Inside the Heart of Metal
By ChibiQuatre (7/4/00)
Yet another GW disclaimer: well, do you all REALLY want me to write a disclaimer?! We all know that I don't own GW (though God KNOWS I wish I did!). The GW boyz r'nt mine, never were, never will b. They are owned by their respective creators; Sunrise, There...happy!!! ((oh, and any trouble translating the japanese, I'll b happy to help!))
*A/N: 2 tell da truth, i don't no where i got this idea. i no there r yaoi-luvers out there...i just wanted 2 say that i didn' really intend there 2 b any yaoi here, but if u wanna read it that way, fine -- b my guest! i just don't want any disparaging comments, that's all. u understand ^_^ other than that, i have nothing else 2 say, except for rate n review minna!
I stood back and admired my masterpiece.
It had been maintained, serviced, repaired, and refueled. All the scratches had
been polished, leaving the surface as refined and flowy as glass and burnished
to a sheen. Looking into it was like staring into a lustrous mirror.
Don't get me wrong, I loved my Gundam. Perhaps not as much as Duo or Wufei,
but sometimes, I cared for it as if it were a living, viable creature.
No, I wasn't as obsessed as Wufei. He acts as if Shenlong, or Nataku, is the
reincarnate soul of his dead wife whom he told me about long ago, Meiran,
excessively going out of his way to make his beloved live again. It almost seems
as if he prefers the company of his Gundam to the presence of actual human
beings.
If you ask me, he goes too far.
I sigh contentedly. Sandrock looks just the way I want it to.
Trowa steps out of the shadows. "Perfect," he says.
I nod in agreement. Yes, it's perfect. It looks exactly like it had the first day I got
it from Instructor H. I hadn't really appreciated it then, but now, I realized the
Gundams for what they were.
They were much more than machines, Sandrock being no exception. Together,
the five Gundams were a symbol of peace, justice, and power of will. Nothing
could stop them. It seemed as if, as the old Earth slogan claimed, 'United they
stand, divided they fall.'
How can I talk of Sandrock this way? How do I know that it really lives and is not
just a junk-pile of nuts and bolts?
How can I treat it as an equal?
Gundams think; of this, I'm quite sure. Back on Earth, with Duo and Wufei taking
off into space, I had tried to self-destruct, that option being my last resort. I had
intended to stay inside Sandrock, thinking it only proper that I go down with my
Gundam. I was fully prepared to sacrifice myself so my friends could go to
space.
But it wasn't to be. Sandrock had opened the cockpit, silently insisting that I
make my escape. My Gundam, which had served me so faithfully in the war, was
serving its master one last time.
It had blocked me with its shield as I lowered myself with the tow line. With tears
in my eyes, I bid Sandrock farewell and left for space.
It wasn't until I was actually leaving the ramp when I realized that Sandrock was
still standing. The self-destruct device usually kicked in much faster. For Wing or
Deathscythe or any other Gundam, the pilot would have been stuck inside the
cockpit, waiting for the second where everything around him would erupt with a
violent roar.
Sandrock had spared me one final wish. It seemed like all those times that I had
spoken of the importance of life, Sandrock had been listening.
But that wasn't it. I couldn't let it stop there; Sandrock had been so gracious to
me, I owed it.
Big time.
So I vowed to return the favor of life that Sandrock had granted me.
Eventually, I was given the opportunity to make my Gundam live again. With the
help, of course, of my equally loyal Maguanac troops.
I think it was the same Gundam; it felt as if it was all there. Everything that I had
sensed in my last Sandrock was still present. Even though the exact pieces of
Gundanium that had formed the original Sandrock were gone, the general
essence was still there.
No, the original Gundanium was gone. It was the magical alloy which fueled the
secret power of the Gundams. It was not only the pilots' skill alone which allowed
them to conquer again and again; it was also the strength and purity of the alloy.
I hadn't shown it, but I was happy to be reunited with Sandrock.
Can you imagine that? I used to hate the Gundams. To any oridinary person, the
Gundams weren't symbols of justice, they were anything but! Gundams started
wars and rebelled against the seemingly innocent OZ. Gundams killed
thousands of civilians in the war, presumably more than OZ would have killed.
I used to think just like them. I used to blame myself and Sandrock for causing
numerous deaths; deaths which may have been prevented had I not come to
possess the Gundam.
In Trowa's famous words, "Those who lay eyes on a Gundam shall not live to tell
about it."
But death is an outcome of war. It is something I understand but defy. I hate
death just as much as the next person; I'm not just some cold-hearted soldier.
