Be prepared for a long chapter and please consider this before criticising its content: this is a farfetched theory biology wise – even if it is based off the mad-scientist Genome variety. Whether it's believable or not is up to you, but try and remember that this is fantasy so I can twist whatever the hell I want without pesky reality getting in the way. So if I've skimmed any facts, it might be best you skim them too, heh heh.

That aside, enjoy!

(And for those wondering about updates and RL, please check my profile)

Chapter Twenty Four
System Error

i.

She didn't know whether she appreciated the distractions thrown at her between wilted brush and spiny branch. They might have reigned in her scattered wits but she still heartily cursed the Black Mage Village's remote location, barely accessible by foot and all but accessible via airship. Only a few hours ago she might have found the excursion an invigorating change to her queenly routine, but when one party member was tethered somewhere between life and death it only exuberated her fretful disposition.

Thankfully, there was Steiner and Blank, the latter of whom had hitched a ride on the Rose after milling around the castle in search for Zidane. Ruby had assumed Zidane was late for rehearsal and had sent Blank to retrieve him for a fiery punishment. The redhead had expected to find his brother hungover or just plain ass lazy, but instead he got this. Regardless, he agreed to accompany them into the dead forest, and was given the task of carrying his inert brethren as thanks.

"Sweet fucking Alexander, you were serious about not stopping, weren't you?" he huffed a complaint under his breath.

"Silence," Steiner hissed, who was solely on the offence, though attacks were few and far between; he thought it best they stick to the paths and remain as silent as possible, so to avoid any unwelcome trouble.

"I don't give a fuck!" Blank seethed, panting beneath the weight of Zidane, whom was being carried piggy-back style. "Do you know how heavy this bastard is? I'm gonna have back problems for weeks."

Garnet was striding ahead, eager as anyone to reach the village and unable to behold her comatose husband too long. She was dressed in the clothes of an airship pilot, the only available change of dress on such short notice, and though the rough hessian pants and cotton shirt accommodated the battles, it didn't obstruct the misty rain, and she had knotted her hair into a bun some time ago.

Now she threw an apologetic look toward Blank, who was wet more from sweat than the rain and had also come in gear suited for neither trek nor danger; even his dagger had been left behind.

"I'm sorry, Blank," she said. "It shouldn't be much further, though we'll be trekking into nightfall."

"That's a bad fucking idea," was Blank's opinion. "This shit is gonna get crazy – crazier – when the sun goes down. You really think Rusty can hold off all the nastys alone?" As an afterthought he muttered, "And of course Zidane's only blood relatives would live like fucking hermits in the middle of a huge-ass forest."

Garnet wiped moisture from her eyes and slicked back her hair, choosing to ignore the latter comment. "I'm not taking any chances. What if... what if there's some kind of time limit... What if he's dying? Are you really willing to take that risk?"

Blank paused to shift the weight on his back and concluded: "Ah, geez. What a pain in the ass."

"Let us not dither," Steiner suggested, his face shadowed beneath the lip of his helm. "We should cover as much ground as possible while daylight remains our ally."

Blank looked on, stony faced and grumpy, but Garnet could see the disquiet beneath his stoical brow regardless; he wouldn't be here if he didn't care for his brother.

And so they trekked on in weary silence, the rain dampening their already dampened spirits, then increasing in fervour as if to spite them. Even the owls fell silent, considering them through sleepy, half-curious lids from the sanctuary of their roosts. Rain was sparse in this land throughout the year, but when it rained it really rained, often days at a time; just their luck to come during that period, Garnet lamented miserably.

To make matters worse, half way into their trek the path became muddy beneath the downpour, and the normally baked dirt became a slippery soup. This would have been a minor inconvenience at any other time, but Steiner kept sinking into the deeper patches due to his weighty armour, and nearly every time Garnet had to pull him out she usually went flying backwards, so now the seat of her pants was caked in fetid mud. Blank fared no better either, struggling to maintain purchase when there was another body to consider. Luckily his thieving agility kept him on his feet, but Garnet suffered several minor heart attacks just watching him struggle across the unaccommodating terrain.

Naturally, things didn't get better the closer they got to the village.

After they'd cleared a particular soggy marsh they were stopped short in their tracks when the brush to their right rustled ominously. There was no time to escape before a fully grown Marlboro bustled into view, tentacles flailing and testing the air while its grotesque mouth opened in a snarl that bellowed noxious fumes.

