Only Connect
PART ONE
"Shinji," Ritsuko said as she and Misato carried the cardboard box through the doorway, "We have a little present for you."
"For me, Dr. Akagi?" Shinji laughed nervously. Presents, for him? "But—it's not my birthday or anything or--"
"Does there have to be an occasion, Shinji? Come on, relax. It's for you." Misato then nodded in his direction. "There's one more box outside the door, would you mind getting that for us?"
"Ah, hai!" Shinji's conditioned reflexes snapped to attention, and he briskly walked down the hallway toward the entrance. The two women were having little trouble carrying both ends of the bulky box, but when Shinji tried to pick up the equally bulky package outside, his fourteen-year-old forearms strained at lifting it even a few inches.
"That's the system unit, Shinji," Misato shouted. "Is it heavy?"
"No—that's all right—I'm coming, Misato--" He set it down once the box was inside the apartment. He gave the effort to carry it down the hallpushed the box down the corridor until he reached the kitchen. Once there, he finally got a good look at the box's side. It read "TAICHIBANA LABORATORIES NAVI-MODEL 2015A."
Shinji's eyes widened. "A Navi for me?" He looked at Misato and Ritsuko, who were seated at the kitchen table and sipping cans of Yebisu beer. "But why?"
"Well, Shinji," Misato said, "if you must, think of it as a reward. For all your hard work at NERV--"
"--and for agreeing to cook tonight instead of Misato," Ritsuko said.
"Hey! There's nothing wrong with instant food," Misato replied, sniffing. She turned to Shinji again and smiled. "This is the latest model, you know."
"What?" Shinji gasped at all this unfounded, unusual generosity "How much did it--"
"Never mind about that, Shinji," Ritsuko said. "We can afford a little extra for our pilots." He then heard her mutter under her breath, "As long as the Committee's not looking, that is."
"So—can it go on the Wired, and all that?"
"Don't be silly. Of course it can. It's even got an Accela chip." Ritsuko put a finger over her pursed lips. "Don't tell anyone."
"Wait a second—Kensuke said--aren't those illegal?"
Ritsuko shook her head and grinned slyly. "Not for NERV."
"Oh, OK . . . the Wired . . . hmm . . ." Kensuke mentioned his daily trips to the Wired at school sometimes. He always was talking about the latest hardware upgrades to his Navi at home, with his father bringing home all the latest defense technology and all. He had even boasted of hacking the school Navilettes so he could play dungeon games while the teacher droned about the Second Impact. But Shinji had never been on the Wired before. "Misato?" he asked.
"Hmm, Shinji?" She leaned back in her chair, downing the last dregs of her beer.
"Do you think, uh, I could set it up now? I've never really tried the Wired." He put his hand behind his head nervously. "Of course, uh--"
"How about after dinner," Misato said. "Aren't you hungry?"
"Well—yeah, but---"
"Misato," Ritsuko said. "I think he wants to do it. Now." She stood up. "Come on, I'll help you, Shinji."
"Ritsuko, really, I'm starving--" Misato sighed. "Oh well, all right. If it makes him happy." She chuckled, muttering something about "at least he's smiling now." And Shinji was smiling, as he pushed the unit through the kitchen into his "lovely suite" with Misato and Ritsuko carrying the other box behind him. When he slid the door open he noticed how bare his room seemed, with nothing but a wooden desk, a neatly-made bed, and posterless walls inside. Now there was going to be a computer inside, sitting on the desk. It was one less empty space in the room to stare at, at least.
He opened the main system unit's box, and after Ritsuko helped him lift the unit out of the box and shed all the packing material, Shinji looked at his new machine. It looked like a monolith, an obsidian cube whose metal exterior shone under the pale fluorescent light. The front panel had black buttons and dark slits for disk drives, and the backside contained a few ports, but from a distance it resembled a smooth, solid metal block, like black ice.
"No wonder it's so heavy," Shinji said.
"Well, it was designed for more secure environments," Ritsuko replied. "Like the Command Center. Or Terminal Dogma."
