Chapter Four: "I want to tell you: I feel hung up, and I don't know why."
Zero ran.
Out of the classroom, past the gym, down to the Library/Media Center.
Sweat poured down his face; scrape marks and cuts throbbed, still raw from a fight.
Instructor Azuma had come in that day, in his usual athletic gear, pince- nez spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. He stared at the class, then announced: "Candidates, we are foregoing our Pro-Ing training today, and we will instead watch a documentary on the Battle of 'Lost Property.'" He ran a hand through his hair, ash-brown with grey streaks, and stared hard at Zero. "If anyone here decides to take a nap during the presentation, there will be serious consequences."
A snort went up behind Zero. "Candidate 87! That applies to you as well!"
The film lived down to Zero's worst expectations: a dry, rote work, smacking more of propaganda than documentary. He had to pinch himself at the most boring parts. What a patronizing load of crap this is. History? Only if you squint and tilt your head to the side.
When the lights went up, Azuma stood in front of the class, his eyes boring through Zero. "Would anyone here care to tell me their thoughts on this presentation?"
Clay raised his hand, digipad at the ready. "Candidate 89, please let one of your classmates speak up. Candidate 88! What are your comments on our documentary?"
Zero stood, giving the instructor a look of pure disgust. "I have no comment, Sir. May I be seated?"
"Candidate, you have not answered my question. You may not sit down until you have given me a direct reply."
Zero squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath. If you insist, sir, but you're not going to like what I have to say. "Very well. The documentary---and I use the term in the loosest sense possible---was poorly put together, with little to no connection between what was on the screen and the events as they took place."
He watched Azuma's jaw, as it clenched.
A collective gasp rippled through the room.
Zero continued: "Furthermore, the film played on the hackneyed theme of "GOA good, VICTIM bad," in a condescending way. A three-year-old child would be insulted. I am not trying to downplay the ongoing struggle for Zion, Sir, but most of us are here because we want to be, not because of this recruitment piece you're attempting to fob off as a documentary. May I now be seated, Sir?"
Azuma walked toward the dark-haired Candidate, grabbing him by the lapels of his uniform. "Ten points for insubordination, 88."
"Is that all, Sir, or do you intend to keep spitting on me?" Zero asked, keeping a steady gaze on the instructor, whose face turned purple.
"You will spend the next three days in Cuerval, without your Repairer. You will also write, for me, a 15-page essay on the Battle of Lost Property, with endnotes and a bibliography. And if you persist in this belligerence toward me, you will find yourself in the Isolation Wing, do I make myself clear?"
"Exceptionally so, Sir," Zero replied, in a calm tone.
Azuma shoved the Candidate toward his seat. "I do not want to hear from you for the rest of the day. Candidate 89! Your comments on this film."
Clay spoke up; Zero stared ahead, tuning out the patter.
"Class dismissed." The Candidates began filing out. "Candidates 87 and 88, you stay."
Hiead shot Zero a venomous glance.
"Take out paper and pen, ladies. Pop quiz."
Both Candidates groaned, and sat down, while Azuma fired off questions. Ten minutes later, he left the room. Zero was ready to rise from his seat, when he felt a fist connect with his cheek. Lurching forward, he tumbled onto the floor, and scrambled to his feet.
"And what the fuck was that for?!" Zero yelled.
"Since when did you grow a brain?" Hiead said. "You had to bollix the class for me, didn't you, with your hot air? Stick to flossing your toes, and leave the brainiac stuff to Fortran. At least he has something other than lint between his ears." Ruby-red eyes flashed with spite.
Zero lunged at Hiead, hands wrapping around the other boy's neck. The two fell to the floor, struggling and clawing. "Hypocrite! You're dying 'cos I said what you didn't have the cojones to say. Don't give me that goody- goody, diligent student crap. You were itching to slug Azuma when he announced that we didn't have practice."
"You do not presume to tell me what's in my head, Enna." Hiead landed an elbow in Zero's ribs.
"What's in your head, Gner, that's so bloody precious? 'I hate you and everyone else in the universe, so out of my way before I rip out your spleen'? Your attitude puts me to sleep these days." Zero punched Hiead in the solar plexus. "And as for the 'brain dead Enna' tosh, I'd be happy to show you where to stick it."
Hiead spat in Zero's face. "You mean the way you country boys stick it to the sheep?"
