Chapter One – Part Two
Spira had never been a peaceful world and in the past decade or so it had become more violent than ever. Contending forces constantly swept across the plains and low hills, surging, falling back only to regroup and surge again. The only changes were in the number of the dead and the sophistication of the weapons used.
Mounfar pondered his most recent decisions. As Obermaester, his was the responsibility of binding together the disparate needs and passions of the people under his governance, driving them all in the direction necessary for their survival. He had, during his term of office, reconstituted the army, using mercenaries principally as commanders while filling the ranks with the more troublesome of the common herd and then hurling the larger, unified force at a single foe. It was he who had that discovered Sin, the eternal foe, was perfectly suited to fill the role of universal enemy and had established a permanent War to accomplish that deed.
All had gone as he intended until the Llyob suddenly sprang up seemingly from the void. Over a period of time, they had grown stronger and more adroit at using the fiends as weapons and it had been a long time since a major victory. The masses of Spira were becoming restive as they began to understand that they fought a mortal enemy who could be killed, not the elemental forces they had been trained to fear. When the Obermaester had seen that there was a danger of the people rousing from their trance of fear, he had moved decisively to reset the game board. It was an open secret among the Council that Sin could be, to a certain extent, manipulated. They had used the technique of baiting to choose the advantageous ground on numerous occasions. This time Mounfar had planned to stage a great spectacle, one that while not visible to the mass of the populace could be recorded and played back endlessly, one with drama and heroic acts and visible results.
He had intended nothing less than a public exorcism of their great enemy at the crest of the highest mountain on the planet. Sin would be lured to the peak there to be confronted by a stellar cast of the most practiced Mages, the strongest and most courageous fighters and the Grand Summoner. The rite might or might not work, but it would certainly divert the mobs and buy some time. While the expedition ended in disaster, it had at least accomplished part of his goal – the populace was definitely diverted. Tragedy is almost as effective as victory in creating unity among disparate groups.
Alone in his chamber, Mounfar stretched back in his throne-chair, his fingers steepled, and reassured himself, "It was the right thing to do today. What else could I have done when the whole thing went so wrong so fast? I never meant him to die on Mount Gagazet; he was supposed to come out the hero, the shield of the Summoner who sent Sin away.... Resurrection, there's the ticket. No, better than resurrection, - continuation. If his brain is still functioning, it's not really death." He considered that for the moment, found it good and continued. "This is exactly what we need – a symbol to cover us, to change the subject. Nooj is perfect; he's from that Warrior family – one of the trusted ones, the unbending ones. God must surely be looking after us to give us such a prize. What's more, he has caught the fancy of the mobs and they aren't so fickle as to abandon a genuine wounded hero who has given so much defending Spira. A wounded hero – the perfect choice to be Hierophant when we finally set up our new government. Kinoc won't have a chance. We'll install a warrior, a wounded veteran – you don't need arms and legs to govern, so it'll be all right. Plus, I just gave him a medal and have all those spheres of him accepting it – the ones that make him look like a modern legend. Legend indeed – reincarnation, resurrection – he'll wake up to find himself the best known, most idolized man this world has ever known. If he wakes up ... I will personally wring the neck of that surgeon- what's his name? – Gaing - if his gadgets don't work. ... What if his mind is gone or if the implants won't serve? Well, we didn't exactly announce what we're doing so we've lost nothing and I'll just have to find another way to reconcile the masses to us. It won't be for the first time."
"Nooj, can you hear me? Can you understand me?"
He stirred slightly and whispered, "Yes" in a voice that was thready and hoarse with disuse.
"Give him some water, - now."
He felt his head lifted by steady hands and the rim of a vessel touch his lips. He drank eagerly and sank back onto a firm slanted surface. His voice still rough but stronger, he asked, "... dead?"
"No, you are in a hospital having your wounds cared for. How do you feel?"
"Can't see?"
"There was some slight damage to your eyes during the battle so they are lightly bandaged for protection." The answer was intended to be reassuring but somehow came out sounding devious. "You are not blind but we want to wait a little longer for your body to repair itself. Are you in pain?"
"Yes... no, no matter. Sin ... Summoner..."
