Chapter VI: Futility
A month passed. Hojo came more and more often to do God knows what to Sephiroth. He took him away healthy and brought him back sick. Sephiroth's birthday came and went. He spent it in bed.
And there Miriam was, in the middle of all of it.
She tried to protest whenever Hojo came by, but it was lost upon him. The only thing she could do was care for Sephiroth when he was in pain. Time seemed to lose its regularity. There was only the time when he was sick, when he was well, and the time she was alone. Whenever she tried to give him his chocobo doll, he would just gaze at it with fear in his eyes. Whenever she was in bed, she could hear him calling, calling for his father. Sometimes she would just sit at the counter and cry; sometimes Sephiroth did the same thing.
Today, he was already gone. Hojo had gotten him early. She tried to occupy herself by doing things around the apartment, but inevitably her mind would turn back to Sephiroth. It always did. As she was walking across the foyer with a basket of laundry in her arms, an envelope slipped through the mail slot on the door and fluttered to the ground. Blinking a few times to make sure she wasn't seeing things, she set the basket down and picked up the envelope. It was addressed simply to Miriam Adler, room B-38. Her pulse quickened as she slid a finger under the flap and ripped it open. Inside there was a keycard with a large number 70 on it. Stuck to the keycard was a yellow sticky note with a short message:
This is my card to the 67th floor. If you want the truth, it is waiting for
you there in testing room 105. Gast.
She had a feeling she knew what this was about. It had happened a month ago, the day of Sephiroth's magical aptitude test. There was a knock on the door and Miriam opened it to see an older man holding Sephiroth in his arms. She immediately recognized him as Professor Gast, head of the Science Department. So this is another one of the men responsible for this atrocity, she thought. Bastard. I'll never forgive them.
"Excuse me, Miss Adler," he said. "May I come in? I need to give Sephiroth a rest." His voice was thin and exhausted, like the last breezes of a dying storm. She turned her gaze away but stepped back from the door. "Can you show me where his room is?"
"End of the hall," she said listlessly. She scowled at him, daring to say something else, but her fury was quickly replaced by an odd sense of pity. She knew he couldn't be much older than forty, yet his face was wearied and worn, as if he had aged twenty years in the span of three. He walked slowly as he carried Sephiroth to his room. Actually, it wasn't much like a walk. It was more like a feeble shuffle, the type that you see in an old man that has arthritis in every joint and hardly any energy to climb a set of stairs. What's wrong with him? She thought as she followed him into Sephiroth's room. He was putting Sephiroth under the covers when she came in. His gentleness surprised her; he made sure to pull the covers up completely, and stroked Sephiroth's face with the back of his hand.
"Professor?" she said. All of the hostility had gone out of her voice.
He raised his head. There were tears glistening in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said.
"Sorry?" repeated Miriam. "For...?"
"Everything." Gast drew himself up to his full height. "I'm leaving this place. I can't bear to work on this project any longer."
"Just what is this project?" Miriam pressed. "What does it have to do with Sephiroth?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Why not?" she said with growing hysteria. "You're leaving aren't you? What does it matter if you tell me?"
"I'm bound by my contract with the Shin-Ra," he said. "There will be a lot of trouble if I break it."
"But—" He came over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders the way she did to Sephiroth. Her brandy eyes stared into his hazel ones.
"If anyone deserves to know, it's you," he said. "I'll find a way to show you what's going on. Consider that a promise." He let her go and traipsed out the door. She never saw him again.
Now looking at the card in her hand, she saw a realm of possibilities appear before her. They had only left five minutes ago. She could do it. She could sneak up to the testing room and stop them. There was still time. Putting the card in her pocket with a renewed resolve, she exited the apartment.
As Miriam walked through the corridors, she had an increasing feeling that everybody around was looking at her. It was the same feeling that a child would get when sneaking a midnight snack up to his room, knowing in the back of his mind that an adult would come up to him and ask him what he was doing, like they could somehow sense his secret. And that would be it. Busted. She tried to put on the confident stroll of a business woman going to a meeting just like every day, nothing strange here thank you, but she thought better of it. Just walk like you normally do. No one will notice.
Maybe so, but it sure felt like they would. She came to the end of the hall where it opened up into the plaza. The elevator was just across from where she stood. Crowds of people swarmed past, going about their daily business. Suddenly, she longed for the apartment again, to go back to bed and forget all about this, maybe catch up on a little reading before Sephiroth returned.
No, I can't go back now! she told herself. The plaza was a sea to be crossed, one where a shark could be lurking just beneath its placid surface. Sink or swim. Taking a deep breath, she strode into the sea. Her heart pounded. She would feel a tap on her shoulder and it would be a dark suited Turk standing there telling her that she needed to come with him. Or he could be the last thing she ever saw. The thought sent a tremor running through her.
She reached the elevator and scanned the area. There was just one person looking in her general direction, a man sitting on a bench. She looked at her watch, made an "oh-no-I-forgot-something" expression, and hurried onboard the elevator. When the doors closed, she leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. I feel like a spy, she thought wryly. She swiped the card in the slot and chose 67. The elevator rose rapidly in response.