Zero flew up, taking a stance. "Leave my home colony out of this."
Hiead got up, walking away. "You should have stayed in the boonies."
"And you," Zero called out, "should never have been born." His hands flew, in shock, over his mouth. Oh my lord, what did I just say? What possessed me to say that? Well, Enna, make these final moments count.
Hiead paused, looking at his rival. He walked over, lowered Zero's hands, and brought his face closer. Anger warred with something else in his eyes. Mercy, are those tears?
"Enna," he whispered, "tell me you didn't mean that." Though if you say you didn't mean it at all, I can spit you as a liar.
"For a moment, I did," Zero replied, "and the moment passed. And I don't know if I can take that back."
Hiead trembled. "Think you hurt me? Don't flatter yourself. You just landed another blow on the bruise." He laughed, a short, bitter sound. "But save your apologies for later. For now, I suggest you keep your distance."
He turned away, and left the room.
Zero bolted through the Library's double doors. Clay sat in a carrel, poring over a reproduction of a book of works by Matisse. He got up, intercepting the dark-haired boy. Caramel eyes scanned Zero, through large eyeglasses.
"Care to tell me," Clay asked, "what that little outburst in class was about?"
"No. No, Clay, I would rather not tell you. So kindly drop the subject." Zero's eyes glittered, turning frosty. Keep pressing, and you'll get more than you want.
"I will not drop it," Clay replied. "You've changed. I don't know what happened after you encountered VICTIM, but you are not the same. What happened---are you channeling Hiead or something?"
Zero's voice tightened. "Clay, I'm telling you, I do not want to talk. Leave it be."
"It's bad enough to bunk with one mental case. I refuse to watch you become prime Borstal material. Come on, I'm not dense. You barely communicate with Kizna; you spend less time hanging out; and you don't want anyone near you. I don't understand why you've gotten so distant. You're not the sullen, brooding kind."
Zero shook his head, and fixed his gaze on Clay. "So what am I, then? A ditz? A nimrod? Am I here for everyone's amusement? Maybe I'm Azuma's whipping boy. Or Rill's lab rat, what with the times I've wound up in the infirmary. Do you know, do you even care, what I think?"
"Of course I do."
"Then trust me on this, and back away. I'll talk when I'm ready, not before. Got that?"
Clay gave him a hurt look. "Yes. But don't take forever."
"See you later." Zero walked away, heading to the Media Center, where he found a free computer terminal. He logged in: enna88@goasys.org and checked his email. A message from cocteau@gis.org flashed on the screen. He opened the note, which read:
~Rei, how are you? What's going on?
~I miss you greatly. Hugging a pillow isn't the same as holding you, koibito.
~How is the training coming along? What about the lectures? Is the sludge as dreadful as I remember, or has someone managed to rescue the food from the cooks?
~Life at GIS is all right, I guess. Yu and Kazuhi are quiet, but they try to be gracious. Tune is a wonderful repairer; she keeps Reneighd Klein in prime condition. I think she still gets a bit sad when she thinks about Ernest. Leena is the den mother here: she's always looking out for everyone. Phil has her hands full, what with Rio and his antics!
~As for Garu, well, I don't know what to say. And Teela---perhaps you can tell me about her.
~How about you, Chestnut? Are you all right? The last letter I got from you seemed a little---well, terse. I know I'm not in the same room with you, but I feel you, and I know that you're going through something. You can tell me, if you like. You don't have to say everything, but I really do want to know if I can ease your mind, somehow.
~Know that you are always in my thoughts, Rei. May the Goddesses protect you.
~All love, Erts. ~
Zero sat back, then hit the Reply button.
~To: cocteau@gis.org
~From: enna88@goasys.org
~Reply-to: (none)
~Copy: (none)
~Subject: Blue period, black comedy
~Dear Erts,
~thank you so much for the email. Hope that things are all right at GIS.
~Truth be told, I've wanted to talk with you for some time now. Guess that now is as good a time as any. If anything I say sounds kind of jumbled up, well, it's 'cos I don't understand a lot of what's happening either. Please bear with me, koibito.
~I've been having strange, strange dreams of late. Yes, you know about the dreams I've had of my old home. But these dreams are sad and violent. I know they aren't mine---I mean, the places, the people, and the face in the mirror all belong to someone else. Frightening thing is, when I wake up, there are scars, bruises, cuts, and the like. I've even had burn marks on me, Erts, and I have not clue one as to how these things are happening.