"The Summoner is unharmed but Sin still exists. We are trying..."
Nooj interrupted, his words growing stronger, "No... No! ...I remember...saw it ...arm, chest dissolve...felt death... can't be here...dead...where?" He struggled to move, reaching with his remaining hand toward his left side.
"Quick, calm him," ordered the Al Bhed surgeon and the attendant healer sent a sedating spell toward the patient. Nooj slumped back and was still.
Gaing turned to his audience, "We have, as you see, installed the heart and the lung together with the portion of the rib cage that was missing. As I planned, we attached the synthetic lung directly to the new ribs so that a larger surface could absorb oxygen and process it. This is an innovative technique that I expect to become standard as the advantages involved become more fully understood. Also, it is no longer necessary for him to actually expand..." He continued to explain his actions and their reasons.
"...We arranged this demonstration primarily to make sure that the brain survived the initial trauma with sufficient acuity to make it worth the time and cost required to implant the other prostheses – the limbs; after all, these are prototypes and quite expensive." He bowed in the direction of LeBlanc and moved his pointer down to tap the now cleaned and sutured stump of the left thigh. "As you may note, we were able to salvage enough of the upper thigh to have somewhere to attach the machina leg. That will eliminate one of the major problems we have encountered in prosthetics for the lower limbs – the synthetic joint. The subject will be able to use his real hip to move his new leg, which should increase his mobility by several orders of magnitude.... Basically, I intend to use as much of the subject's own bone structure as possible and tie it into the prostheses with metal or ceramic rods screwed and glued into the bone. This will provide a strong and integrated unit which will be both permanent and adaptable." The pointer danced over the bandaged body. "Of course, in the shoulder area there is little bone remaining so I shall utilize the cage I constructed as a replacement for the missing ribs – the one to which I anchored the new lung - which is itself attached to what remains of the sternum, the posterior ribs and the spine. Difficult, but not impossible, as you will see. In so far as possible, I plan to connect the frayed nerve endings to the newly designed receptors I have developed to give the subject the ability to move the limbs mentally rather than with physical muscles alone. I don't know how much feeling the subject will regain in the areas, probably not much since we are using only somatic receptors which are simpler, but this is the beginning of fully natural replacement limbs in humans and, as such, will afford us a great deal of information about how to proceed. While we consider what we have accomplished already with this subject to be a revolutionary success even if the subject fails to survive, we shall continue our work and inform you further when it is complete, whatever the outcome." He turned toward the table only to be stopped by the scornful voice of the Maestress Dida.
"Now will you admit I'm right? You demand that we note, see, admire what you've done so far with this exciting new construction kit we've given you. Well, we see all right. What we have all definitely seen is that you have abused not only your talents and our forbearance but also this man. We saw that his mind is clear and sharp and that he rejects what you are doing to him. We took note of his horror, his disgust at finding he has been used as an experimental object for the benefit of Al Bhed tinkering. What's more – since our last meeting in this room when you broached your loathsome plans, I have made it my concern to learn more about this man – Nooj. Yes," she stared directed at Mounfar, "he is a hero to the people of Spira and to the troops he has led into battle. But do you know why? Because he is fearless; because he courts death. You have taken the one man in our army who seemingly has no wish to live and done this to him. I would laugh at the irony were I not weeping from your cruelty."
"What are you saying, Dida? Are you slandering him by calling him ..." Quoin could not say the word.
"No, I've only said that he never took any care to preserve his life when he had it and doesn't seem all that grateful to still be among the living. And you, Gaing, actually tell us that you mean to continue to turn him into something you think will add to your glory. You want us to let you continue to carve away until you've tried out all your disgusting ideas. What are you planning eventually – the wholesale manufacture of soulless Cyborg warriors? Bah! You disgust me!" she stamped an angry foot.
"What did you expect?" Quoin demanded testily. "Did you think he would wake up the first time understanding everything? The job's not done yet; the limbs aren't attached and he hasn't heard the explanations. Just wait – when he finds out that he's alive and not crippled, he'll be grateful. Things will look different to him when he can actually see what we've done for him. Of course, he's a little upset now; last time he was conscious, he was on Mount Gagazet, fighting Sin and not doing all that well. If he really remembers what happened up there, he's probably confused by this whole thing. Give him some time. He'll be happy enough when he realizes that he's still alive. Who wouldn't? You've misunderstood what you've heard. A man may be brave and reckless without being a ..."