There were much fewer people on the 67th floor, but Miriam made sure to stick to shadows. A woman in a blue skirt and blouse wearing a hair ribbon would no doubt draw some attention. She slid along the wall, her hands shaking more and more with each step. There were numerous doors in this area, and she counted them off as she went. 99...101...103...105. Getting on her toes, she cupped her hands around her eyes and peered through a little window set into the door. It was empty. Apparently the scientists were still setting up. A cold sweat broke out on her brow as she stepped inside. There was another window in the front wall, this one very large, and beneath it a control panel. It looked out onto a more spacious room devoid of any furnishings. Miriam guessed that's where Sephiroth did his magic, or whatever it was. Two desks were set along the back wall, above them some cabinets. A tall storage closet stood in the furthest corner.
Before she could do anything else, she heard voices approaching from outside the room. Her heart leapt with terrible chest constricting panic. Her legs were rooted to the floor, like in one of those dreams where you wanted to run but couldn't. Oh God, what did I get myself into? Thinking quickly she dashed into the small space beside the closet in the corner and pulled one of the doors open so that it concealed her. She put an eye up to a small opening. Hojo and a technician came in through the door. In the bigger room, another technician came in with (Miriam squeezed her fists shut) Sephiroth and began hooking him up to some equipment. His eyes had a vapid, glazed look.
"As soon as Henri's ready, we can begin the Fire test," said the technician. Hojo just nodded. "If he doesn't make it past a magic power of forty, I'm assuming that means he'll get more Jenova cells." Miriam's mind reeled. Jenova cells? The techie working outside gave a thumbs-up and came into the observation room.
"Okay. Ready whenever you are, professor," he said. Hojo reached to pick up the microphone, but stopped and looked back at where Miriam was hiding. She shrank back against the wall. Amazingly, she had to fight the insane urge to laugh out loud. That's when they made (or she thought they made) eye contact. His eyes were those of a man possessed, no humanity, no mercy. But they shone with brutal and clear sanity. He sees me, oh God he's angry, he's just going to come over here and kill me now. Sephiroth—
"Something wrong, professor?" asked the EEG techie.
To Miriam's immense relief, he turned around again. "It's nothing," he said. "Let's begin." He picked up the microphone. "Sephiroth, I want you to aim your magic at the target on the floor. Make it as powerful as you possibly can."
"No," Sephiroth said.
"What?" said Hojo in a deadly calm voice.
Sephiroth took a hitching breath and dropped the materia. "I won't do it."
Way to go, Sephiroth, thought Miriam.
Hojo set the microphone down without turning it off and went outside into the testing room. Picking up the materia, he knelt beside his son. "Sephiroth, take the materia," he said, his voice perfectly neutral.
"No." He looked down at the floor.
"Why not?"
Sephiroth looked up again, but this time tears were spilling from his eyes. "Because no matter how much I do, I always have to be hurt again!" He sniffed. "You always have to give me that Jenova...."
There was no sympathy in Hojo's eyes. "Cast the spell."
"No."
"Cast it."
"I won't do it."
"Cast it!"
"No!"
"Cast it, God damn you!"
Sephiroth turned violently towards him, making tears fly off his cheeks like pearls. "Why are you doing this?" Hojo reached out and grabbed him around the throat. He gasped as black roses began blooming in front of his eyes.
Miriam was sure he would just squeeze a bit harder and snap Sephiroth's neck. Instead, he drew him close and said with frightening composure, "Deus vult, Sephiroth. Because God wills it!"
She couldn't take it any longer. She burst from her hiding spot with her hands over her eyes, weeping furiously. The techs probably saw her as she dashed out the door, but she could have cared less. She had to get out of here, to run, to be anywhere else but this wretched place. Nothing good had ever come out of it. Flying over to the elevator, her feet barely touching the ground, she could hardly think. Her mind swam in a grey fog, a whirlpool not of words but raw emotion and incoherent phrases. Fear. Injustice. Hate. Pity. Ache. Ache. Ache.
Through the whirlpool she fell through the elevator doors. Her hand smacked a random button. She wanted to open her arms and scream
(not fair not fair stop hurting)
to the sky. But she didn't, she kept it in, kept it under control just like that other time, yes that other time where all action was futile and words meant nothing. The door opened.
Run. The word came back and she obeyed. Somewhere back on the 67th floor Sephiroth was crying. Fly away, fly away, nothing to fear, when an angel child cries, the whole world will hear. The world might hear, sure, but who says it might not just turn the other cheek and not listen? Miriam's lungs burned as she bolted down into an empty area. Without warning her legs turned to stone. That's it. She couldn't move anymore. Her legs disobeyed her mind's command and gave out. She fell against a wall, put her face into her arm, and cried.
I couldn't do anything, she thought. I was up there watching Sephiroth suffer and all I could do was run away. I'm worthless. This felt familiar though, a feeling that she had once before. It was the day Michael died, when she was on the phone with a Midgar policeman. When he told her what had happened, it was as if reality itself was suspended. She just stood there and dropped the phone on the floor. There wasn't even sadness at first, just a sense of utter bewilderment. Death? No. She thought maybe that if she called him on his cell or went do to where he worked, it would help. It slowly dawned on her that there was absolutely nothing she could do. She felt powerless, that every move she made was in futility.