~Last week, I had a nightmare where I was in a testing facility---some anonymous building in a district with abandoned slaughterhouses---and I had more punctures in me than any junkie. I barely managed to wake up, and get to the toilet. I was heaving blood; can you believe it? To make the whole incident weirder, Hiead walked in on me, and cleaned me up. You heard right. Mr. Beautiful-but-Homicidal himself, walked in, and after trading insults, took a towel to clean my face, and waited for me to rinse the blood and bile from my mouth. Said he'd be bored if I'd choked on my sick.
~But what's happening with Hiead, that's another story.
~I can imagine sitting with Rill herself. She'd probably tell me it was some sort of hysteria, and that I need a stint at a Borstal. Clay thinks I'm halfway mad; Azuma tells me I'm belligerent; Kizna thinks I'm being a jerk for all seasons. But tell me, is it madness to not want others treating me like an airhead? How long am I supposed to suck up all the insults, all the backhanded remarks, and do it with a fake smile?
~Sometimes I think that it might be better to just plaster on the happy face, laugh with others when I rip my pants, and let them think me a carefree, headstrong yahoo. Give the people what they want, shove the rest into a little closet. But I am so tired of doing that. So utterly fed up. And yet, when I do want to show anyone what is really going on, I'm called sullen and withdrawn, and asked why I have such a rotten attitude. So basically, I'm screwed if I play the happy idiot, and screwed if I decide not to play the fool.
~I'm not trying to make you sad or anything. These last few months have been really hard, and I want someone that will listen. Nobody else knows me well as you do. And I'm sorry if I've been short with you. There's just so much going on. If you were here, I'd probably cry on your shoulder for at least a good hour. And I'd gladly let you kiss my tears away. But you're there, and I'm here, so I have to figure out how to unburden without causing bodily harm, to others or to myself. Any suggestions?
~Another thing about the dreams: as I said, the face in the mirror isn't mine. And at first the features were sort of blurry. But they're beginning to come into focus now. I don't know if it's projection or possession---these dreams of a hellish past---but when I pass a mirror, I see Hiead's face. To make things even more surreal, I've started having dreams where I am me, but older, and with someone. The voice is familiar, though I have yet to place the face.
~And here's the real strange part: I think Hiead may be experiencing something similar. I haven't had the nerve to ask, but I get the feeling that he's been dreaming too. Where is he, and whose face does he see, when he sleeps? And who's there with him, if he's dreaming of years to come?
~There have also been times when, I swear, I can tap into Gner's thoughts. I've caught bits and pieces, particularly after we've had a fight or an argument.
~Do forgive me! I've been going on and on for some time now. Thanks for your patience, for listening. Can't wait to hear from you. I'd really like to plant kisses all over you, to hear you sigh and watch you smile. But till then, I guess I'll content myself with kissing your picture and hugging my pillow. Be well, Erts.
~Your devoted fool, Rei. ~
Zero hit the Send button, and returned to the Inbox. He scrolled past other messages, and then logged out, walking to the Observation Deck. Mother Kannon, please, don't let me run into anyone I know.
Once there, Zero found a niche, and sat down, looking at the sky. Stars, constellations, and moons moved past his view. A blue-green planet gleamed in the distance: Zion, the one planet known to be safe for human life.
What was it like before we came there? Who lived there before us? And do they still? How do the dwellers see us from below? Do they smile, or shiver when they see the lights from GOA? And what happens if we can't secure the planet? Supposing we can, though---what will happen then? And what will life be like, if we do defeat VICTIM?
He put his hands behind his head, and leaned back, falling into a doze.
Zero woke from his nap, to the sound of a voice, singing:
"Nobody knows it, but you've got a secret smile, and you use it only for me. Nobody knows it, but you've got a secret smile, and you use it only for me. So use it, and prove it; remove this whirling sadness. I'm losing, I'm bluesing, but you can save me from madness."
Who is that?
"Nobody knows it, but you've got a secret smile, and you use it only for me. Nobody knows it, but you've got a secret smile, and you use it only for me. So save me, I'm waiting; I'm needing, hear me pleading. And soothe me, improve me; I'm grieving, I'm barely believing now---now."