"Mother of fuck, which god did I piss of to deserve this?" Blank spluttered as Steiner moved with halting grace to the forefront of their uncertain line, armoured feet slurping and belching through the mud.

Garnet had to agree with him, but she brandished her courage anyway, ready to aid her knight if he so needed it.

Before the Marlboro could gain a semblance of footing Steiner bellowed something inscrutable and charged, Defender held aloft to cut off its slithery tentacles. They went flying in all directions, twitching like snakes in the mud, hot, purple blood oozing from the stems. The beast roared, multiple eyes rolling in their sockets, and from its mouth came a cloud of dark gas. Garnet reared back, hand crossed over her face, and Blank moved into the brush, cursing and gagging but unaffected.

Steiner was not so lucky, caught as he was in the monster's firing line. When the noxious fog cleared Garnet noted his disorientation and the darkness afflicting his eyes. The spell to aid his recovery came naturally to her, but too slow. Caught in a tangled web of various afflictions, Steiner was unable to dodge when the beast threw itself forward on legs of root, a particularly thick tentacle swatting all one hundred pounds of armour and Steiner to the side like a fly.

Steiner bellowed as he hit the ground, more from confusion than hurt as the landscape gave way beneath him, restraining him with stodgy fingers.

"Steiner!" Garnet yelled, and the Marlboro turned its yellow eyes on her. She reared back in alarm as it progressed a slithery step and Blank shouted something like a warning. She sought the power of the Eidolons humming inside her mind, but it was already too late and the Marlboro was so close she could smell its aroma, like compost and ammonia.

Its tentacles whipped the air, Steiner bellowed and she shut her eyes.

But the cry of pain came not from her mouth, but from that of the beast. She staggered backward in simple surprise, unheeding of the mud she fell into, and when she beheld the monster she saw it wreathed in flames. The air was coppery, thrumming with potent magic that had a familiar edge. It took a moment for it to click into place because it had been so long, but she figured it out before she spotted them: a trio of Black Mages breaching the flora, hands outstretched and lamplight eyes flaring.

Another wave of magic and the Marlboro shrivelled, howling a series of chilling death notes as it shrank into the foliage then collapsed, a charred mound of plant still licked with unnatural flames.

Silence settled on the exhausted travellers, and Garnet leaned forward on her hands, fighting off a wave of nausea. It was just too much, too much too quickly. To think she couldn't even protect Zidane at his most vulnerable, if anything had happened –

A gloved hand broke her field of vision and she looked up. A Black Mage stared down at her, eyes twinkling good naturedly.

"Hallo, I'm Mr. 127. That sure was a close call!"

ii.

As soon as they breached the village Blank immediately asked to be directed to the nearest bath. Garnet didn't begrudge him, and even dismissed Steiner to do the same. He was reluctant to leave and suggested heatedly that Garnet take a moment to compose herself too, but she wouldn't have any of it.

The Black Mage who had taken Zidane from Blank – Mr 238 – led her to a hut on the outskirts of the village, newly built and minus the perfunctory smiley face. The rain rapped a furious beat on the slippery boards that connected the dwellings, and the way was bare. Night had fallen prematurely as the result of thick clouds bunched across the sky, though the mood was intersected by amber light falling in shafts from the houses' windows. Garnet was shivering by now but more anxious about the exposure Zidane had endured, unable as he was to keep warm; heavens help her if his condition was made worse by her inattentiveness.

They stopped outside the front door and, as polite as any black mage, Mr 238 conducted an awkward rap on the wooden door around Zidane's limp form. For a moment they could hear only rain and the chorus of owls, a yelp from a monster, and then the door flew open and Garnet was blinking into a block of amber and aromatic wave of cooking.

Mikoto stared at her from the entrance, hands on either side of the door frame, wearing a frown on her face that said Garnet had come at an inconvenient time – the kind that said any time would have been inconvenient. Mikoto's blonde hair was neatly pinned from her face and the pink smock she wore revealed the curves of early womanhood. A simple bow adorned her tail and a spotless apron was tied about her slender waist.

Abruptly, she barked "Take him inside and stand him up if you can; his legs should yield if you get them straight enough." She turned her gaze to Garnet. "You can come in too."

Too tired, wet and stressed to be bothered by her tone, Garnet could only comply, trudging out of the abdominal weather and into the cosy confines of Mikoto's house.