As the swirling thoughts slowly settled, Miriam began to notice her surroundings. She was in some kind of waiting area, long but very tight. There was a bench on the left side and a water cooler on the right. A couple of water colors done by local artists hung on the walls. Most importantly, it was deserted. Her eyes focused on the patterns in the floral carpet. Now what? She had just left Sephiroth with Hojo like a coward. He's probably injecting him with more of that Jenova right now. The tears came again, hot and stinging. Damn it, why can't I ever do anything? She thought. Why can't I ever—
"Excuse me, are you okay?" came a low voice. Miriam froze and looked up slowly. Oh please, no. She recognized him instantly. He was tall, dressed in a dark blue suit with matching slacks. He was completely bald, but had a goatee on his chin and black shades on his eyes. Rude of the Turks, she thought. Is he here to kill me? Did they find out it was me who was in there already?
"I-I'm fine," she said, hastily wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Are you sure?" Rude said. "You were crying. If you want, you can tell me what's wrong."
She stood up straight. "No really, I'm alright. I was only resting. Now I really need to get moving or I'll be late for my meeting." The words just spilled from her mouth. She had no idea she could lie like that despite being so scared.
"It's best to talk about what's making you upset," he said unfazed. "Besides, you certainly don't look like you're going to a meeting." He glanced at her clothes.
"I told you already, nothing's wrong with me," she said. "You're making me late. Excuse me." She tried to slip by him, but his hand closed around her wrist. "Hey! Stop it!" She pulled against him but his grip was strong. With a sigh she gave up struggling. Against her will, her eyes watered again.
"Now why don't you tell me what's wrong? I hate to see a woman upset."
She gave a spiteful little laugh. "A sympathetic Turk? Now that's a new one." She looked back at him to see if this had any effect, but his face was inscrutable. "Please don't kill me," she said softly.
"I wasn't planning on it." Warm relief spread through her body. She exhaled shakily and collapsed onto the bench. Rude sat down next to her.
"Okay," said Miriam. "I'll tell you. Heaven knows I need a psychiatrist anyway. You probably know about this new project that the Science Department is working on, right?" He nodded. "I'm the caretaker of a boy named Sephiroth who's central to this project. I have only the slightest idea of what it's about, but...they use him as some kind of experiment for improving fighting abilities. They put some substance in his body called 'Jenova'. It hurts him, and I can't stand it. I don't know what to do. I don't think I can stop it." She was careful to leave out as much information as possible about the project, not wanting to tip him off about her recent escapades.
Rude leaned back with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hmm. Sorry to say, but you're dealing with a pretty difficult situation here. The President is dead set on having this thing completed. Maybe you should try to talk to the project head about this."
"Professor Hojo? I've already tried to reason with him when he comes to get Sephiroth. It doesn't work."
"What about getting him alone?" Rude said.
Miriam shook her head vigorously. "I can't! Just thinking of reasoning with that man gives me the chills. He'd probably kill me. Then what would Sephiroth do?"
"You're the wife of Michael Adler, right?" Rude said suddenly.
Miriam whirled to face him. "How did you—?"
"Know him?" he finished. "We met in the bar one day on the sixty-first floor." He smiled, a surprisingly humanizing gesture. "Nice guy. He told me all about you and his work. I actually ended up guarding the place where he worked a lot. Yeah. I was just thinking about the day he died."
"Stop. I don't want to hear about that," said Miriam.
Rude didn't stop. In fact, it looked like he was just getting started. "I was there on that day. I actually saw him about fifteen minutes before he jumped. I've never seen him look so disturbed. He was sweating and pacing like a mad man. I still remember what he was saying to himself—"
"Please, stop it."
"—'I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds'." He turned to Miriam. Through his sunglasses, she could feel his eyes boring into her. "Do you want to know why he killed himself?"
She wanted to say yes, but her mind said no. She had spent the last three years wondering the reason nearly every day, but knowing the truth now...it was like if you met a person who convinced you that they knew if there was a God or not. Given the chance, would she ask them? No. Probably not. Because even though there was a chance God existed, there was also an equal chance that the answer would be no. Better be on the safe side and not ask. The truth could drive you insane.
She weighed her options. Finally: "Yes."
"Michael Adler pioneered a new way to put Jenova cells into solution without destroying them," Rude said. "He wasn't sure what they would be used for, so he didn't question why he had to do it. That's when he was told what the Jenova Project was about. He heard what his work was going to be used for, and it drove him to the brink."
The information hit her, but it didn't quite actualize itself. Part of the Jenova Project? I had no idea. Then again, it wasn't any surprise that she didn't know. Michael had to take the same oath of confidentiality that all the other scientists took.
"That's why you need to talk to Hojo," said Rude.
"What does that have to do with him? He still won't listen. It's useless."