"In any case, the point is moot. What do you want us to do? Kill him? That won't be easy," drawled Rebant. "Not only do our ethics, which you enjoy citing to us, frown on actual murder, but that heart the Al Bhed installed is not so readily stopped."
"You seemingly can't help being a fool, Rebant. Of course we can't murder him but we have such a concept as euthanasia." Dida never conceded an argument.
"And that differs from murder just how?" Neither did Rebant, who considered them great fun.
Gaing took a final disgusted look at the squabbling Council behind the glass and pulled the curtains shut against them. He and his by now seasoned team huddled over the figure before them and started the procedure that would implant the arm and leg and finish the puzzle. The surgeon sighed with satisfaction. This was going perfectly – the strong constitution of his subject had proved to be the ideal medium for the experiments he had planned for so long. He had implanted the replacement heart successfully in a number of cases but the design of the lung was a first as were the attachment methods he intended to use with the limbs. Unlike the older generation of prostheses that were removable, these limbs would be permanently connected to the body they served by the ingenious technique being pioneered by him and his team. With certain neural routings, they promised to be the most advanced of their kind, a genuine breakthrough. He had explained it roughly in layman's terms to the Council but they could never have understood the true genius of what he was preparing to do. He lifted his scalpel with the anticipation of a conductor raising his baton. If all went as well as the lung had apparently done, he would become the universally acclaimed greatest surgeon on Spira and could do whatever he wished. He hummed to himself as he thought of the obstacles to his research melting away in the sun of his success with this project. There would be money too – precious financing that would rid him of the necessity of doing the commonplace surgeries that had always bored him. The humming became a lilting whistle as he congratulated himself. It was a glorious thing to prove a point while giving a generous gift to humanity at large. That he would likely also become very rich just added a grace note to the composition.
Spira had never been a peaceful world and in the past decade or so it had become more violent than ever. Contending forces constantly swept across the plains and low hills, surging, falling back only to regroup and surge again. The only changes were in the number of the dead and the sophistication of the weapons used.
Mounfar pondered his most recent decisions. As Obermaester, his was the responsibility of binding together the disparate needs and passions of the people under his governance, driving them all in the direction necessary for their survival. He had, during his term of office, reconstituted the army, using mercenaries principally as commanders while filling the ranks with the more troublesome of the common herd and then hurling the larger, unified force at a single foe. It was he who had that discovered Sin, the eternal foe, was perfectly suited to fill the role of universal enemy and had established a permanent War to accomplish that deed.
All had gone as he intended until the Llyob suddenly sprang up seemingly from the void. Over a period of time, they had grown stronger and more adroit at using the fiends as weapons and it had been a long time since a major victory. The masses of Spira were becoming restive as they began to understand that they fought a mortal enemy who could be killed, not the elemental forces they had been trained to fear. When the Obermaester had seen that there was a danger of the people rousing from their trance of fear, he had moved decisively to reset the game board. It was an open secret among the Council that Sin could be, to a certain extent, manipulated. They had used the technique of baiting to choose the advantageous ground on numerous occasions. This time Mounfar had planned to stage a great spectacle, one that while not visible to the mass of the populace could be recorded and played back endlessly, one with drama and heroic acts and visible results.
He had intended nothing less than a public exorcism of their great enemy at the crest of the highest mountain on the planet. Sin would be lured to the peak there to be confronted by a stellar cast of the most practiced Mages, the strongest and most courageous fighters and the Grand Summoner. The rite might or might not work, but it would certainly divert the mobs and buy some time. While the expedition ended in disaster, it had at least accomplished part of his goal – the populace was definitely diverted. Tragedy is almost as effective as victory in creating unity among disparate groups.
