing. I will not describe this further. I cannot explain Gendou Ikari. I don't understand him, and I never will."

He took Rei back to his office, maybe leading her, maybe carrying her. He set her down in his chair, and she sat there mutely, staring down at his desk. He starting talking to her, trying to comfort her, I guess.

He spoke to her as if she were an adult, as if she could actually comprehend the reality of what had happened to her. What an idiot.

"Do you understand what has happened to you?" he asked. "You have died. We have put you in a spare body. There will be no problems."

He was trying to reassure her obviously, but how would that be reassuring? There was no emotion or empathy in his voice. Personally, I don't think he was even capable of empathy.

"Can you speak, Rei?" he asked.

"Yes," she said quietly, staring down at his desk.

"The last thing you remember is being choked?" he asked, insistently.

He had to know if that last memory had somehow carried over. Even at a time like that, the project was his first and only concern. Even as she sat there, traumatized, changed... He felt the need to interrogate. I don't think he ever really cared about her, no matter what she says.

"Yes," she said, her voice barely audible and empty of emotion.

A pause.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"I was starting to cope at this point, I think, and this may have been when I truly started to turn inwards on myself. But I don't think so. I don't think it was the shock of being removed from that place of safety that drove me to hide inside myself.

"I think it was that one last cruel statement, spoken in anger to a defenseless child. A seed of hate that somehow grew into a great fear and contempt of all people.

From that day onwards, Rei would be able to trust no one. I can't blame her. Apparently, she couldn't even trust herself.

I'll let her explain.

"Even my own actions would occasionally be suspect. I retained parts of my previous self that were unfamiliar. A sick and manic grin sometimes threatened to spread across my face, though I never let it out.

"I would observe critically every act of every person, though I said nothing. I trusted no one. When had I been given reason to trust? None of the children in school would speak to me. It was as if I was surrounded by an invisible wall that kept other people away. I never really experienced life as a teenager, or even as a child. My premature death had forced me to maturity, forced me to become an adult.

Not many can relate to this. It doesn't fall neatly into any category. It isn't Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It isn't Asperger Syndrome or High Functioning Autism. It certainly isn't Rett's Disorder, or Childhood Disintegrative Disorder. The evaluations almost always came out the same. Pervasive Developmental Disorder- Not Otherwise Specified. PDD-NOD. In other words, a mental disorder that can't be easily defined.

But even that isn't the truth, not by far. She didn't have a 'disorder' that caused her to act the way she did. No, it was a decision that she made. It was a method of protection that she chose herself.

"I am not human, not animal, not angel. My species has never been clearly defined. I am simply 'Rei'. Made to be one of a kind, and then copied for the sake of convenience.

Gendou took it upon himself to teach Rei everything that she needed to know. She would have to take care of herself for the most part, so he taught her the basics. He taught her how to keep herself clean. He told her that she would have to change her underwear every day. He taught her about nutrition, and exercise. In that apartment, where she would eventually be left alone, he gave her a crash course on life.

He could only teach her what he himself knew, of course. He couldn't teach her about making friends, but he could teach her about influencing people. He could teach her about cooking, but he couldn't teach her about the joy of it. In his defense, he could teach her about both pride and prejudice, but I still can't imagine a worse teacher.

"Rei, this is a toothbrush."

She knew what a goddamned toothbrush was. She wasn't a completely new person, but he treated her as if she was.

"It is important to brush your teeth every day. Move the bristles from side to side. Scrub the front, the back, and the gums."

What does Rei think about all this?

"It was necessary. There were certain things I had to know. I don't see the problem." Whatever.

He stayed with her at first, in a small apartment. Rei was careful to mention that this was not the same apartment in which he had lived with Yui.

"I wondered why he didn't stay in the same place he had lived with his wife. Shinji Ikari answered this question for me when he asked his father if he had kept any pictures her. No, he had obliterated all physical evidence. Thrown everything away. Except me."

Most of her time was spent at Nerv, a place that was both familiar and terrifying to her. It would be a long time before she would become comfortable with that place again. Ironically, I feel something similar these days, thinking back on my final days at Nerv...

Sorry Rei, didn't mean to bring myself up again. You know it's my favorite subject. Back to the story.

She would follow him around the Nerv premises like a shadow, a blank stare constantly on her face. If she wasn't with him for one reason or another, she would be in the care of one of the responsible adults. They would try to be kind to her at first, of course. At first, they would treat her as a normal child, thinking that she was just a little shy.

Much like Naoko Akagi, they would soon change their opinion of her. She was too quiet. She was too strange. She was too mature for her age. She would stare at them, and it was as if their authority as adults vanished completely. They couldn't intimidate her, so they felt vaguely threatened by her.

"There was something inside me that looked to them for some kind of guidance. Standing there, my eyes locked with theirs in a cold stare, I wanted them to realize the true depths of my unhappiness. I didn't realize how frightening this would be to them. So, in reaching out for help, I only isolated myself."

On one of those first days, a woman approached Rei, smiling kindly. Rei didn't acknowledge her right away, and she probably seemed like a very shy and quiet girl at first glance. The Commander and Fuyutsuki were probably standing somewhere nearby, doing something important.

Rei met her eyes without really meeting her eyes, looking straight through her.

"Rei-chan, why don't you smile for me?" the woman asked.

It sounds easy enough. Anyone can smile, right?

But Rei didn't respond. The woman asked her to display an emotion, so she displayed a complete lack of emotion.

Makes her sound like a hypocrite, doesn't it? She complains about this deep sadness, but doesn't make any attempt to be happy. Shouldn't she have at least tried to smile? Isn't it hypocritical to say 'I looked to them for guidance', and then completely ignore the guidance that they give?

