A/N: Beware, massive info dump ahead. By virtue of its world-building nature, this introductory chapter is quite heavy on the lore and technical details. As the Sanctum is a complex entity, and the mechanics of l'Cie – Hope in particular – a whole beast in itself, I wanted to lay out the nitty-gritty groundwork.

This turned out to be more of an intellectual romp than I'd expected. I've done my research and tried my best at maintaining some semblance of scientific fidelity, but I'm no neuroscientist or biomedical engineer. So please forgive me if you find inconsistencies. Pointing them out in a review would also be appreciated.


xxx

part i – the white cage

xxx

"You will now have authorised access to docking lab sixteen," said Officer Raines, his cold grey eyes surveying her over the tops of his steepled fingers. "Make sure to be there no later than fifteen thirty. Dr. Zaidelle will give you a proper introduction."

"Got it, sir."

He inclined his head towards her in a brief nod. "Dismissed."

Composure in place, Lightning sketched a perfunctory salute before turning on her heel and stepping out of her superior's office. A solid thump and the hiss of rushing air followed, indicating that the door had shut behind her. She walked a few paces down the corridor, noting with surprise the lack of traffic at this time of the afternoon. Once assured of her momentary privacy, she allowed herself to slump back against the nearest wall and release a sigh.

Today was the eighth of July, meaning exactly five years had passed since she'd joined the Sanctum. Five years since she'd traded her old, wretched existence for the relatively luxurious one of a government lapdog, complete with muzzle and leash. Perhaps there was some karmic irony in that, for it also marked the occasion where she received her latest, most monumental and positively gargantuan bombshell of an assignment.

She had been reallocated once more, this time to Special Operations. And this transfer came with a new job title: l'Cie handler. Moreover, she wasn't about to handle just any l'Cie, but the newly deployed No. XXVII, the Sanctum's most advanced cyborg.

To say that her mind was reeling was an understatement.

Presumably this formed part of some grand scheme only the higher-ups knew about, because Lightning couldn't see how she fit into the picture. Sure, she may have the grit and focus for the role, but otherwise presented no qualifying traits. Her understanding of l'Cie day-to-day operation and maintenance was, at best, rudimentary. (Something that would soon be remedied, if her upcoming schedule packed full of learning modules was any indication.) And while her field experience had given her a solid grasp of l'Cie combat capabilities, there were others far more knowledgeable on the subject. Besides, wouldn't her lack of status – not to mention lowly background – automatically disqualify her as a candidate?

Maybe that's what they want, she rationalised. Someone who knows just enough to get the job done, but not enough to get distracted.

Whatever their reason or agenda might be, it wasn't as though Lightning had the option to refuse. The fact that they'd rescued her from the Purge bin equated to a lifetime's service worth of debt. If she had any sense of self-preservation at all, she would perform her duty, and perform it well.

Even if it involved a task she was anything but prepared for.

Intent on reaching her next assigned location – docking lab sixteen – Lightning set out once more, her booted soles clicking against the polished ceramic floor. Sleek, monochromatic walls (the interior design of Edenhall Research Institute often featured a fusion of utility and aesthetics) passed by her along with other Sanctum personnel, who spared her no more than a glance before continuing on with their business. Accustomed to this indifference, she did likewise. Her icy, aloof persona preceded her, and with but a few exceptions (whom she can count on the fingers of one hand), people left her alone.

She made her way through the main hall, appearing in the elevator lobby. At her prompting, an available stall came up – empty, to her relief – which she entered. Deft fingers dialled the sequence of keys that would take her to the ninth basement, where the docking labs resided. As the elevator gears engaged and sent her deeper into the bowels of the facility, Lightning let her mind wander, revisiting the details of her assignment.

Due to matter sensitivity, what she knew of her soon-to-be charge was limited to her debriefing. With Project Transcendence approaching its pinnacle, l'Cie No. XXVII had been repurposed as the centrepiece. Representing the latest breakthrough in l'Cie technology, it was a true prototype and the first of its kind.