Alone in his chamber, Mounfar stretched back in his throne-chair, his fingers steepled, and reassured himself, "It was the right thing to do today. What else could I have done when the whole thing went so wrong so fast? I never meant him to die on Mount Gagazet; he was supposed to come out the hero, the shield of the Summoner who sent Sin away.... Resurrection, there's the ticket. No, better than resurrection, - continuation. If his brain is still functioning, it's not really death." He considered that for the moment, found it good and continued. "This is exactly what we need – a symbol to cover us, to change the subject. Nooj is perfect; he's from that Warrior family – one of the trusted ones, the unbending ones. God must surely be looking after us to give us such a prize. What's more, he has caught the fancy of the mobs and they aren't so fickle as to abandon a genuine wounded hero who has given so much defending Spira. A wounded hero – the perfect choice to be Hierophant when we finally set up our new government. Kinoc won't have a chance. We'll install a warrior, a wounded veteran – you don't need arms and legs to govern, so it'll be all right. Plus, I just gave him a medal and have all those spheres of him accepting it – the ones that make him look like a modern legend. Legend indeed – reincarnation, resurrection – he'll wake up to find himself the best known, most idolized man this world has ever known. If he wakes up ... I will personally wring the neck of that surgeon- what's his name? – Gaing - if his gadgets don't work. ... What if his mind is gone or if the implants won't serve? Well, we didn't exactly announce what we're doing so we've lost nothing and I'll just have to find another way to reconcile the masses to us. It won't be for the first time."
"Nooj, can you hear me? Can you understand me?"
He stirred slightly and whispered, "Yes" in a voice that was thready and hoarse with disuse.
"Give him some water, - now."
He felt his head lifted by steady hands and the rim of a vessel touch his lips. He drank eagerly and sank back onto a firm slanted surface. His voice still rough but stronger, he asked, "... dead?"
"No, you are in a hospital having your wounds cared for. How do you feel?"
"Can't see?"
"There was some slight damage to your eyes during the battle so they are lightly bandaged for protection." The answer was intended to be reassuring but somehow came out sounding devious. "You are not blind but we want to wait a little longer for your body to repair itself. Are you in pain?"
"Yes... no, no matter. Sin ... Summoner..."
"The Summoner is unharmed but Sin still exists. We are trying..."
Nooj interrupted, his words growing stronger, "No... No! ...I remember...saw it ...arm, chest dissolve...felt death... can't be here...dead...where?" He struggled to move, reaching with his remaining hand toward his left side.
"Quick, calm him," ordered the Al Bhed surgeon and the attendant healer sent a sedating spell toward the patient. Nooj slumped back and was still.
Gaing turned to his audience, "We have, as you see, installed the heart and the lung together with the portion of the rib cage that was missing. As I planned, we attached the synthetic lung directly to the new ribs so that a larger surface could absorb oxygen and process it. This is an innovative technique that I expect to become standard as the advantages involved become more fully understood. Also, it is no longer necessary for him to actually expand..." He continued to explain his actions and their reasons.
"...We arranged this demonstration primarily to make sure that the brain survived the initial trauma with sufficient acuity to make it worth the time and cost required to implant the other prostheses – the limbs; after all, these are prototypes and quite expensive." He bowed in the direction of LeBlanc and moved his pointer down to tap the now cleaned and sutured stump of the left thigh. "As you may note, we were able to salvage enough of the upper thigh to have somewhere to attach the machina leg. That will eliminate one of the major problems we have encountered in prosthetics for the lower limbs – the synthetic joint. The subject will be able to use his real hip to move his new leg, which should increase his mobility by several orders of magnitude.... Basically, I intend to use as much of the subject's own bone structure as possible and tie it into the prostheses with metal or ceramic rods screwed and glued into the bone. This will provide a strong and integrated unit which will be both permanent and adaptable." The pointer danced over the bandaged body. "Of course, in the shoulder area there is little bone remaining so I shall utilize the cage I constructed as a replacement for the missing ribs – the one to which I anchored the new lung - which is itself attached to what remains of the sternum, the posterior ribs and the spine. Difficult, but not impossible, as you will see. In so far as possible, I plan to connect the frayed nerve endings to the newly designed receptors I have developed to give the subject the ability to move the limbs mentally rather than with physical muscles alone. I don't know how much feeling the subject will regain in the areas, probably not much since we are using only somatic receptors which are simpler, but this is the beginning of fully natural replacement limbs in humans and, as such, will afford us a great deal of information about how to proceed. While we consider what we have accomplished already with this subject to be a revolutionary success even if the subject fails to survive, we shall continue our work and inform you further when it is complete, whatever the outcome." He turned toward the table only to be stopped by the scornful voice of the Maestress Dida.