So imagine me, Quatre, the empathic pilot, the gentle Arabian, sitting in the
cockpit of Sandrock, a Gundam, the icy killing-machine, taker of a million lives.
Then you understand my confusion.
But the Gundams aren't as insensitive as they seem. It is their pilots who make
them do what they do. In reality, Gundams become who they are trained to
become, they might even take on some characteristics of their pilot.
I was frightened at first. Sandrock had spared my life; it could not be a killer. But
I, who navigated the machine's motions from inside the cockpit, I was a killer.
Although unwilling, I had destroyed many lives and families, all with the quick
stroke of my hand-sword.
Trowa always said I had a heart of gold. But could someone as pure as he said I
was really kill so many people? It was a little unvelievable.
Still, it didn't surprise me to find that in a way, I had indeed fallen in love with
Sandrock.
Not love in the sense of the emotion that humans harbor in their hearts for each
other. This was a different type of love. It was the love of knowing that wars are
fought by living beings, and that no matter how hard-hearted soldiers act,
eveyone has retained some shred of dignity.
Gundams are no longer the cold machines I thought they were. To Sandrock,
especially, I am grateful. Gundams are piloted by actual people who realize what
they do, but give in to the relentless fighting they were trained to execute.
Sandrock, if not all Gundams, is deserving of my praise. It has held strong to
every whim I commanded. It is my equal. I am its brain and it is my body: I think
for it and it acts with surprising accuracy and perfection.
Not that I approve of wars; absolutely not. Never in a hundred years will I
willingly stike down another human in the cold fever of battle. Because the only
thing that the people of the colonies will ever see the Gundams as is cold,
heartless, ruthless machines with the incapability of clemency.
Of course, I know that it is really the pilot, and not the actual Gundam, who
controls the machine's fate -- omitting Wing Zero and Epyon, of course.
Gundams don't have beating hearts. They only have metal cockpits, allowing for
a smaller, authentic heart to think for them. And it is the purity in the human
hearts which drives the Gundam towards good or evil, truth or lies, light or dark.
Imagine what I never could have imagined before. A cold machine with a cold
heart; but inside that heart lies another one.
One of pure gold.
~OWARI~
^^* uh, how was it? interesting?? lol i think i confused myself in there, did i lose any of YOU? ::looks around:: well, tell me whatcha all think. rate n review...jaaa minna!
ChibiQuatre @ tigerlily6c@aol.com
By ChibiQuatre (7/4/00)
Yet another GW disclaimer: well, do you all REALLY want me to write a disclaimer?! We all know that I don't own GW (though God KNOWS I wish I did!). The GW boyz r'nt mine, never were, never will b. They are owned by their respective creators; Sunrise, There...happy!!! ((oh, and any trouble translating the japanese, I'll b happy to help!))
*A/N: 2 tell da truth, i don't no where i got this idea. i no there r yaoi-luvers out there...i just wanted 2 say that i didn' really intend there 2 b any yaoi here, but if u wanna read it that way, fine -- b my guest! i just don't want any disparaging comments, that's all. u understand ^_^ other than that, i have nothing else 2 say, except for rate n review minna!
I stood back and admired my masterpiece.
It had been maintained, serviced, repaired, and refueled. All the scratches had
been polished, leaving the surface as refined and flowy as glass and burnished
to a sheen. Looking into it was like staring into a lustrous mirror.
Don't get me wrong, I loved my Gundam. Perhaps not as much as Duo or Wufei,
but sometimes, I cared for it as if it were a living, viable creature.
No, I wasn't as obsessed as Wufei. He acts as if Shenlong, or Nataku, is the
reincarnate soul of his dead wife whom he told me about long ago, Meiran,
excessively going out of his way to make his beloved live again. It almost seems
as if he prefers the company of his Gundam to the presence of actual human
beings.
If you ask me, he goes too far.
I sigh contentedly. Sandrock looks just the way I want it to.
Trowa steps out of the shadows. "Perfect," he says.
I nod in agreement. Yes, it's perfect. It looks exactly like it had the first day I got
it from Instructor H. I hadn't really appreciated it then, but now, I realized the
Gundams for what they were.
They were much more than machines, Sandrock being no exception. Together,
the five Gundams were a symbol of peace, justice, and power of will. Nothing
could stop them. It seemed as if, as the old Earth slogan claimed, 'United they
stand, divided they fall.'
How can I talk of Sandrock this way? How do I know that it really lives and is not
just a junk-pile of nuts and bolts?
How can I treat it as an equal?
Gundams think; of this, I'm quite sure. Back on Earth, with Duo and Wufei taking
off into space, I had tried to self-destruct, that option being my last resort. I had
intended to stay inside Sandrock, thinking it only proper that I go down with my
Gundam. I was fully prepared to sacrifice myself so my friends could go to
space.