Although later models had already been released (if memory served her correctly, they were up to No. LXIV now), No. XXVII was in the final stages of development, having just graduated past the testing phase. What made it unique was its precise mimicry of human form and function – it was supposedly indistinguishable from an ordinary person. (While l'Cie had transitioned to organic exteriors by the twenty-second model, the resemblance was only superficial. Replication of internal physiology – namely neural infrastructure – was instead co-developed in a separate line of cyborgs. However, the two technologies have only converged and seen successful implementation in No. XXVII's case.) Not to mention that it manifested healing and augment magics, which were rare among l'Cie. (She decided that that was not a bad thing, for it made No. XXVII less lethal should a malfunction occur. Injury and death were very real hazards in the handler line of profession.)

Speaking of the handler profession, Lightning's new role came with various duties. The primary one being that she would shadow her charge, observe and report its behaviour, and subdue it in the event of aberrations. Another was to accompany it to public places to ensure adequate integration and socialisation. (The potential for infiltration had become manifest with No. XXVII's human likeness, and the Sanctum had every intention of utilising this ability.) Ultimately, she was to act as its partner on the field, providing directives and an anchor point.

A soft ding sounded, announcing her arrival at the ninth basement. This was followed by a metallic wrench as the doors slid open. Anticipation forming a knot in the pit of her stomach, Lightning stepped forward, out of the elevator and into a well-lit, whitewashed corridor. She passed by set after set of double doors, making sure to examine their plaques – twelve, fourteen, sixteen – before confirming which one her destination lay behind. There was a contraption on the wall with vertical mobile components: a retinal scanner. Detecting her presence, it tracked her to eye height and performed a reading of her right eye.

"Authorisation approved," it said in a female-sounding monotone.

Then the double doors before her unlatched and parted, welcoming her into the sterile embrace of docking lab sixteen.

Her initial impression was that of a doctor's office rather than a laboratory. Judging by its size and layout, the room was designed to accommodate no more than a single patient. A bed was tucked into the corner, and beside it lay an examination chair, complete with adjoining diagnostic equipment. Washing facilities were built into the wall benches, with various medical paraphernalia littering the shelves. There were also several floor-to-ceiling cabinets, a number of fridge-like appliances, and another door that led elsewhere (perhaps a supplies backroom?).

Most prominent of all was the rejuvenation tank, whose coupled machinery and piping spanned the entirety of the opposite wall. It emitted a faint hum of activity, conducting some invisible force through the air that made the hairs on Lightning's arms stand on end.

Within the tank slept none other than No. XXVII.

Aesthetic appeal was a standard feature among Sanctum cyborgs, from which No. XXVII made no deviation. Thick silver tresses framed a beautiful, delicate-featured face, and its pale skin seemed almost luminous under the stark fluorescent lights. Despite its slim frame and lean musculature, it was recognisably male, from the squared shoulders to the narrow hips to the anatomical flawlessness of its genitalia (here, Lightning was unable to keep her curious gaze from straying). Were she to go by appearances alone, she would place its age at the physical prime: the fresh onset of its twenties. A little younger than herself.

Unconscious, it floated upright in the tank, submerged from head to toe in the clear, effervescent liquid. Twin breathing tubes were plugged into its nostrils, LED monitors and their attached electrode wires mapped out its vitals, and an intravenous drip fed a greenish solution into the back of its right hand. Her sharp eyes picked out a mark etched into its opposite wrist, an ugly mishmash of black arrows and a glaring red eye.

The brand of a l'Cie.

(roiling flames puddles of blood charred bodies screams)

Shuddering, Lightning took an involuntary step backward.

A rustling noise behind her made her swerve in that direction, hand instinctively reaching for the handle of her gunblade.

"Easy, soldier! I just came from the other room, geez."

Before Lightning stood a petite blonde in her late thirties, dressed in a white lab coat. She approached Lightning slowly, both palms raised in a gesture of surrender. Her distinctive pixie haircut, piercing blue eyes and name tag identified her as Dr. Alyssa Zaidelle, Head Scientist of l'Cie Research and Development. As the main operator behind the scenes of Project Transcendence, it made sense that Zaidelle would play the part of No. XXVII's personal physician.