"Listen!" he said, putting his hands on hers. "Your husband knew that this was wrong. He knew it and killed himself because of it. You also know, but you can do something about it. Isn't that enough reason to try?"
Miriam glanced silently at one of the watercolors on the wall. "You're right," she said after a moment. "I shouldn't keep thinking like that. I'll try to reason with Professor Hojo." She got to her feet and the young Turk followed. "Th-thank you," she said.
"Hey, it's nothing," he said. "I already told you that I don't like seeing a woman upset. Good luck then." He turned on heel with a small wave and disappeared around the corner.
And that's how Miriam found herself on the 40th floor waiting outside the canteen for Hojo. She had asked the perky blond secretary down in the front office where she could find him. The secretary said that all Science Department employees were on their coffee breaks at this time and that she might be able to catch him in passing on the 40th floor before his meeting. Not wanting to miss this chance, Miriam hurried up without hesitation.
Talking with Rude had empowered her somehow. All of her previous fears were gone, at least for the moment. Books would probably say she was "in the zone" or something along those lines.
That was when she saw Hojo come around the corner waving to someone she couldn't see. She was struck by how normal he acted. It was almost impossible to believe that this person bidding farewell to a comrade was the same one who had nearly strangled his son only an hour before. That's him, believe it, Miriam. She stepped forward. "Professor Hojo."
He looked at her. "Hm? Miss Adler?" he said. "What are you doing up here?"
Her eyes flicked around the room, checking the surroundings. "Um, can I talk to you for a moment?"
Hojo raised an eyebrow. "If you make it fast," he answered. "I have an appointment in ten minutes. What's the problem?" Looking around again, she led him into an abandoned office without another word. Boxes filled with papers were piled all around the room on top of desks and tables, no doubt remnants of some long gone employee. The only light in the place came streaming in through the clouded glass set into the door. Through it people appeared as blurry black shadows.
"Professor," she said shutting the door and standing up straight. "I think you should stop this project. Whatever you're doing to your son...it's just wrong."
"Ah, so that's what this is about," he said. He laughed to himself a little. "You sound just like Gast. But you must realize that I couldn't stop this even if I wanted to." His eyes narrowed. "And I don't."
"It hurts him! You know it does," she persisted. "He spends almost half the week in bed because of you."
"He hasn't gotten used to the substance's power yet," said Hojo. "It hurts because it's foreign. His immune system has never seen anything like it. But believe me, in the end it will all be worth it."
"All be worth it?" said Miriam. She heard the edge in her voice, the hysteria rising like a black tide pounding against a dam. She willed herself not to let it crack. "Worth it to you maybe. Don't you see how he loves you? When he's sick he cries out for his father! He cries out your name! You make him cast magic and if he doesn't, you treat him like that—"
"So you were there," he said with dawning realization.
The room suddenly became stiflingly hot.
"Wh-what?" she stammered.
"The testing room," Hojo said. "Yes, I thought something was wrong when I saw the cabinet open. You're supposed to leave everything as you found it before you leave the room, but I passed it off as nothing. I remembered afterwards and checked there. That's where I found a keycard."
Time stopped. Miriam frantically retraced her steps. She used the keycard to get up to the 67th floor. There was no memory of it falling out of her pocket. Did she even put it away at all? Was she just holding it and somehow dropped it? Too many possible situations. It was all lost in a mist of memory.
"I don't know anything about that," she said, avoiding eye contact. The urge to cry was irresistible. Keep it under control.
"You shouldn't lie to me," Hojo said. His eyes had an air of satisfaction. "It doesn't matter if you saw, though. Nobody else in this building knows. If you try to tell, no one will believe you. It's useless." He turned to go.
The dam broke. "Wait!" Miriam cried. She ran towards him with her hands outstretched, tripped, grabbed onto the lapels of his coat, "Please..."she said, weeping into his chest, "Please...stop it. Just stop it." His black sweater was warm against her cheek.
Hojo's face remained unperturbed. "You're getting hysterical." Pulling away gently, he made for the door again, but she held fast.
She shook her head and a sob racked her body. "Please stop it. I'm begging you. Just stop it. Just stop it. Just—"
His hand flashed out as quickly as a snake. Her cheek stinging, Miriam reeled backwards. Her foot caught on one of the boxes and she fell over it, hitting her arm hard against the floor to break her fall.
Hojo lowered his hand to his side. Silhouetted against the door, he appeared twice the height as normal. What little light came into the room reflected off of his spectacles giving them an ethereal white glow. Behind them, his eyes burned with inner fire.
"For God's sake, control yourself, woman," he said. "You listen to me. I gave you a chance when I found out you were watching me behind my back. However, if you ever cross me again, you will be very, very sorry." Without a second look he stepped outside and slammed the door behind him.
Miriam took a long, shaking breath. I guess you really can't fight city hall, huh? She thought. She touched her cheek gingerly, wondering if her jaw was broken. Needless to say it hurt like hell. She moved her jaw. It seemed to work alright, albeit a bit creakily. Bruised, but not broken. But something told her he didn't put all his strength behind the blow. She took her hand off her face.
Her fingers came away red; blood was blossoming from the place where his wedding band had cut her.