It was indeed quaint, and notably unadorned. There was a cupboard stacked with crockery against the wall, a small cooking space at the back with pans and herbs swinging in bundles from the ceiling, a table and two chairs, a bookshelf, a couch and a claret rug. A ladder led up to a hidden second floor, which she presumed was a sleeping space, for she spotted no beds.

There was nothing superfluous about this home, aside, perhaps, from the bundle of wild flowers propped in a clay vase on the table. Other than that it was spotless, almost obsessively so, and just as she wondered whether Mikoto had a cleaning complex the girl said, "You're dripping all over the floor. Please stand on the rug and I'll bring you a towel. Mr 238, there's no need to faff about where to put him, just by the couch will be fine. Thank you."

Garnet shuffled dumbly onto the rug, shivering like a flan, and watched with heavy trepidation as the mage did indeed manage to stand Zidane up. It made her feel a bit sick seeing him moved into position like a doll, rain water dripping from his drenched clothes and the ends of his hair. She'd closed his eyes (torn about this for a long time as the act seemed more like death than sleep) but now she didn't know which was worse, having him standing there with his eyes open or closed.

"Take it, would you?" the crisp demand came from beside her and she snapped her gaze on Mikoto, impatiently waving a towel in front of her. "I beg your pardon," she apologised as she took it, and numbly made the effort to dry herself off, and as an afterthought she wiped the rain from Zidane's face too.

Mr 238 took his leave, so Garnet was alone with, who she supposed could be called, her sister-in-law.

"I'm making a stew," Mikoto informed her matter-of-factly. "Would you like some?"

"S-stew...?" Garnet repeated dumbly. "I ah... no. Thank you. I'd rather talk about Zidane. You're the only person who can help and I –"

"There's not much to talk about, really," Mikoto dismissed as she busied around the kitchenette, lifting the lid of a pot perched on the stove and stirring the contents with a wooden spoon.

Garnet had never really warmed to Zidane's sister, though she would never tell him; he still referred to her as 'sis' with an affection she considered a little misplaced. Pessimistic throughout the war, blunt and tactless, Garnet struggled to lay the foundations of a friendship with her regardless of whether she'd dragged Zidane from the Iifa Tree. Garnet sympathised with her troubled origin, no less turbulent than Zidane's or Kuja's, but in the end she couldn't dispute her own feelings, and now they frothed to the surface as the day's events finally scraped the last of her reservation away.

"Will you just tell me what's going on?" she flared hotly. "I haven't trekked through hours of monster-infested, rain soaked forest to be served stew. I want an explanation."

Mikoto stared at her in that disconcerting way all the Genomes had mastered, though beneath that vacant mask were genuine flickers of emotion, perhaps something close to distaste, maybe even surprise. It was hard to tell.

She shrugged, and took the stew off the heat with a cool explanation. "I assumed you'd be hungry after a trek. Gaians seem so fond of their cuisine, though it seems a bother to me. Why embellish your diet with so much unnecessary – and often unhealthy – substances? It's a waste of time." She wiped her hands on a dishcloth, fixing Garnet with that stare again, which Garnet returned with her chin slightly lifted, refusing to be intimidated.

"I'll have a look at him now," Mikoto offered, "though there's little good I can do momentarily. We'll have to wait until morning."

"So he wont die?" Garnet inquired hopefully, crossing the small space to stand beside her husband.

"No," she replied bluntly. "Not until he starves, anyway."

iii.

Mikoto began by walking in slow circles around him, prodded and pinching like he was a prize cow at a farmer's market. Garnet watched from the sidelines, opting to stand because her nerves wouldn't let her sit, shivering despite herself, but Mikoto hadn't offered anything beside the stew so she didn't bother her.

The female Genome stopped in front of him, and it was only then that Garnet could truly appreciate the eerie similarity between them. While Zidane was hardly the picture of masculinity with his short, lean build and elfin features, their sexes were easily distinguished: Mikoto was shorter and daintier, her facial features feminine and pretty. Though Zidane's hair colour was both ruddy and bleached in places from enduring a harsher climate than Terra, Garnet could tell their hair colour would have matched to the very shade, and their eyes too.

"I can't read him," Mikoto broke into her brooding observations.

"Hm?"