No, that's not hypocrisy. Hypocrisy is asking a little girl to smile without giving her a reason to be happy.

The woman, confused, left Rei alone, and didn't speak to her again. She was the first of the many adults that Rei would drive away. There wasn't a single person at Nerv, besides Commander Ikari of course, that could ever hope for any kind of connection with the girl. They were willing to be kind to her, yes. Under certain conditions.

Every relationship has two sides, like the two sides of a coin. The existence of any relationship is dependent on both sides; both people. In a land of nickels, quarters and pennies, Rei was foreign money.

Hell, she hadn't even been minted yet.

She didn't have the exploring eyes that most children have, or that endless energy that irritates so many parents. This gave people the impression that she was overly mature, so that's how she was treated, with almost the same respect that was given to the Commander. I know she said that it was her early death that made her overly mature for her age, but I think she's wrong. She isn't exactly a casual observer in this. So, I'm going to make a conjecture.

I don't think it was that single tragic incident that turned her into a girl that would say something like, 'Mankind fears the darkness, so he scrapes at it's edges with fire,' at the age of fourteen. It may have turned her into an isolated and suicidal loner, but it certainly didn't make her grow as a person.

That ageless wisdom she has is something that has always been there, cultivated by years of solitary thinking. Not exposed to the outside world as often as most people, her mind was like a blank slate. In that room, everything was hers to interpret, with no one around to feed her the garbage that every other child gets. Completely isolated, her strangeness gestated.

I've always wondered what sort of things she did when she was alone. Did she talk loudly when there was no one to hear her? Did she occasionally get a burst of energy and start hopping up and down? It would make sense if she did. Emotion that is repressed often comes out in other ways. But she didn't. She was always the same.

In fact, the idea that she might have acted differently in private was a little puzzling to her.

"I don't understand."

"Don't you have a secret side of yourself that you don't show to anyone?" That's me.

"I was willing to show to others anything that I was willing to show to myself."

Gee, thanks for another cryptic statement, Rei. Anyway, I should move on.

After the first couple of weeks, Gendou moved out completely. I guess he must have lived in the Nerv barracks from then on, assuming that he had to sleep sometime. Her life became very structured, in a way.

"I established a set pattern for my life, one that I became used to. I resisted change, but I desired death. This did not seem like a contradiction to me. No, death would be an eternal status quo. Eternal emptiness. This was my only desire."

She's scary sometimes, really.

School.

Now, Rei was just the sort of person who should have gone to Kindergarten, so of course she didn't go. She didn't even know about it until the first grade, which she attended at the age of six.

Other children were scared of her, sometimes.

"One morning, I was standing by myself in front of the school, waiting for the first day to begin. A child, seeing me for the first time, became frightened. She ran to her mother crying, 'Is she a monster?'

"What hope did I have of understanding others when their immediate reaction was always fear, or contempt? They would distance themselves from me before I even had a chance to distance myself from them."

I can't help but feel a little bit ashamed as I'm writing this, listening to Rei's monotone whispered words as they play. If I had been one of those children in her class, I would have taunted her. I would have hurt her, ignored her, and then gone on my merry way, convinced of my own superiority. I would have placed her beneath me.

But this book isn't about me, it's about Rei, so I'll go back to where I left off.

Rei was not often given guidance or emotional support from the teachers, but they taught her the things that all students have to learn in first grade. She wasn't an exceptional student, but she did what she was told. She learned simple mathematics, science, Japanese, and so on.

She also started learning how to play the viola, something that appealed to her for some reason.

"I liked to play music, sometimes."

She doesn't often say that she 'likes' anything, so that caught my interest.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what I said. I also liked to swim, and sleep. And I liked fresh air. I liked speaking with the Commander, when he was in that sort of mood."

Well, how about that.

She doesn't have many other early memories of the first grade. A good portion of her time was spent at Nerv, and she was absent often. When she did go to school, she wasn't ever willing to talk with the other children. They usually weren't all that eager to talk to her either, so she passed most of her days in school quietly and undisturbed. She does remember that her teacher once requested a conference with her parents, which leads us to the next scene.

The three of them sat in Rei's first grade classroom; Gendou Ikari, the Commander of Nerv, Rei's young first grade teacher, and Rei herself. The teacher, sitting across from Gendou, was pretty intimidated.

"Mr. Ayanami..." the teacher began.

"Ikari," he corrected, interrupting her.

"Oh, yes, I'm so sorry. I should have remembered that," she said, laughing nervously.

"What is the problem with Rei?" he asked coldly.

"Rei seems to have trouble dealing with the other children," the teacher explained, her tone easy and sympathetic, "She seems very unfocused in class."

He responded immediately, speaking quickly, "What do you want?"

Put off by his directness, the teacher drew back for a moment before replying, "Well... she just seems very distant. As if she's off in another place. I'm afraid she may be having problems at home."

"Is that all?"

"Uh, well... yes, I guess it is," she said, not sure how else to respond.

"Very well. I will handle it."

And with that, Gendou began his long history of neglect. He and Rei left the classroom. He didn't say a word. He didn't do anything at all to solve the 'problems at home' that he knew existed.

Why did he do it? Maybe he needed Rei to stay the way she was. Maybe he needed to be sure she wouldn't rebel against him. If she developed a personality, if she learned to talk to other people, she might rebel against him. As it was, he was the only person that gave her life meaning. Maybe he wanted to keep it that way. Personally, I think that's exactly how it was. Why else would he raise her the way he did?

Rei has a different opinion.

"Leaving me to fend for myself was, in his mind, the only possibility. This was the way he dealt with people."

"Couldn't he have left you with a responsible adult? Someone that he trusted?"

"No. He didn't trust anyone."

Not much of an excuse, is it? Well, I'll let her have her opinion.