A month passed. Hojo came more and more often to do God knows what to Sephiroth. He took him away healthy and brought him back sick. Sephiroth's birthday came and went. He spent it in bed.
And there Miriam was, in the middle of all of it.
She tried to protest whenever Hojo came by, but it was lost upon him. The only thing she could do was care for Sephiroth when he was in pain. Time seemed to lose its regularity. There was only the time when he was sick, when he was well, and the time she was alone. Whenever she tried to give him his chocobo doll, he would just gaze at it with fear in his eyes. Whenever she was in bed, she could hear him calling, calling for his father. Sometimes she would just sit at the counter and cry; sometimes Sephiroth did the same thing.
Today, he was already gone. Hojo had gotten him early. She tried to occupy herself by doing things around the apartment, but inevitably her mind would turn back to Sephiroth. It always did. As she was walking across the foyer with a basket of laundry in her arms, an envelope slipped through the mail slot on the door and fluttered to the ground. Blinking a few times to make sure she wasn't seeing things, she set the basket down and picked up the envelope. It was addressed simply to Miriam Adler, room B-38. Her pulse quickened as she slid a finger under the flap and ripped it open. Inside there was a keycard with a large number 70 on it. Stuck to the keycard was a yellow sticky note with a short message:
This is my card to the 67th floor. If you want the truth, it is waiting for
you there in testing room 105. Gast.
She had a feeling she knew what this was about. It had happened a month ago, the day of Sephiroth's magical aptitude test. There was a knock on the door and Miriam opened it to see an older man holding Sephiroth in his arms. She immediately recognized him as Professor Gast, head of the Science Department. So this is another one of the men responsible for this atrocity, she thought. Bastard. I'll never forgive them.
"Excuse me, Miss Adler," he said. "May I come in? I need to give Sephiroth a rest." His voice was thin and exhausted, like the last breezes of a dying storm. She turned her gaze away but stepped back from the door. "Can you show me where his room is?"
"End of the hall," she said listlessly. She scowled at him, daring to say something else, but her fury was quickly replaced by an odd sense of pity. She knew he couldn't be much older than forty, yet his face was wearied and worn, as if he had aged twenty years in the span of three. He walked slowly as he carried Sephiroth to his room. Actually, it wasn't much like a walk. It was more like a feeble shuffle, the type that you see in an old man that has arthritis in every joint and hardly any energy to climb a set of stairs. What's wrong with him? She thought as she followed him into Sephiroth's room. He was putting Sephiroth under the covers when she came in. His gentleness surprised her; he made sure to pull the covers up completely, and stroked Sephiroth's face with the back of his hand.
"Professor?" she said. All of the hostility had gone out of her voice.
He raised his head. There were tears glistening in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said.
"Sorry?" repeated Miriam. "For...?"
"Everything." Gast drew himself up to his full height. "I'm leaving this place. I can't bear to work on this project any longer."
"Just what is this project?" Miriam pressed. "What does it have to do with Sephiroth?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Why not?" she said with growing hysteria. "You're leaving aren't you? What does it matter if you tell me?"
"I'm bound by my contract with the Shin-Ra," he said. "There will be a lot of trouble if I break it."
"But—" He came over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders the way she did to Sephiroth. Her brandy eyes stared into his hazel ones.
"If anyone deserves to know, it's you," he said. "I'll find a way to show you what's going on. Consider that a promise." He let her go and traipsed out the door. She never saw him again.
Now looking at the card in her hand, she saw a realm of possibilities appear before her. They had only left five minutes ago. She could do it. She could sneak up to the testing room and stop them. There was still time. Putting the card in her pocket with a renewed resolve, she exited the apartment.
As Miriam walked through the corridors, she had an increasing feeling that everybody around was looking at her. It was the same feeling that a child would get when sneaking a midnight snack up to his room, knowing in the back of his mind that an adult would come up to him and ask him what he was doing, like they could somehow sense his secret. And that would be it. Busted. She tried to put on the confident stroll of a business woman going to a meeting just like every day, nothing strange here thank you, but she thought better of it. Just walk like you normally do. No one will notice.
Maybe so, but it sure felt like they would. She came to the end of the hall where it opened up into the plaza. The elevator was just across from where she stood. Crowds of people swarmed past, going about their daily business. Suddenly, she longed for the apartment again, to go back to bed and forget all about this, maybe catch up on a little reading before Sephiroth returned.
No, I can't go back now! she told herself. The plaza was a sea to be crossed, one where a shark could be lurking just beneath its placid surface. Sink or swim. Taking a deep breath, she strode into the sea. Her heart pounded. She would feel a tap on her shoulder and it would be a dark suited Turk standing there telling her that she needed to come with him. Or he could be the last thing she ever saw. The thought sent a tremor running through her.
She reached the elevator and scanned the area. There was just one person looking in her general direction, a man sitting on a bench. She looked at her watch, made an "oh-no-I-forgot-something" expression, and hurried onboard the elevator. When the doors closed, she leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. I feel like a spy, she thought wryly. She swiped the card in the slot and chose 67. The elevator rose rapidly in response.