The voice rose, almost imploring: "When you are flying around and around the world, and I'm lying a-lonely, I know there's something sacred and free, reserved and received by me only."
Zero crept toward the sound, on hands and knees, trying not to alert the singer to his presence. He came up on a willowy silhouette, silver in the pale moonlight. "Nobody knows it, but you've got a secret smile. Nobody knows it, but you've got a secret smile. Nobody knows it, nobody knows it, nobody knows it, but you've got a secret. Nobody knows it, nobody knows it, nobody knows it, but you've got a secret."
Zero crept out, unnoticed by the boy who stared at the moon, whose voice dropped to a whisper. Ruby-red eyes slipped open, and a sob tore his throat.
Hiead Gner sighed, steeling himself for the return to his roommates. Ready to resume the role? Prepare the face, and mind the lines.
After a last look at the night sky, he left the Observation Deck, trudging through the corridor.
Author's Notes
Hello all, and how are you? Hope everyone's Labor Day was good.
D-chan: yes indeed, count on a bit of how these dreams have been affecting Zero. And as for the telepathic aspect, I think it safe to say they can read each other, but only a little, and mostly when emotions run real high. But look for that to change. UE: tovarishch, thank you so much for the feedback. It's tricky to balance the tensions between these two. But I hope to do my best. AnimeCat: thank you for the five-star rating. I hope to bring out more quality material.
Music notes: the title is a line taken from the Beatles' "I Want to Tell You," written by George Harrison, and (if memory serves) licensed through his estate. The song which Zero overhears is "Secret Smile," which is off Semisonic's album, Feeling Strangely Fine.
Coming Soon: a few good journal entries. Erts replies to Zero: what does he have to say? And what has Kizna been writing in her journal? Stay tuned.
I welcome comments, critique, feedback, praise, and flames. Drop me a line! And as always, thank you ever, ever so. Antoinette (poetisa)
P.S. Check out the Vision of Resuko (www.satinflame.net/resuko) for lots of really cool fanart, oekaki, and the like. She has some of the neatest stuff---and when you're done there, take a tour through the EX Files. The banners alone are worth the trip. And for the CCS fans, she has two sites: Suki to Itte and One Who Dreams Alone. Tell your friends.
Zero ran.
Out of the classroom, past the gym, down to the Library/Media Center.
Sweat poured down his face; scrape marks and cuts throbbed, still raw from a fight.
Instructor Azuma had come in that day, in his usual athletic gear, pince- nez spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. He stared at the class, then announced: "Candidates, we are foregoing our Pro-Ing training today, and we will instead watch a documentary on the Battle of 'Lost Property.'" He ran a hand through his hair, ash-brown with grey streaks, and stared hard at Zero. "If anyone here decides to take a nap during the presentation, there will be serious consequences."
A snort went up behind Zero. "Candidate 87! That applies to you as well!"
The film lived down to Zero's worst expectations: a dry, rote work, smacking more of propaganda than documentary. He had to pinch himself at the most boring parts. What a patronizing load of crap this is. History? Only if you squint and tilt your head to the side.
When the lights went up, Azuma stood in front of the class, his eyes boring through Zero. "Would anyone here care to tell me their thoughts on this presentation?"
Clay raised his hand, digipad at the ready. "Candidate 89, please let one of your classmates speak up. Candidate 88! What are your comments on our documentary?"
Zero stood, giving the instructor a look of pure disgust. "I have no comment, Sir. May I be seated?"
"Candidate, you have not answered my question. You may not sit down until you have given me a direct reply."
Zero squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath. If you insist, sir, but you're not going to like what I have to say. "Very well. The documentary---and I use the term in the loosest sense possible---was poorly put together, with little to no connection between what was on the screen and the events as they took place."
He watched Azuma's jaw, as it clenched.
A collective gasp rippled through the room.
Zero continued: "Furthermore, the film played on the hackneyed theme of "GOA good, VICTIM bad," in a condescending way. A three-year-old child would be insulted. I am not trying to downplay the ongoing struggle for Zion, Sir, but most of us are here because we want to be, not because of this recruitment piece you're attempting to fob off as a documentary. May I now be seated, Sir?"
Azuma walked toward the dark-haired Candidate, grabbing him by the lapels of his uniform. "Ten points for insubordination, 88."