"His mind is closed off completely." When Garnet met this with a blank stare Mikoto granted a more thorough explanation. "Garland installed within those who were granted souls the ability to communicate telepathically, when in range. Only Garland could bend time and space to communicate to us from afar, allowing him to issue commands while he was on Terra and we on Gaia. Zidane was unable to tap into this ability due to his upbringing on Gaia, though it doesn't prevent a one way communication."

"He heard Garland in Memoria," Garnet remembered. "And Kuja at the Iifa Tree..."

Mikoto shrugged ambiguously. "At any rate, I can't make the connection anymore."

"Is that how you found him in the Iifa Tree?" Garnet asked suddenly.

Mikoto hesitated. "After a fashion, yes. It... it was Kuja who informed me of his location... before he died."

Garnet said nothing, once again unsettled by the lighter side of the man that tore her world apart and saved Zidane's life. She returned the subject to Zidane. "What's happened to him? Do you know?"

"Of course," Mikoto snorted frankly, withdrawing from her brief inspection and leaving Zidane standing there like a piece of furniture. Before she could probe for answers Garnet worried, "Should we... cover him? Lay him down? Is he cold?"

Mikoto had returned to the kitchen to pour water into a saucepan. She shrugged again and simply said, "It won't make a difference. He's completely desensitized to the environment at the moment. Just leave him."

Garnet wished to at least lay him on the couch, but couldn't move him alone and Mikoto was so uncooperative she could only grudgingly drag a chair into the limbo between the table and her husband. "Tell me everything."

Mikoto made some tea that smelt strongly of herbs and lemon. She made a cup for Garnet without invitation before delving into an explanation.

"You know Zidane's true purpose?" she said as she took the only other seat at the table and cradled a teacup in both hands, steam curling around her heart shaped face.

Garnet nodded. "I think so."

"He was created to replace Kuja. He was... Garland's masterpiece, I suppose you could say. Garland needed him to be as perfect as was within his ability to create." Mikoto pointed a finger at Garnet. "That's something important to understand, and why, perhaps, Garland's plans to assimilate Terra failed. The Genomes were – are – far from perfect, even Zidane, who was designed from scratch to be perfect. Garland wasn't a god and though Terra's technology far exceeds Gaia's, the feat to create a perfect being was something he could never master, even with a hundred years experience and trial and error.

"Don't misunderstand though," she went on. "Zidane is close to perfect physically, but Garland found he simply couldn't shape the soul he attached to the body." She shrugged. "You only need to look at Kuja to understand that, never mind Zidane.

"Anyway," she said, "Zidane's genetic makeup is different from a regular Genome, Kuja and I included, because Garland worked on him from scratch, where as we were ordinary vessels injected with souls. As I said, he strove for perfection. He took risks in that respect as there could be only trial this time, no error." Mikoto paused, cerulean eyes considering the ceiling thoughtfully. "When I... when I first saw Zidane I couldn't believe that this was what Garland considered perfection. I expected something less... unruly."

Garnet might have smiled, but the humour fell flat. She clutched her tea to warm her hands, if nothing else, as another shiver crept down her spine.

"Anyway," Mikoto continued, "Garland couldn't afford another failure like Kuja. Wary, he stripped Zidane's genetics of the ability to wield magic akin to Kuja's, because Garland was beginning to foresee Kuja as a potential threat – and obviously in the end he took no chances, severing Kuja's life with a limit. Garland presumed that physical strength alone would not topple him, so he focussed on building Zidane's physical power instead. In fact, Garland erased a lot of what he considered to be superfluous assets in Zidane's makeup that he knew wouldn't affect Zidane's overall performance. All Genomes are designed to function like humans so the Terrans who finally inhabit them can lead the lives they remember... Anyway, I'm digressing.

"Because Garland had grown wary over his first failure at creating an angel of death, he decided not to take too many risks with Zidane, deeming creating his genetics from scratch a big enough gamble. So, he designed Zidane to have a backup system in case the original failed."

"System?" Garnet repeated with a disapproving frown. "Zidane isn't a machine."

Mikoto cocked her head. "Really? But aren't we all programmed to do things from birth, to a certain extent? The basic instincts that make us function: breathing, walking, talking, excreting, mating. It's survival instinct. Because Genomes are created individually from nothing, Garland discovered ways to twist and manipulate the basic genetic structure to create his own programmes... his own customised instincts. Does that make sense?"