"Swiped it from the inventory, eh, Ritsuko?" Misato said, jabbing Ritsuko's shoulder.
"Don't be silly, Major. We have plenty of surplus machines that can't be sold on the regular market. Shinji, you should feel very special."
"Thank you, Dr. Akagi. I do."
"Anytime, Shinji. Why don't we start setting up now? I'm getting hungry too."
They unpacked the 21" LCD display from the other box, and soon both the unit and the monitor stood on Shinji's desk. There were only a few cables to connect--"most everything's wireless now," Ritsuko explained—the most prominent being a fiber-optic cable for Wired access. "It's come a long way since 10 years ago," Ritsuko continued. "No one had fiber access—except NERV, of course—until two years ago, and now everyone's installing it like mad . . . so you'll get to meet a lot of people on the Wired, Shinji."
"Really?" Shinji wondered if they were all people like Kensuke, who certainly seemed like a computer nerd. "Well, I don't know."
Ritsuko plugged the last of the cables into the back port. "You might even find it easier to make friends online. You can be almost anyone you want. No one can see you through the computer screen, after all."
"Ritsuko," Misato said, "I don't know if that's so healthy--"
"Oh, stop being so backward. The Wired is supposed to bring people together. It connects people across the world. I don't know how I'd keep up with the latest research without it. And Shinji can meet some new friends." She smiled at Shinji. "Just don't get too addicted, all right, Shinji?" He nodded. Ritsuko then checked all the cable connections, adjusted the monitor's viewing angle, and stood back proudly. "Well, Shinji, it's all yours. Go ahead, turn it on."
"OK." He peered at the black cube quizzically. "Um, where's the—oh, there!" He found the power button, and pushed it gingerly.
The near-silent whir of the system fan hummed from behind the unit. A green LED blinked to life, and on the display, a 3-D animation of a spinning globe sprung to the fore. Superimposed over the field of stars were the words:
TAICHIBANA LABORATORIES NAVI-2015A
WORLD WIDE WIRED NODE #3B0FF
WELCOME!
WHAT IS YOUR NAME?
_____?
"Um . . ." Shinji searched on the keyboard for the katakana characters that would spell his name.
"Just say your name," Ritsuko said. "No typing."
"Oh, all right!" The cursor blinked patiently on the screen, waiting for his command. He took a breath and recited, "Ikari Shinji."
"Ikari Shinji," a warm, female voice from the computer echoed. "Irrashai, Ikari-san." VOICEPRINT IDENTIFIED! The screen proclaimed, with a cheesy electronic fanfare. A little white ghost then popped onto the screen with a poof! "Hello, Ikari-san," he said. "Welcome to the Wired. Would you like me to check your e-mail?"
Shinji saw Ritsuko grimace with displeasure. "I thought I ordered the professional version, not the consumer operating system . . . damn requisition people . . . don't worry, Shinji, I'll tell you how to turn it off later."
"It's OK, Dr. Akagi," Shinji said. "I'll get used to it."
"Anyway . . . ." Misato yawned loudly. "Shinji, go cook dinner, I'm starving. And, I want you to finish your homework before you get on the computer."
"Hai, Misato-san." With that, he took off to the kitchen, leaving Misato and Ritsuko by themselves.
Misato sighed. "I don't know, Ritsuko, a Navi? Do you really think he needs it?"
"It'll give him something to think about and do," Ritsuko replied, "when he's not piloting Evas for us anyway. He can't stay useful for us if he doesn't get some kind of relief."
"'Useful.' Is that how you talk about another human Ritsuko?"
"Well a fact's a fact, Major. Besides, he seemed a happier today than usual." A sly grin crept up her lips. "Even if it takes a little unreality, a happy pilot is a winning pilot. And Kami-sama knows we can't afford to lose."
"Right, right." Misato shrugged. They both rose and left for the kitchen, where the sound of the running faucet and the stove fan filled the air, and the aroma of fish stew trickled into her nostrils. Well, she thought, at least the food tonight is real.