"Is that all, Sir, or do you intend to keep spitting on me?" Zero asked, keeping a steady gaze on the instructor, whose face turned purple.
"You will spend the next three days in Cuerval, without your Repairer. You will also write, for me, a 15-page essay on the Battle of Lost Property, with endnotes and a bibliography. And if you persist in this belligerence toward me, you will find yourself in the Isolation Wing, do I make myself clear?"
"Exceptionally so, Sir," Zero replied, in a calm tone.
Azuma shoved the Candidate toward his seat. "I do not want to hear from you for the rest of the day. Candidate 89! Your comments on this film."
Clay spoke up; Zero stared ahead, tuning out the patter.
"Class dismissed." The Candidates began filing out. "Candidates 87 and 88, you stay."
Hiead shot Zero a venomous glance.
"Take out paper and pen, ladies. Pop quiz."
Both Candidates groaned, and sat down, while Azuma fired off questions. Ten minutes later, he left the room. Zero was ready to rise from his seat, when he felt a fist connect with his cheek. Lurching forward, he tumbled onto the floor, and scrambled to his feet.
"And what the fuck was that for?!" Zero yelled.
"Since when did you grow a brain?" Hiead said. "You had to bollix the class for me, didn't you, with your hot air? Stick to flossing your toes, and leave the brainiac stuff to Fortran. At least he has something other than lint between his ears." Ruby-red eyes flashed with spite.
Zero lunged at Hiead, hands wrapping around the other boy's neck. The two fell to the floor, struggling and clawing. "Hypocrite! You're dying 'cos I said what you didn't have the cojones to say. Don't give me that goody- goody, diligent student crap. You were itching to slug Azuma when he announced that we didn't have practice."
"You do not presume to tell me what's in my head, Enna." Hiead landed an elbow in Zero's ribs.
"What's in your head, Gner, that's so bloody precious? 'I hate you and everyone else in the universe, so out of my way before I rip out your spleen'? Your attitude puts me to sleep these days." Zero punched Hiead in the solar plexus. "And as for the 'brain dead Enna' tosh, I'd be happy to show you where to stick it."
Hiead spat in Zero's face. "You mean the way you country boys stick it to the sheep?"
Zero flew up, taking a stance. "Leave my home colony out of this."
Hiead got up, walking away. "You should have stayed in the boonies."
"And you," Zero called out, "should never have been born." His hands flew, in shock, over his mouth. Oh my lord, what did I just say? What possessed me to say that? Well, Enna, make these final moments count.
Hiead paused, looking at his rival. He walked over, lowered Zero's hands, and brought his face closer. Anger warred with something else in his eyes. Mercy, are those tears?
"Enna," he whispered, "tell me you didn't mean that." Though if you say you didn't mean it at all, I can spit you as a liar.
"For a moment, I did," Zero replied, "and the moment passed. And I don't know if I can take that back."
Hiead trembled. "Think you hurt me? Don't flatter yourself. You just landed another blow on the bruise." He laughed, a short, bitter sound. "But save your apologies for later. For now, I suggest you keep your distance."
He turned away, and left the room.
Zero bolted through the Library's double doors. Clay sat in a carrel, poring over a reproduction of a book of works by Matisse. He got up, intercepting the dark-haired boy. Caramel eyes scanned Zero, through large eyeglasses.
"Care to tell me," Clay asked, "what that little outburst in class was about?"
"No. No, Clay, I would rather not tell you. So kindly drop the subject." Zero's eyes glittered, turning frosty. Keep pressing, and you'll get more than you want.
"I will not drop it," Clay replied. "You've changed. I don't know what happened after you encountered VICTIM, but you are not the same. What happened---are you channeling Hiead or something?"
Zero's voice tightened. "Clay, I'm telling you, I do not want to talk. Leave it be."
"It's bad enough to bunk with one mental case. I refuse to watch you become prime Borstal material. Come on, I'm not dense. You barely communicate with Kizna; you spend less time hanging out; and you don't want anyone near you. I don't understand why you've gotten so distant. You're not the sullen, brooding kind."
Zero shook his head, and fixed his gaze on Clay. "So what am I, then? A ditz? A nimrod? Am I here for everyone's amusement? Maybe I'm Azuma's whipping boy. Or Rill's lab rat, what with the times I've wound up in the infirmary. Do you know, do you even care, what I think?"
"Of course I do."