There were much fewer people on the 67th floor, but Miriam made sure to stick to shadows. A woman in a blue skirt and blouse wearing a hair ribbon would no doubt draw some attention. She slid along the wall, her hands shaking more and more with each step. There were numerous doors in this area, and she counted them off as she went. 99...101...103...105. Getting on her toes, she cupped her hands around her eyes and peered through a little window set into the door. It was empty. Apparently the scientists were still setting up. A cold sweat broke out on her brow as she stepped inside. There was another window in the front wall, this one very large, and beneath it a control panel. It looked out onto a more spacious room devoid of any furnishings. Miriam guessed that's where Sephiroth did his magic, or whatever it was. Two desks were set along the back wall, above them some cabinets. A tall storage closet stood in the furthest corner.
Before she could do anything else, she heard voices approaching from outside the room. Her heart leapt with terrible chest constricting panic. Her legs were rooted to the floor, like in one of those dreams where you wanted to run but couldn't. Oh God, what did I get myself into? Thinking quickly she dashed into the small space beside the closet in the corner and pulled one of the doors open so that it concealed her. She put an eye up to a small opening. Hojo and a technician came in through the door. In the bigger room, another technician came in with (Miriam squeezed her fists shut) Sephiroth and began hooking him up to some equipment. His eyes had a vapid, glazed look.
"As soon as Henri's ready, we can begin the Fire test," said the technician. Hojo just nodded. "If he doesn't make it past a magic power of forty, I'm assuming that means he'll get more Jenova cells." Miriam's mind reeled. Jenova cells? The techie working outside gave a thumbs-up and came into the observation room.
"Okay. Ready whenever you are, professor," he said. Hojo reached to pick up the microphone, but stopped and looked back at where Miriam was hiding. She shrank back against the wall. Amazingly, she had to fight the insane urge to laugh out loud. That's when they made (or she thought they made) eye contact. His eyes were those of a man possessed, no humanity, no mercy. But they shone with brutal and clear sanity. He sees me, oh God he's angry, he's just going to come over here and kill me now. Sephiroth—
"Something wrong, professor?" asked the EEG techie.
To Miriam's immense relief, he turned around again. "It's nothing," he said. "Let's begin." He picked up the microphone. "Sephiroth, I want you to aim your magic at the target on the floor. Make it as powerful as you possibly can."
"No," Sephiroth said.
"What?" said Hojo in a deadly calm voice.
Sephiroth took a hitching breath and dropped the materia. "I won't do it."
Way to go, Sephiroth, thought Miriam.
Hojo set the microphone down without turning it off and went outside into the testing room. Picking up the materia, he knelt beside his son. "Sephiroth, take the materia," he said, his voice perfectly neutral.
"No." He looked down at the floor.
"Why not?"
Sephiroth looked up again, but this time tears were spilling from his eyes. "Because no matter how much I do, I always have to be hurt again!" He sniffed. "You always have to give me that Jenova...."
There was no sympathy in Hojo's eyes. "Cast the spell."
"No."
"Cast it."
"I won't do it."
"Cast it!"
"No!"
"Cast it, God damn you!"
Sephiroth turned violently towards him, making tears fly off his cheeks like pearls. "Why are you doing this?" Hojo reached out and grabbed him around the throat. He gasped as black roses began blooming in front of his eyes.
Miriam was sure he would just squeeze a bit harder and snap Sephiroth's neck. Instead, he drew him close and said with frightening composure, "Deus vult, Sephiroth. Because God wills it!"
She couldn't take it any longer. She burst from her hiding spot with her hands over her eyes, weeping furiously. The techs probably saw her as she dashed out the door, but she could have cared less. She had to get out of here, to run, to be anywhere else but this wretched place. Nothing good had ever come out of it. Flying over to the elevator, her feet barely touching the ground, she could hardly think. Her mind swam in a grey fog, a whirlpool not of words but raw emotion and incoherent phrases. Fear. Injustice. Hate. Pity. Ache. Ache. Ache.
Through the whirlpool she fell through the elevator doors. Her hand smacked a random button. She wanted to open her arms and scream
(not fair not fair stop hurting)
to the sky. But she didn't, she kept it in, kept it under control just like that other time, yes that other time where all action was futile and words meant nothing. The door opened.
Run. The word came back and she obeyed. Somewhere back on the 67th floor Sephiroth was crying. Fly away, fly away, nothing to fear, when an angel child cries, the whole world will hear. The world might hear, sure, but who says it might not just turn the other cheek and not listen? Miriam's lungs burned as she bolted down into an empty area. Without warning her legs turned to stone. That's it. She couldn't move anymore. Her legs disobeyed her mind's command and gave out. She fell against a wall, put her face into her arm, and cried.
I couldn't do anything, she thought. I was up there watching Sephiroth suffer and all I could do was run away. I'm worthless. This felt familiar though, a feeling that she had once before. It was the day Michael died, when she was on the phone with a Midgar policeman. When he told her what had happened, it was as if reality itself was suspended. She just stood there and dropped the phone on the floor. There wasn't even sadness at first, just a sense of utter bewilderment. Death? No. She thought maybe that if she called him on his cell or went do to where he worked, it would help. It slowly dawned on her that there was absolutely nothing she could do. She felt powerless, that every move she made was in futility.
