Chapter 3 - Project G
Winter, 1983
Sephiroth doesn't know what Project G is.
He's spent time thinking and putting together the pieces that he's found. None of them fit. It builds in the back of his mind like a strange shadow on the back wall, all claws and teeth. All he knows for certain is that Project G is bad.
The toast on the dining room table stares at him. He's sitting in front of it wondering why he's been asking for it. The one bite he took was dry and terrible. The office door is open. Mariella left it that way when she rushed in there. Now her head is heavy in her hands. Landon leans against the desk and reads the computer screen hundreds of times.
"How do they know for sure that Project G is a success? How? This late? How could they have pulled ahead of us?" She asks.
The office is a mystery. The room is small and each wall has a table pressed against it. The table pushed up against the window has a computer and equipment covered in it. Books and files hang high stacks on the other two. The blinds are closed most of the time. Sephiroth wants to look at everything. Recently, he's realized that machines are built of smaller parts and that the pieces work together. This is fascinating. Pulling thin pieces of metal like ribs out of the phone by the door lasted hours. They had made him put it back together. That was fun.
Marella shakes her head again. He's memorized even the pattern of the viney rug in the forbidden room. Every time he goes in, they push him out. The butter on the toast has disappeared. He pulls at the stiff belt digging into his stomach and these shiny shoes pinch his toes.
"They have four years of research on us. That doesn't mean that we aren't going to be more successful," Landon says. His arms are crossed. The morning light makes him dark against the open window. Sometimes Sephiroth thinks that he isn't seen by the thin doctor. Sephiroth is invisible until he wants something. That's okay with him.
"We have Hojo and we've been using G's research through the back door." She leans further forward. "What will happen if they race ahead? What solution haven't we tried yet?"
Guilt. He looks out the window. It's snowy. Christmas is coming soon. He's supposed to go sledding. Mariella always gives him a strong push and it sends his heart flying. Afterward comes the warm drink and the fireplace. It's a promise. Or he hopes it is. This email scares Mariella so much that she forgot to close the door. Sephiroth stays still and silent at the table. He's invisible again.
"Look, read what it actually says: 'Secondary experiments have shown promising signs and indications of Cetra behavior.' They are blowing hot air. We are using the same base materials and they are not directly observing." Landon clicks and the document disappears. "They must know about today. They want us to worry, to throw us off. We are achieving the product."
"Not the objective that we are funded for." She runs her hands through her hair and looks up at him.
Sephiroth nibbles a bite out of the toast. It's still dry and he looks for his orange juice that is in the kitchen. If Project G wins, it could hurt them. Project G is a monster. He sits cross legged, putting together different heads and legs that make it up. Does it breathe fire? Does it have wings? He brushes crumbs from his sweater. It smells like the box that it came out of. It makes him look "presentable".
"What have they gotten factually? Nothing. We are doing the real science. The hard science." He curls his hand on her shoulder.
"The exposure should have killed him. It was lethal." He's heard this over and over. The leaking pipe in the basement should have killed him. The explosion was too violent. It burns. It kills. It's the anger of the planet. Then they say mako is the love of the planet. He chews on the bread and swallows it. All he knows is that the men that came to fix it dressed up in yellow suits and wore masks that hissed.
"It didn't and now Project G has weaved outright lies," he says. Landon is softer today. There are bags under his eyes and he's hunched forward. There was no music last night coming form his room.
"What is Project G?" Sephiroth asks. He's saying it before he realizes that he is asking and then it is too late. Mariella stiffens. Landon's eyes find him sitting at the table right outside of the door.
"Nothing that will affect you," he says, "You need to concentrate on growing up."
"Is Project G a monster?"
His face twists as he walks up to the door frame. "Not a monster, no, not intrinsically."
Sephiroth shifts in his chair not understanding. Whenever the doctor looks at him, his feet want to run. The twiggy doctor studies him. The back of the chair meets Sephiroth's spine. Something crosses his mind over and over again and repeats itself in his eyes. It gives him the same feeling like when he smelled the dead bird outside.