"Then trust me on this, and back away. I'll talk when I'm ready, not before. Got that?"
Clay gave him a hurt look. "Yes. But don't take forever."
"See you later." Zero walked away, heading to the Media Center, where he found a free computer terminal. He logged in: enna88@goasys.org and checked his email. A message from cocteau@gis.org flashed on the screen. He opened the note, which read:
~Rei, how are you? What's going on?
~I miss you greatly. Hugging a pillow isn't the same as holding you, koibito.
~How is the training coming along? What about the lectures? Is the sludge as dreadful as I remember, or has someone managed to rescue the food from the cooks?
~Life at GIS is all right, I guess. Yu and Kazuhi are quiet, but they try to be gracious. Tune is a wonderful repairer; she keeps Reneighd Klein in prime condition. I think she still gets a bit sad when she thinks about Ernest. Leena is the den mother here: she's always looking out for everyone. Phil has her hands full, what with Rio and his antics!
~As for Garu, well, I don't know what to say. And Teela---perhaps you can tell me about her.
~How about you, Chestnut? Are you all right? The last letter I got from you seemed a little---well, terse. I know I'm not in the same room with you, but I feel you, and I know that you're going through something. You can tell me, if you like. You don't have to say everything, but I really do want to know if I can ease your mind, somehow.
~Know that you are always in my thoughts, Rei. May the Goddesses protect you.
~All love, Erts. ~
Zero sat back, then hit the Reply button.
~To: cocteau@gis.org
~From: enna88@goasys.org
~Reply-to: (none)
~Copy: (none)
~Subject: Blue period, black comedy
~Dear Erts,
~thank you so much for the email. Hope that things are all right at GIS.
~Truth be told, I've wanted to talk with you for some time now. Guess that now is as good a time as any. If anything I say sounds kind of jumbled up, well, it's 'cos I don't understand a lot of what's happening either. Please bear with me, koibito.
~I've been having strange, strange dreams of late. Yes, you know about the dreams I've had of my old home. But these dreams are sad and violent. I know they aren't mine---I mean, the places, the people, and the face in the mirror all belong to someone else. Frightening thing is, when I wake up, there are scars, bruises, cuts, and the like. I've even had burn marks on me, Erts, and I have not clue one as to how these things are happening.
~Last week, I had a nightmare where I was in a testing facility---some anonymous building in a district with abandoned slaughterhouses---and I had more punctures in me than any junkie. I barely managed to wake up, and get to the toilet. I was heaving blood; can you believe it? To make the whole incident weirder, Hiead walked in on me, and cleaned me up. You heard right. Mr. Beautiful-but-Homicidal himself, walked in, and after trading insults, took a towel to clean my face, and waited for me to rinse the blood and bile from my mouth. Said he'd be bored if I'd choked on my sick.
~But what's happening with Hiead, that's another story.
~I can imagine sitting with Rill herself. She'd probably tell me it was some sort of hysteria, and that I need a stint at a Borstal. Clay thinks I'm halfway mad; Azuma tells me I'm belligerent; Kizna thinks I'm being a jerk for all seasons. But tell me, is it madness to not want others treating me like an airhead? How long am I supposed to suck up all the insults, all the backhanded remarks, and do it with a fake smile?
~Sometimes I think that it might be better to just plaster on the happy face, laugh with others when I rip my pants, and let them think me a carefree, headstrong yahoo. Give the people what they want, shove the rest into a little closet. But I am so tired of doing that. So utterly fed up. And yet, when I do want to show anyone what is really going on, I'm called sullen and withdrawn, and asked why I have such a rotten attitude. So basically, I'm screwed if I play the happy idiot, and screwed if I decide not to play the fool.
~I'm not trying to make you sad or anything. These last few months have been really hard, and I want someone that will listen. Nobody else knows me well as you do. And I'm sorry if I've been short with you. There's just so much going on. If you were here, I'd probably cry on your shoulder for at least a good hour. And I'd gladly let you kiss my tears away. But you're there, and I'm here, so I have to figure out how to unburden without causing bodily harm, to others or to myself. Any suggestions?
~Another thing about the dreams: as I said, the face in the mirror isn't mine. And at first the features were sort of blurry. But they're beginning to come into focus now. I don't know if it's projection or possession---these dreams of a hellish past---but when I pass a mirror, I see Hiead's face. To make things even more surreal, I've started having dreams where I am me, but older, and with someone. The voice is familiar, though I have yet to place the face.