Realising that she had nearly drawn her weapon on one of the top dogs in the facility, Lightning snatched her hand back as though burned. "Apologies, Dr. Zaidelle." She gave the other woman a hasty, deferent bow.

The scientist's defensive pose relaxed, enough so as to wave her own hand in dismissal. "No harm done, right?" she replied in a casual, if cool manner. "Greetings to you too, Handler Farron. You're early."

Caught off guard, Lightning couldn't quite manage to restrain her snort at the title.

"Yes, it's quite a bit to take in, isn't it?"

"Not something I'd signed up for, that's for sure," she muttered.

"They wouldn't have picked you without a reason," Zaidelle returned, tone oddly sharp in contrast to her conciliatory words.

So someone higher up than even Zaidelle was the one pulling the strings. "Yeah," Lightning conceded with a sigh, folding her arms. "I haven't figured out this reason yet, though."

"Well, I know he's all the reason I need."

Taken aback by Zaidelle's candid proclamation, Lightning turned to the scientist, only to find her approaching No. XXVII's tank. She stopped a foot short of the enclosure, splaying her fingers of her right hand against the glass. Her expression, Lightning noted with mounting bewilderment, was a mixture of pride, reverence and profound longing.

"Have you ever seen anyone so beautiful?"

At this, Lightning promptly lost her battle with maintaining composure and felt her eyebrows soar into her hairline. While there was no denying No. XXVII's physical beauty, what the scientist implied would cross the boundary of objective assessment into personal – and hence inappropriate – appreciation. Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions, but could Zaidelle possibly be infatuated with No. XXVII?

"Dr. Zaidelle," Lightning began, then paused, hesitant. There was no diplomatic way of putting her next statement, but she'd never been one to mince words. "I know I'm not in a position to comment, but wouldn't it seem unprofessional to—"

"It's not like that," snapped Zaidelle, wrenching her gaze from No. XXVII with an almost irritable reluctance before turning it upon Lightning. "Well, it is and it isn't. Outsiders like you will never understand. Hope is far, far more than a pet project to us. To me. He is the fruition of our labours, built upon generations of hard work and research. The culmination of our dreams."

In all of the other woman's brief, impassioned speech, one thing stood out to Lightning: the fact that Zaidelle had addressed No. XXVII by name. "Wait, you call him 'Hope'?"

The scientist's lips curled into a beatific smirk. "A fitting name for the one who will pave the way to mankind's evolution, wouldn't you say?"

"But I thought he is—"

"—just a l'Cie?" interrupted Zaidelle, her mood whiplashing once more. She gave a contemptuous sniff, her eyes hardening into twin blue icicles. "How mistaken you are."

"Allow me to enlighten you," the scientist bulldozed onwards, not bothering with the nicety of asking. "Hope is the first true artificial human. A revolution in the making.

"What is the defining feature of a human being?" This question Zaidelle directed at Lightning. "What differentiates us from animals, or machines for that matter?"

Certain that she would receive a lecture no matter what she said, Lightning opted to play along. "The ability to think for ourselves?"

Zaidelle dipped her head in approval. "Precisely. Hope is self-aware."

"So that's the next milestone in l'Cie technology?" quipped Lightning, aware and uncaring of how ignorant she sounded.

As expected, Zaidelle met her flippancy with further contempt and no small amount of exasperation. "You laymen think it's such a simple process," she scoffed, flicking her hair. "All the AI portrayed in popular culture makes you think that it's a given. I assure you it's anything but. We've been trying to replicate self-awareness for Etro knows how long, with only limited success until recently.

"Take the other l'Cie for example," the scientist continued, pacing the short distance between the walls of the room. "They may look and act human, but they lack presence. That's because their core AI is just a bunch of algorithms. Pre-generated responses to a variety of situations. Situation A elicits response A—" here, she threw out her left palm, "—or B or C—" then her right, gesticulating her point, "depending on the circumstances.