A coldness falls over the doctor and he pulls his own suit straight. "Go watch for our company."
The door closes.
He slips out of the chair to watch at the window. He isn't hungry.
Company comes in a large black car that is so new that the general store's magazines don't feature it yet. The tires cut through the snow and pull in front of the house. The front gate opens for the car without Mariella pressing the button inside the front door.
Three people come out of the car, all men wearing black. The snow ghosts them as Mariella welcomes them in. Her tears are gone. Two of the men are huge and bulky. One is skinny under his coat and his glasses hang on the edge of his nose. Sephiroth closes the curtain. They don't ever have guests.
"Like we practiced, Sephiroth," Landon says. His fingers clamp over his shoulder and Sephiroth twitches. It was time for his spot and best behavior. His words came out like a growl so he holds his breath. The chair in the living room waits for him. Landon places him in it like a toy. His toes don't touch the floor.
The doctor moves from the room, much faster than he had seen before.
The fireplace is to his left and he stares into the flames. It's warm and calms his stomach. It is going to be okay. Shoes stomp and the hangers by the front door clatter. He puts his hands in his lap. He can't remember which hand is supposed to go on top of each other. Ten adult steps from the front door is the main lobby. He would get his first view of their company then. They chat about the drive. It was easy but long. The town is small. The snow is deep. They are eager to get back to Midgar. Mariella asks about the new plate. They will email her pictures. It is a marvel.
Sephiroth switches which hand is on top. He convinces himself either way he will get scolded.
"And here is our marvel, professor," Mariella says, appearing and pointing at him without looking, "Sephiroth."
The company comes into view and he sits as straight as he can. The skinny man comes first and Sephiroth forgets to look at the others. The black coat is gone. Underneath it is a neat outfit. The turtleneck of the shirt makes his head look like it swivels on its own. Glasses shine in the firelight and black hair drapes down his back. He's all sharp angles. The heels of his shoes click against the hardwood.
He crosses the room in a second and crouches in front of him. His knees dig into the edges of the chair. This man stares with such deep fascination that it starts ripping him apart. He splits under the intensity and tries to look away. He can't. The scientist is too close.
"Hello Sephiroth, do you remember me?" Cigarette smoke breath chokes him.
Sephiroth shakes his head. He wants to look behind him, to Mariella, but this man takes over everything. He fills the room until everything else is gone. He worries his lip, a habit that Landon has been trying to break.
"It was a long time ago," he says, "I am Professor Hojo. I've been taking care of you from Midgar."
He extends a hand. The fingers are thin and covered with silver scars. Carefully, Sephiroth puts his hand in his. It's rough and still cold from being outside. Professor Hojo shakes it like the way they had practiced with him. He's even closer now, somehow. The world can't put air between them. They look eye to eye but all Sephiroth can see is his scared face in the circular lenses.
"It's nice to meet you," he recites in a whisper.
The left corner of his lip curls up.
"It's nice to meet you too."
Sephiroth's voice feels tight but he has managed the words. Mariella should be proud of him. He tries to look behind Professor Hojo but can't. The room is small. It is just them. He's alone and small.
The smile breaks the stranger's face like it doesn't belong there. "Let me take a closer look at you."
"Okay."
The hands attack him, grasping his chin and forehead, twisting him into profile. It hurts. Sephiroth brings up his arms and a leg to kick back. No. He drops them. It is okay. The smoke smell is in his nose and mouth as Professor Hojo comes so close that he can feel his warm breath. The fingers dig through to his skull.
He squeezes his eyes shut. The darkness is better. He clutches onto the arms.
"Yes, I can see her features and of course you've inherited the brain…" He mutters.
Sephiroth's heart pounds. He should be safe. He should be okay. The back of his chair won't let him lean any further.