"Now will you admit I'm right? You demand that we note, see, admire what you've done so far with this exciting new construction kit we've given you. Well, we see all right. What we have all definitely seen is that you have abused not only your talents and our forbearance but also this man. We saw that his mind is clear and sharp and that he rejects what you are doing to him. We took note of his horror, his disgust at finding he has been used as an experimental object for the benefit of Al Bhed tinkering. What's more – since our last meeting in this room when you broached your loathsome plans, I have made it my concern to learn more about this man – Nooj. Yes," she stared directed at Mounfar, "he is a hero to the people of Spira and to the troops he has led into battle. But do you know why? Because he is fearless; because he courts death. You have taken the one man in our army who seemingly has no wish to live and done this to him. I would laugh at the irony were I not weeping from your cruelty."
"What are you saying, Dida? Are you slandering him by calling him ..." Quoin could not say the word.
"No, I've only said that he never took any care to preserve his life when he had it and doesn't seem all that grateful to still be among the living. And you, Gaing, actually tell us that you mean to continue to turn him into something you think will add to your glory. You want us to let you continue to carve away until you've tried out all your disgusting ideas. What are you planning eventually – the wholesale manufacture of soulless Cyborg warriors? Bah! You disgust me!" she stamped an angry foot.
"What did you expect?" Quoin demanded testily. "Did you think he would wake up the first time understanding everything? The job's not done yet; the limbs aren't attached and he hasn't heard the explanations. Just wait – when he finds out that he's alive and not crippled, he'll be grateful. Things will look different to him when he can actually see what we've done for him. Of course, he's a little upset now; last time he was conscious, he was on Mount Gagazet, fighting Sin and not doing all that well. If he really remembers what happened up there, he's probably confused by this whole thing. Give him some time. He'll be happy enough when he realizes that he's still alive. Who wouldn't? You've misunderstood what you've heard. A man may be brave and reckless without being a ..."
"In any case, the point is moot. What do you want us to do? Kill him? That won't be easy," drawled Rebant. "Not only do our ethics, which you enjoy citing to us, frown on actual murder, but that heart the Al Bhed installed is not so readily stopped."
"You seemingly can't help being a fool, Rebant. Of course we can't murder him but we have such a concept as euthanasia." Dida never conceded an argument.
"And that differs from murder just how?" Neither did Rebant, who considered them great fun.
Gaing took a final disgusted look at the squabbling Council behind the glass and pulled the curtains shut against them. He and his by now seasoned team huddled over the figure before them and started the procedure that would implant the arm and leg and finish the puzzle. The surgeon sighed with satisfaction. This was going perfectly – the strong constitution of his subject had proved to be the ideal medium for the experiments he had planned for so long. He had implanted the replacement heart successfully in a number of cases but the design of the lung was a first as were the attachment methods he intended to use with the limbs. Unlike the older generation of prostheses that were removable, these limbs would be permanently connected to the body they served by the ingenious technique being pioneered by him and his team. With certain neural routings, they promised to be the most advanced of their kind, a genuine breakthrough. He had explained it roughly in layman's terms to the Council but they could never have understood the true genius of what he was preparing to do. He lifted his scalpel with the anticipation of a conductor raising his baton. If all went as well as the lung had apparently done, he would become the universally acclaimed greatest surgeon on Spira and could do whatever he wished. He hummed to himself as he thought of the obstacles to his research melting away in the sun of his success with this project. There would be money too – precious financing that would rid him of the necessity of doing the commonplace surgeries that had always bored him. The humming became a lilting whistle as he congratulated himself. It was a glorious thing to prove a point while giving a generous gift to humanity at large. That he would likely also become very rich just added a grace note to the composition.