As the swirling thoughts slowly settled, Miriam began to notice her surroundings. She was in some kind of waiting area, long but very tight. There was a bench on the left side and a water cooler on the right. A couple of water colors done by local artists hung on the walls. Most importantly, it was deserted. Her eyes focused on the patterns in the floral carpet. Now what? She had just left Sephiroth with Hojo like a coward. He's probably injecting him with more of that Jenova right now. The tears came again, hot and stinging. Damn it, why can't I ever do anything? She thought. Why can't I ever—
"Excuse me, are you okay?" came a low voice. Miriam froze and looked up slowly. Oh please, no. She recognized him instantly. He was tall, dressed in a dark blue suit with matching slacks. He was completely bald, but had a goatee on his chin and black shades on his eyes. Rude of the Turks, she thought. Is he here to kill me? Did they find out it was me who was in there already?
"I-I'm fine," she said, hastily wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Are you sure?" Rude said. "You were crying. If you want, you can tell me what's wrong."
She stood up straight. "No really, I'm alright. I was only resting. Now I really need to get moving or I'll be late for my meeting." The words just spilled from her mouth. She had no idea she could lie like that despite being so scared.
"It's best to talk about what's making you upset," he said unfazed. "Besides, you certainly don't look like you're going to a meeting." He glanced at her clothes.
"I told you already, nothing's wrong with me," she said. "You're making me late. Excuse me." She tried to slip by him, but his hand closed around her wrist. "Hey! Stop it!" She pulled against him but his grip was strong. With a sigh she gave up struggling. Against her will, her eyes watered again.
"Now why don't you tell me what's wrong? I hate to see a woman upset."
She gave a spiteful little laugh. "A sympathetic Turk? Now that's a new one." She looked back at him to see if this had any effect, but his face was inscrutable. "Please don't kill me," she said softly.
"I wasn't planning on it." Warm relief spread through her body. She exhaled shakily and collapsed onto the bench. Rude sat down next to her.
"Okay," said Miriam. "I'll tell you. Heaven knows I need a psychiatrist anyway. You probably know about this new project that the Science Department is working on, right?" He nodded. "I'm the caretaker of a boy named Sephiroth who's central to this project. I have only the slightest idea of what it's about, but...they use him as some kind of experiment for improving fighting abilities. They put some substance in his body called 'Jenova'. It hurts him, and I can't stand it. I don't know what to do. I don't think I can stop it." She was careful to leave out as much information as possible about the project, not wanting to tip him off about her recent escapades.
Rude leaned back with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hmm. Sorry to say, but you're dealing with a pretty difficult situation here. The President is dead set on having this thing completed. Maybe you should try to talk to the project head about this."
"Professor Hojo? I've already tried to reason with him when he comes to get Sephiroth. It doesn't work."
"What about getting him alone?" Rude said.
Miriam shook her head vigorously. "I can't! Just thinking of reasoning with that man gives me the chills. He'd probably kill me. Then what would Sephiroth do?"
"You're the wife of Michael Adler, right?" Rude said suddenly.
Miriam whirled to face him. "How did you—?"
"Know him?" he finished. "We met in the bar one day on the sixty-first floor." He smiled, a surprisingly humanizing gesture. "Nice guy. He told me all about you and his work. I actually ended up guarding the place where he worked a lot. Yeah. I was just thinking about the day he died."
"Stop. I don't want to hear about that," said Miriam.
Rude didn't stop. In fact, it looked like he was just getting started. "I was there on that day. I actually saw him about fifteen minutes before he jumped. I've never seen him look so disturbed. He was sweating and pacing like a mad man. I still remember what he was saying to himself—"
"Please, stop it."
"—'I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds'." He turned to Miriam. Through his sunglasses, she could feel his eyes boring into her. "Do you want to know why he killed himself?"
She wanted to say yes, but her mind said no. She had spent the last three years wondering the reason nearly every day, but knowing the truth now...it was like if you met a person who convinced you that they knew if there was a God or not. Given the chance, would she ask them? No. Probably not. Because even though there was a chance God existed, there was also an equal chance that the answer would be no. Better be on the safe side and not ask. The truth could drive you insane.
She weighed her options. Finally: "Yes."
"Michael Adler pioneered a new way to put Jenova cells into solution without destroying them," Rude said. "He wasn't sure what they would be used for, so he didn't question why he had to do it. That's when he was told what the Jenova Project was about. He heard what his work was going to be used for, and it drove him to the brink."
The information hit her, but it didn't quite actualize itself. Part of the Jenova Project? I had no idea. Then again, it wasn't any surprise that she didn't know. Michael had to take the same oath of confidentiality that all the other scientists took.
"That's why you need to talk to Hojo," said Rude.
"What does that have to do with him? He still won't listen. It's useless."
"Listen!" he said, putting his hands on hers. "Your husband knew that this was wrong. He knew it and killed himself because of it. You also know, but you can do something about it. Isn't that enough reason to try?"