The clamping hand on forehead smooths and runs back through his hair. It's like snow down his back. He squirms. The fingers drape across the back of his neck, lazy but firm. He cracks an eye. Professor Hojo's eyes are inches from him. Both doctors have done something like this before but the grip is different. Sephiroth can't move his body. It doesn't belong to him. He's trapped.
"When did his eyes change, Ms. Haynes?" Professor Hojo asks and that releases Sephiroth. The room is huge again. Mariella is standing next to Professor Hojo with her hands laced. She's right there. He focuses on her calm face as the man pries his lips apart to look at his closed mouth.
"The vertical pupils have been a feature since birth but the mako exposure did change the color. They were blue and now they are a distinct blue green," She says steadily.
He had taken him all week to get used to the new colors in the mirrors.
The professor hums. "The silver hair is inherited from your mother. Her gift to you, among many, we hope."
Sephiroth wants to ask but his jaw is locked as his head is swiveled the other way. Two fingers dig into his throat. Two other fingers roll across his teeth. Sephiroth shakes.
"Anything else to report besides the promising?"
Snaps click near his ear and he flinches away. She's calm as she watches all this. It must be okay. She would stop him if this is wrong. He holds onto the chair anyways. The room spins until he takes a breath.
"Nothing significant since Thursday. Only steady progress."
"96 BPM, you are one stressed kid under the surface, aren't we?" Professor Hojo asks softly. The fingers stop jabbing and the professor withdraws back to a squat. The space between them is miles. Sephiroth's chest flutters up and down. Everyone is looking at him. He wants to leave, to go up to his room, to go under the covers where no one would see him. Landon stands near the door. His eyes tell him everything he needs to know.
He sits in his chair and wiggles his legs.
"Coffee, conversation, and a smoke." Professor Hojo stands. The attention goes to him. "Landon?"
"Of course," he says and turns to the kitchen.
Sephiroth crumples in the chair. All attention is gone as the professor sweeps across the room. He's nothing against the power of the stranger. He must be cold. He can't stop shivering.
A finger taps on his shoulder and he jumps.
"Why don't you head upstairs for a few minutes? I'll come get you if we need you," Mariella's voice is warm. He doesn't wait another second. He disappears. He needs the space, the air, everything he can put between him and the professor. He would throw the mountains and snow between them if he could.
He's more monstrous than Project G.
Dinner comes. Sephiroth is called back down and eats, trying to be invisible again. He doesn't say a word. The food is tasteless. The carrots are pale and the laughter is thin. Professor Hojo stares only at him from his own chair at the head of the table. He hardly talks. The meat on his plate is divided into square chunks and are eaten from right to left.
Sephiroth doesn't belong to himself. This man reads him like a book. The fork with a piece of cubed meat pauses close to his lips as they make eye contact.
Sephiroth sees the future happening.
Professor Hojo reaches across the table and shoves his hand down Sephiroth's throat. The long fingers swim down, cold and sharp, as Sephiroth chokes. The nails snag his guts and draw them out of his mouth, spreading them long across the table. They are bloody and snake-like. First, he read them like a magazine, dragging them around with his knife and looking for something he doesn't have. Then Professor Hojo dissects them with his fork and knife. He starts with his heart and stops with his guts. Everything turns into small squares of meat. As Sephiroth dies suffocating and sluggish, he watches the man eat the neat squares right to left. The other adults don't stop him. They only clear away the dirty dishes with their heads down and bring napkins for him to wipe his lips.
Later, they clear his body out with the trash, helpless of any other option.
Professor Hojo doesn't do that.
He smiles instead.
It's scarier.
They leave shortly after dinner. Mariella's lips are tight. Landon's hand is on the door frame. Sephiroth hovers behind them.
Only when the car pulls away does he feel the ice melt in his stomach and he bursts into tears.
Sorry for that little delay. Editing this was monstrous. I feel like I rewrote 40% of this. I find Hojo tricky to write. I'm too nice to see things from his angle. Hopefully I do him "justice" in this story.
Thanks for reading as always and happy holidays,
-Quin