Garnet blinked, her brain racing to keep up with ideas and technology that was far, far beyond anything on Gaia. "I... think so..."

Indifferent to whether she truly understood or not, Mikoto ploughed ahead. "As I was saying, Garland programmed a backup system into Zidane's genetics that would activate two years after he came of age, if Terra wasn't assimilated by then. This programme is designed to wipe clean any data Zidane has obtained since his creation. Once any superfluous assets are stripped away all that's left is the basic instinct Garland meticulously programmed into him: the need to destroy."

Garnet stared with wide eyed disbelief at the girl opposite. Perhaps it was only her deep rooted nobility that held her together now, because she could have sworn she was unravelling like a ball of yarn. "Buh-but I... he isn't... I mean I... th-there isn't anything we can do...? That's it?"

Mikoto rolled her eyes and sighed impatiently, a heartbeat away from calling her silly. "Of course not. Do you think you'd be alive if the programme had worked?"

"I, um..."

"Garland made the same mistake twice. He might have been incomprehensibly brilliant at creating the basic shell life requires, but he could never grasp the concept of a soul. He didn't understand that no matter which soul he picks – whether it's strong, submissive or clever – they will always change and develop, affected by the environment in which they live."

Garnet stared at her. "...You figured this out... and Garland didn't?"

Mikoto's eyes darted to the window, where the shutters were drawn tight against the rain still beating an insistent taboo outside. "It's... from being here. I've been studying the Black Mages, trying to understand the way they independently acquire souls..." She trailed off, then shook her head. "But that's irrelevant in regards to Zidane's condition... though... I find it somewhat ironic that if I hadn't come to Gaia I would never have understood why this has happened to him..."

"What's happened to him?" Garnet stressed, suddenly tired beyond belief and pushed into exasperation because of it. "You're telling me that when he turned, what, eighteen? This programme switched on and he became... or was meant to become... the angel that Garland desired? So why didn't that happen? Why is he... why is like this?" She gestured angrily at the subject in question, deadly still in the middle of the living space, still dripping rain onto the floor.

"Can't you figure that out?" Nothing haughty in her tone, just impatient disbelief. "It's because of his soul. Garland thought he could erase the memories and personality of his Genome, but that resides in the soul, something that is as separate to the body as it is part of it." Mikoto shrugged. "Either way, Garland badly misjudged the strength a soul can possess, therefore Zidane has managed to fight against this programme... to a certain extent."

"It hasn't worked then?" Garnet said.

"I didn't say that," Mikoto corrected coarsely. "It's just taking longer than Garland intended, but don't be fooled: it is working. Zidane would have experienced various side effects as a result of many redundant functions being stripped away, beginning, I would imagine, with physical effects that would hinder his ability to destroy, such as eating, sleeping –"

"Sleeping," Garnet gasped. Suddenly Doctor Tot's inquiry made sense, alongside Zidane's unnaturally deep sleeps; he'd been prescribed a sleeping drug. "Gods."

"Better that than having one's personality stripped away, surely?" Mikoto asked, and for a moment it didn't sound rhetoric, but when Garnet didn't answer she continued. "As this programme began to take hold Zidane would have experienced heightened senses and unconsciously accessed operations he would not have been able to before, such as the telepathy between Genomes I mentioned earlier, and a greater understanding of his genetic makeup and Terran functions, something all Genomes possess knowledge of. Call it part of the installation package."

Garnet couldn't tell if that was Mikoto's attempt at a joke, then decided Mikoto probably never joked, so chose not comment. "But I still don't understand why he's... how he is now."

"I'm getting to that," Mikoto remarked primly. "As the programme began to truly take hold Zidane probably gained some knowledge of it and, as I mentioned, of the way his genetics worked. For one reason or another, Zidane managed to access the core Garland custom built and shut himself down."

Garnet frowned opened mouthed at her, attempting to process this. "Shut himself... down?"

Mikoto was unfazed by this prospect. "Think of it as a failsafe. Machines often shut themselves down in order to protect themselves. The production capsules in Terra's laboratory used to do the sa -"

"Zidane is not a machine," Garnet grated.

Mikoto waved a hand. "I won't argue the particulars. The point is, whether it was the result of blind panic or intentional, he managed to shut down enough of his vitals to prevent the programme from consuming him completely." She gestured at her older brother. "This is the result. He's now a regular Genome."