"Why are you telling me this?" Shepard asked cautiously. "Why are you helping me?"
"Because," the child answered, "you have altered the variables."
"I don't understand."
"Do you understand that?" the child pointed with its free hand at the plasma-like light stream. "That's your Crucible. I must admit that it has…changed me. Opened up new possibilities. But I can't make them happen. In a way, your search for the Catalyst was a misnomer. Here, now, the Catalyst is you."
Shepard's stomach twisted as she regarded the beam flanked by powerful-looking generator apparatuses.
Again, one of those winning, trusting smiles. "I'm glad it's you, Lissy."
Again, something in the back of Shepard's mind kicked. Her parents never called her Lissy. But…Kian did, sometimes, when she was younger…
Shepard felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, poised to jump, held back by this last thing, this last unanswered, unanswerable question: why did this thing keep calling her Lissy when no one else did? That name…belonged with the dead…
Shepard shook herself, her sense of unease growing, her awareness of her aches and pains increasing.
"It is, it must be admitted, now in your power to destroy us." Was that…fear…in its tone, as it pointed to the rightmost generator; the lighting around it turned red, as if to highlight it for her as important amongst all the rest of the tangle of machinery.
Shepard knew if Anderson was here, he wouldn't wait, wouldn't hesitate. He would march over to that generator and send the Reapers all screaming into whatever abyss would take them.
The child saw her looking at the generator, and seized her one hand in both of its own, the gesture still ineffectual except to accent its words. "But don't be hasty: others would die too."
Shepard tore her eyes away from the generator. She didn't like the sound of that…
"The Crucible is not capable of discriminating. All synthetics would be destroyed."
EDI…and the geth…the knowledge hit her like a punch to the stomach.
"Even you are partly synthetic."
"What…exactly…will happen?" Shepard asked in a whisper. In the last year, she'd managed to forget, by virtue of not thinking about it, how much tech Cerberus had had to load her up with.
"The Crucible appears largely intact. However, the effects of the blast will not be constrained to the Reapers. The technology you rely on—the mass relays—will be affected." Then, after a moment's thought, as if in fairness in spite of not liking the idea of such destruction, "Those who survive should have little difficulty repairing the damage."
"But the Reapers will be destroyed?"
"Yes. But the peace won't last. Your children will create synthetics, and the chaos will return. You would save a few in the short term, but without us," the child shrugged. "I've already revealed to you the patterns of history."
"Is there another way?" Shepard wondered how much of this was the truth, how much was fabrication, and how much the child left out.
"Yes. You could use the energy of the Crucible to seize control of the Reapers yourself."
Following the pointing finger, she found the leftmost generator highlighted with blue light, its design slightly different, more exposed than that of the first generator. Like pole on a battery, she thought numbly.
"So…the Illusive Man was right after all?" Shepard asked, hating the idea.
"Yes, but he could never have controlled us because we controlled him. I will warn you: should you attempt to seize control, you will die."
"Apparently today is my day to die," Shepard answered quelling. "If I take control, the Reapers will obey me?"
"You will lose all that you are, all that you have…but they would obey."
"For how long?"
The child laughed, the sound strangely bright in the grim situation. "You think I'm trying to trick you. I'm not. The shortest, easiest version is, you will would persist, and that would be all that was left. But it would be enough. You could do a great deal of good with an army of Reapers following your guidance."
Shepard looked at the floor, the choice hanging heavy on her aching shoulders.
"There is another solution," the child offered timidly.
Shepard looked back at him, found his posture composed to convey ultimate thoughtfulness. "Oh?"
"Yes. Synthesis. Add your energy to the Crucible's." The child sounded…curious…as if this was something it was sure would work, but the outcome of which was in question. "The chain reaction would combine all synthetic and organic life into a new framework. A new…DNA."
Shepard though she might vomit on the spot. She opened her mouth to demand if this thing knew what it was saying, knew what a hideous thing that would be to force on others, but no words came out through her fog of disgust and loathing for what she'd just heard. "I'm not sure I understand," she finally choked out.
"The essence of who and what you are would be broken down and dispersed," the child continued slowly.
"To do what exactly?"
"Released in this way, the Crucible's energy would alter the matrix of all organic life in the galaxy. Organics seek perfection through technology. Synthetics seek perfection through understanding. Organics would be perfected by integrating with synthetic technology; synthetics, in turn, will finally have full understanding of organics. It is the ideal solution, now that we know it is possible."
It was a bullshit solution! The geth were learning to 'understand' just fine!
…or, a nasty part of her mind asked, was she simply afraid to make the sacrifice that Legion so willingly made?
"Now that we know it is possible," the child sounded awed, "it is inevitable that we will achieve synthesis."
"Now that you know it's possible…you've tried it before?" Shepard asked, revolted.
"Yes, in the past. We discovered it was not something that could be forced."
It sounded like a solution that couldn't help but be forced on others, being what it was.