~And here's the real strange part: I think Hiead may be experiencing something similar. I haven't had the nerve to ask, but I get the feeling that he's been dreaming too. Where is he, and whose face does he see, when he sleeps? And who's there with him, if he's dreaming of years to come?
~There have also been times when, I swear, I can tap into Gner's thoughts. I've caught bits and pieces, particularly after we've had a fight or an argument.
~Do forgive me! I've been going on and on for some time now. Thanks for your patience, for listening. Can't wait to hear from you. I'd really like to plant kisses all over you, to hear you sigh and watch you smile. But till then, I guess I'll content myself with kissing your picture and hugging my pillow. Be well, Erts.
~Your devoted fool, Rei. ~
Zero hit the Send button, and returned to the Inbox. He scrolled past other messages, and then logged out, walking to the Observation Deck. Mother Kannon, please, don't let me run into anyone I know.
Once there, Zero found a niche, and sat down, looking at the sky. Stars, constellations, and moons moved past his view. A blue-green planet gleamed in the distance: Zion, the one planet known to be safe for human life.
What was it like before we came there? Who lived there before us? And do they still? How do the dwellers see us from below? Do they smile, or shiver when they see the lights from GOA? And what happens if we can't secure the planet? Supposing we can, though---what will happen then? And what will life be like, if we do defeat VICTIM?
He put his hands behind his head, and leaned back, falling into a doze.
Zero woke from his nap, to the sound of a voice, singing:
"Nobody knows it, but you've got a secret smile, and you use it only for me. Nobody knows it, but you've got a secret smile, and you use it only for me. So use it, and prove it; remove this whirling sadness. I'm losing, I'm bluesing, but you can save me from madness."
Who is that?
"Nobody knows it, but you've got a secret smile, and you use it only for me. Nobody knows it, but you've got a secret smile, and you use it only for me. So save me, I'm waiting; I'm needing, hear me pleading. And soothe me, improve me; I'm grieving, I'm barely believing now---now."
The voice rose, almost imploring: "When you are flying around and around the world, and I'm lying a-lonely, I know there's something sacred and free, reserved and received by me only."
Zero crept toward the sound, on hands and knees, trying not to alert the singer to his presence. He came up on a willowy silhouette, silver in the pale moonlight. "Nobody knows it, but you've got a secret smile. Nobody knows it, but you've got a secret smile. Nobody knows it, nobody knows it, nobody knows it, but you've got a secret. Nobody knows it, nobody knows it, nobody knows it, but you've got a secret."
Zero crept out, unnoticed by the boy who stared at the moon, whose voice dropped to a whisper. Ruby-red eyes slipped open, and a sob tore his throat.
Hiead Gner sighed, steeling himself for the return to his roommates. Ready to resume the role? Prepare the face, and mind the lines.
After a last look at the night sky, he left the Observation Deck, trudging through the corridor.
Author's Notes
Hello all, and how are you? Hope everyone's Labor Day was good.
D-chan: yes indeed, count on a bit of how these dreams have been affecting Zero. And as for the telepathic aspect, I think it safe to say they can read each other, but only a little, and mostly when emotions run real high. But look for that to change. UE: tovarishch, thank you so much for the feedback. It's tricky to balance the tensions between these two. But I hope to do my best. AnimeCat: thank you for the five-star rating. I hope to bring out more quality material.
Music notes: the title is a line taken from the Beatles' "I Want to Tell You," written by George Harrison, and (if memory serves) licensed through his estate. The song which Zero overhears is "Secret Smile," which is off Semisonic's album, Feeling Strangely Fine.
Coming Soon: a few good journal entries. Erts replies to Zero: what does he have to say? And what has Kizna been writing in her journal? Stay tuned.
I welcome comments, critique, feedback, praise, and flames. Drop me a line! And as always, thank you ever, ever so. Antoinette (poetisa)
P.S. Check out the Vision of Resuko (www.satinflame.net/resuko) for lots of really cool fanart, oekaki, and the like. She has some of the neatest stuff---and when you're done there, take a tour through the EX Files. The banners alone are worth the trip. And for the CCS fans, she has two sites: Suki to Itte and One Who Dreams Alone. Tell your friends.