Miriam glanced silently at one of the watercolors on the wall. "You're right," she said after a moment. "I shouldn't keep thinking like that. I'll try to reason with Professor Hojo." She got to her feet and the young Turk followed. "Th-thank you," she said.
"Hey, it's nothing," he said. "I already told you that I don't like seeing a woman upset. Good luck then." He turned on heel with a small wave and disappeared around the corner.
And that's how Miriam found herself on the 40th floor waiting outside the canteen for Hojo. She had asked the perky blond secretary down in the front office where she could find him. The secretary said that all Science Department employees were on their coffee breaks at this time and that she might be able to catch him in passing on the 40th floor before his meeting. Not wanting to miss this chance, Miriam hurried up without hesitation.
Talking with Rude had empowered her somehow. All of her previous fears were gone, at least for the moment. Books would probably say she was "in the zone" or something along those lines.
That was when she saw Hojo come around the corner waving to someone she couldn't see. She was struck by how normal he acted. It was almost impossible to believe that this person bidding farewell to a comrade was the same one who had nearly strangled his son only an hour before. That's him, believe it, Miriam. She stepped forward. "Professor Hojo."
He looked at her. "Hm? Miss Adler?" he said. "What are you doing up here?"
Her eyes flicked around the room, checking the surroundings. "Um, can I talk to you for a moment?"
Hojo raised an eyebrow. "If you make it fast," he answered. "I have an appointment in ten minutes. What's the problem?" Looking around again, she led him into an abandoned office without another word. Boxes filled with papers were piled all around the room on top of desks and tables, no doubt remnants of some long gone employee. The only light in the place came streaming in through the clouded glass set into the door. Through it people appeared as blurry black shadows.
"Professor," she said shutting the door and standing up straight. "I think you should stop this project. Whatever you're doing to your son...it's just wrong."
"Ah, so that's what this is about," he said. He laughed to himself a little. "You sound just like Gast. But you must realize that I couldn't stop this even if I wanted to." His eyes narrowed. "And I don't."
"It hurts him! You know it does," she persisted. "He spends almost half the week in bed because of you."
"He hasn't gotten used to the substance's power yet," said Hojo. "It hurts because it's foreign. His immune system has never seen anything like it. But believe me, in the end it will all be worth it."
"All be worth it?" said Miriam. She heard the edge in her voice, the hysteria rising like a black tide pounding against a dam. She willed herself not to let it crack. "Worth it to you maybe. Don't you see how he loves you? When he's sick he cries out for his father! He cries out your name! You make him cast magic and if he doesn't, you treat him like that—"
"So you were there," he said with dawning realization.
The room suddenly became stiflingly hot.
"Wh-what?" she stammered.
"The testing room," Hojo said. "Yes, I thought something was wrong when I saw the cabinet open. You're supposed to leave everything as you found it before you leave the room, but I passed it off as nothing. I remembered afterwards and checked there. That's where I found a keycard."
Time stopped. Miriam frantically retraced her steps. She used the keycard to get up to the 67th floor. There was no memory of it falling out of her pocket. Did she even put it away at all? Was she just holding it and somehow dropped it? Too many possible situations. It was all lost in a mist of memory.
"I don't know anything about that," she said, avoiding eye contact. The urge to cry was irresistible. Keep it under control.
"You shouldn't lie to me," Hojo said. His eyes had an air of satisfaction. "It doesn't matter if you saw, though. Nobody else in this building knows. If you try to tell, no one will believe you. It's useless." He turned to go.
The dam broke. "Wait!" Miriam cried. She ran towards him with her hands outstretched, tripped, grabbed onto the lapels of his coat, "Please..."she said, weeping into his chest, "Please...stop it. Just stop it." His black sweater was warm against her cheek.
Hojo's face remained unperturbed. "You're getting hysterical." Pulling away gently, he made for the door again, but she held fast.
She shook her head and a sob racked her body. "Please stop it. I'm begging you. Just stop it. Just stop it. Just—"
His hand flashed out as quickly as a snake. Her cheek stinging, Miriam reeled backwards. Her foot caught on one of the boxes and she fell over it, hitting her arm hard against the floor to break her fall.
Hojo lowered his hand to his side. Silhouetted against the door, he appeared twice the height as normal. What little light came into the room reflected off of his spectacles giving them an ethereal white glow. Behind them, his eyes burned with inner fire.
"For God's sake, control yourself, woman," he said. "You listen to me. I gave you a chance when I found out you were watching me behind my back. However, if you ever cross me again, you will be very, very sorry." Without a second look he stepped outside and slammed the door behind him.
Miriam took a long, shaking breath. I guess you really can't fight city hall, huh? She thought. She touched her cheek gingerly, wondering if her jaw was broken. Needless to say it hurt like hell. She moved her jaw. It seemed to work alright, albeit a bit creakily. Bruised, but not broken. But something told her he didn't put all his strength behind the blow. She took her hand off her face.
Her fingers came away red; blood was blossoming from the place where his wedding band had cut her.