But it wasn't to be. Sandrock had opened the cockpit, silently insisting that I
make my escape. My Gundam, which had served me so faithfully in the war, was
serving its master one last time.
It had blocked me with its shield as I lowered myself with the tow line. With tears
in my eyes, I bid Sandrock farewell and left for space.
It wasn't until I was actually leaving the ramp when I realized that Sandrock was
still standing. The self-destruct device usually kicked in much faster. For Wing or
Deathscythe or any other Gundam, the pilot would have been stuck inside the
cockpit, waiting for the second where everything around him would erupt with a
violent roar.
Sandrock had spared me one final wish. It seemed like all those times that I had
spoken of the importance of life, Sandrock had been listening.
But that wasn't it. I couldn't let it stop there; Sandrock had been so gracious to
me, I owed it.
Big time.
So I vowed to return the favor of life that Sandrock had granted me.
Eventually, I was given the opportunity to make my Gundam live again. With the
help, of course, of my equally loyal Maguanac troops.
I think it was the same Gundam; it felt as if it was all there. Everything that I had
sensed in my last Sandrock was still present. Even though the exact pieces of
Gundanium that had formed the original Sandrock were gone, the general
essence was still there.
No, the original Gundanium was gone. It was the magical alloy which fueled the
secret power of the Gundams. It was not only the pilots' skill alone which allowed
them to conquer again and again; it was also the strength and purity of the alloy.
I hadn't shown it, but I was happy to be reunited with Sandrock.
Can you imagine that? I used to hate the Gundams. To any oridinary person, the
Gundams weren't symbols of justice, they were anything but! Gundams started
wars and rebelled against the seemingly innocent OZ. Gundams killed
thousands of civilians in the war, presumably more than OZ would have killed.
I used to think just like them. I used to blame myself and Sandrock for causing
numerous deaths; deaths which may have been prevented had I not come to
possess the Gundam.
In Trowa's famous words, "Those who lay eyes on a Gundam shall not live to tell
about it."
But death is an outcome of war. It is something I understand but defy. I hate
death just as much as the next person; I'm not just some cold-hearted soldier.
So imagine me, Quatre, the empathic pilot, the gentle Arabian, sitting in the
cockpit of Sandrock, a Gundam, the icy killing-machine, taker of a million lives.
Then you understand my confusion.
But the Gundams aren't as insensitive as they seem. It is their pilots who make
them do what they do. In reality, Gundams become who they are trained to
become, they might even take on some characteristics of their pilot.
I was frightened at first. Sandrock had spared my life; it could not be a killer. But
I, who navigated the machine's motions from inside the cockpit, I was a killer.
Although unwilling, I had destroyed many lives and families, all with the quick
stroke of my hand-sword.
Trowa always said I had a heart of gold. But could someone as pure as he said I
was really kill so many people? It was a little unvelievable.
Still, it didn't surprise me to find that in a way, I had indeed fallen in love with
Sandrock.
Not love in the sense of the emotion that humans harbor in their hearts for each
other. This was a different type of love. It was the love of knowing that wars are
fought by living beings, and that no matter how hard-hearted soldiers act,
eveyone has retained some shred of dignity.
Gundams are no longer the cold machines I thought they were. To Sandrock,
especially, I am grateful. Gundams are piloted by actual people who realize what
they do, but give in to the relentless fighting they were trained to execute.
Sandrock, if not all Gundams, is deserving of my praise. It has held strong to
every whim I commanded. It is my equal. I am its brain and it is my body: I think
for it and it acts with surprising accuracy and perfection.
Not that I approve of wars; absolutely not. Never in a hundred years will I
willingly stike down another human in the cold fever of battle. Because the only
thing that the people of the colonies will ever see the Gundams as is cold,
heartless, ruthless machines with the incapability of clemency.
Of course, I know that it is really the pilot, and not the actual Gundam, who
controls the machine's fate -- omitting Wing Zero and Epyon, of course.
Gundams don't have beating hearts. They only have metal cockpits, allowing for
a smaller, authentic heart to think for them. And it is the purity in the human
hearts which drives the Gundam towards good or evil, truth or lies, light or dark.
Imagine what I never could have imagined before. A cold machine with a cold
heart; but inside that heart lies another one.
One of pure gold.
~OWARI~
^^* uh, how was it? interesting?? lol i think i confused myself in there, did i lose any of YOU? ::looks around:: well, tell me whatcha all think. rate n review...jaaa minna!
ChibiQuatre @ tigerlily6c@aol.com