"But even if you program enough responses to cover all the bases, the fact remains that this behaviour is formulaic. Not spontaneous like we humans are. It lacks the capacity for creativity or true emotion or consciousness, because it cannot exceed the constraints of its predefined purpose. It sets out to mimic humanness, rather than be human.

"We've been approaching it the wrong way this whole time. So we elected to return to the source. The birthplace of our identity – the human brain." Zaidelle paused, tapping her temple for emphasis. "What if we ran a simulation of it?

"And the end result of that is Hope," the scientist went on, resuming her pacing. "Inside his skull lies one of the Sanctum's most powerful supercomputers. It processes an astronomical amount of data, reproducing every imaginable nuance of cerebral activity, from the interplay between different parts of the brain to transmissions between individual neurons. To give you some scale of how massive that accomplishment is, there are some ten billion neurons firing simultaneously at any given time. With each neuron having up to seven thousand synaptic connections, not to mention firing multiple times per second.

"It's taken us two whole decades to reach this point. We've collated and compiled millions of brain scans in that time, refining our imaging technology all the while." She stopped before the tank, drawing her index fingers down the glass in two parallel strokes. "But the greatest challenge lay in engineering the computer that would bring it all to life – and fitting said computer within the tiny confines of the cranial cavity. Mechanising all the other aspects of human physiology was a simple task compared to this.

"Eventually, we got there. Then the quandary of operational logistics came along. As you might imagine, the energy requirements for such a powerful supercomputer are tremendous. And that's why our first artificial human is also a l'Cie." She turned towards Lightning, an air of sudden expectation about her. "I daresay you'd be able to figure out why?"

Now that she'd heard the scientist's explanation, the pieces were coming together in Lightning's mind. "Because mana is the most compatible energy resource," she offered, "and we already have the means to harness it?"

"In summary, yes," Zaidelle nodded, satisfied with Lightning's answer. "Mana is the densest energy type, with a hundred-percent efficiency. As it can be utilised directly by living tissue – synthetic or otherwise – there are no conversion losses. And as you've said, we've already perfected the technology for compact, small-scale mana generation in previous l'Cie models. Why not apply it to this problem?

"In Hope's case, we've enhanced the internal mana reactor and expanded its function to include a stable baseline output. Of course, the supercomputer consumes nearly all of this output, so he requires external energisation to cast any significant amount of magic. An acceptable limitation for now, but that's something we'll be amending in the future.

"So you see, Handler Farron," the scientist concluded, mirroring Lightning's crossed-arm pose and tapping a irritable foot, "you'll be working intimately with the one of the Sanctum's most valuable assets. Do you finally grasp the enormity of your privilege?"

Knowing that any reply she provided would be inadequate, Lightning resorted to affecting nonchalance. "I suppose so."

This caused Zaidelle's eyes to narrow in response. "I genuinely hope you do," she said in a quiet, hard voice. "We both know the repercussions if you don't. Anyway, that's enough dallying." Raising her hand to the monitor keypad, the scientist tapped out a complicated sequence of buttons. "It's time to meet your l'Cie."

There was a beep as the blue indicator lights changed to red, followed by movement within the tank. No. XXVII was beginning to stir. Fascinated all of a sudden, Lightning unfurled her arms and wandered over to the enclosure, her feet seemingly carrying her of their own accord. She hovered over the glass not unlike a spectator at a zoo, barely cognisant of the fact that Zaidelle had moved aside to make space for her. Her gaze gravitated to the l'Cie's face, magnetised by the contrast of dark eyelashes against the porcelain skin.

Then those eyelashes fluttered upwards, and Lightning found herself staring into twin pools of the most intense green.


A/N: Cliffhanger ending, woo! Here we meet Lightning, Cid and Alyssa. I had to tweak Alyssa's age and mannerisms a bit, but her intelligence, ambition and drive made it impossible to resist giving her role I've assigned her in this story.

I would apologise for the technobabble, but I'm not sorry at all. :-P The matter of Hope's existence had to make perfect sense to me, so I've laid out the justifications of how he came to be. Well, most of them. I'm not revealing all my cards yet.