Crossovers Which Must (Not) Happen

Chapter 3: I Am (Not) a Number

Disclaimer: The Prisoner belongs to ITV. Neon Genesis Evangelion remains under the control of Studio Khara. As for me, I am a free person. Where's that evil laughter coming from?

In Tokyo-3, 2015, a sullen-faced fourteen-year-old boy enters a military commander's office, submits his resignation along with his pass card, and walks out. The commander stamps an "X" on the boy's card and returns to his favourite pastime of tenting his fingers and looking ominous.

The boy's now-former commanding officer and guardian has been awaiting him in the hall. He bids her a curt good-bye. She offers neither a hug nor her hand to shake, as she senses neither would be welcome. Once he's out of earshot, she makes a quick phone call, then goes to pick up her remaining ward and her penguin and take them to the hotel where the three of them will spend the next four days.

After hailing a taxi, the boy makes his way back to his apartment to pack, intending to take the next train out of town once he's done. He's unaware that a hearse is following closely behind. One short cab ride later, the boy enters the apartment building and takes the elevator to the eleventh floor. Two minutes later, the hearse driver does the same thing.

Once inside the unit, the boy heads one last time for his "Lovely Suite," as his guardian had labelled his tiny bedroom. He doesn't make it: white gas billows through the keyhole, knocking him out.

When he wakes up, he seems at first to be in his Tokyo-3 apartment, but quickly realizes it's just a mock-up. His first clue is the view from the window, revealing that he's on the ground floor. The next hint appears when he ventures outside, through a front door which opens automatically, and sees the Italianate architecture of the surrounding buildings, and the Carnaby Street "mod" clothing on passers-by. He is, of course, completely unfamiliar with either phenomenon, and thus does what comes most naturally to him: he screams and bolts back inside.

This is just a bad dream, he thinks, clutching his head. Just a stress dream. Soon I'll wake up in my teacher's house and then I can go back to my old, reassuringly dull existence.

A desk phone rings. He screams again. Then he collects himself and answers it. A woman's voice tells him, "Number Oh-Two wishes to see you in the Green Dome at your earliest convenience," then hangs up.

The boy blinks twice, then shrugs and replaces the receiver. Number Oh-Two in the Green Dome, huh? Well, if nothing else, maybe they'll tell me where I am and why I'm here.

On the way back outside, before going through the automated door, he passes by a mirror and finds that, instead of his school uniform, he's now clad in a double-breasted black blazer with white piping, over a navy blue pullover, khaki slacks, and blue tennis shoes. He wonders whether he's been invited to some sort of yacht party.

He hasn't. Upon reaching the Green Dome by trolley, he encounters a little person, serving as a butler, who escorts him into a dark room. A hologram of a monolith, bearing the label "02," appears in the centre of the room.

"Welcome, Number Nothing," says an affable male voice apparently representing the hologram. "It's good to meet you."

"Number Nothing? What is this? My name is-"

"No. Here there are no names. Only numbers. I am Number Oh-Two."

The boy tilts his head. "Who's Number Oh-One?"

"You are Number Nothing."

"Hang on. You mean, 'You are,' comma, 'Number Nothing?' As in, I'm the one actually in charge here? In charge of my fate, my very life?"

Number Oh-Two chuckles. "Don't get existentialist on me, kiddo. I mean exactly what I said, with neither emphasis nor commas. 'Number Nothing' is simply your designation here."

Number Nothing grimaces. "I see. And where is 'here?'"

"You are in the Village."

"The Village? Which village?"

"The one on the Island," says Number Oh-Two.

"There are 6,852 islands in Japan. Could you be more specific?"

"I didn't say this was Japan."

"What!" Number Nothing pounds the counter in front of him. "I'm a Japanese citizen. You can't just yank me out of the country to God knows-"

"I didn't say this wasn't Japan, either."

"Arrrrgh!" Number Nothing clutches his forehead. "Look, could you at least tell me why I'm here?"

"Of course, dear boy. We want information. Information. Information."

Number Nothing's eyes narrow. "What sort of information?"

"We need to know why you resigned."

"Oh, is that all? I resigned because my rotten father seized control of my EVA from me, while I was still inside it and conscious, and made it beat my friend nearly to death, instead of finding some other way to contain the Angel which had taken his EVA over."

"We need to know why you resigned."

"I just told you. My father robbed me of my agency and used my EVA to nearly kill my friend."

"We need. To know. Why. You. Resigned," says Number Oh-Two.

Number Nothing clenches and unclenches his fists. "Do you think that by asking the same question over and over, you'll get a different answer?"

"We want the truth. And by hook or by crook, we will get it."

"But it is the-!"

A buzzer sounds. "Oops. That's all for today, I'm afraid. It seems I'm being replaced as Number Oh-Two. The new Oh-Two will interrogate you further. Until then, you have the run of the Village and may come and go within it as you please. But don't try to escape."

"And if I do?" says Number Nothing through gritted teeth.

A slide appears on the wall to the monolith's right. It depicts a floating sphere with a black-and-white colour pattern.

"Then Roveliel here will scoop you up into its Dirac Sea dimension and deposit you back in the Village. It is, I'm told, an experience fraught with unpleasant, vaguely Freudian psychoanalytical hallucinations. Anyway, it's tea time. Be seeing you." The hologram vanishes and the lights go on.

"This crossover doesn't make any sense," said Misato, as Makoto paused in his reading of Shinji's proposal and took a few sips from his water bottle. "Well, apart from the bits he obviously based on the thankfully-former Commander." She shook her head. "I could picture that bastard gassing his own son."

Kaji nodded. "In Shinji's defense, I should point out that the original TV series doesn't make sense either."

Ritsuko raised an eyebrow. "That says something, considering your line of work."

"Well, apart from spy shows not being much like real intelligence work, The Prisoner isn't even a spy show, really. It's more of a spy / SF / mystery / miscellaneous 'Screw you, brain' amalgam."

"Maybe, especially given the era it was made, it's best watched on LSD," said Makoto to chuckles from the others.

"Ooh!" said Misato. "Can we drop some acid before reading any more of this proposal? Maybe it'll make more-"

"No, Sub-Commander," said Kouzo, resisting the urge to crush and snort some ibuprofen tablets. "Hyuga, please continue."

Misato sulked. "I was just kidding," she said in an undertone. "Mostly."

[Fifteen episodes later]

In the Green Dome, the twelve-member Village Council convenes. As always, they interact via their monolith holograms, each displaying a number and the words "Sound Only."

"Gentlemen," says Number Oh-Three. "Here is my report on the status of Number Nothing's interrogation process. Simply put, it's been an epic failure. He's consistently refused to give us anything but that obviously concocted story about his papa taking control of his EVA from him. We've gone through no fewer than 156 Number Oh-Twos - anywhere from one to five in a single day - and he's defeated them all. Eight of them have gone permanently insane. Five have requested medical leave. One was... an outlier, actually. He turned out to be Mike Myers, desperately trying to revive his Austin Powers characters."

Number Oh-Three clears his throat. "The rest of them? Depending on their skills and overall aptitude, we've either reassigned them to other departments or repurposed them as Roveliel snacks."

"Question," says Number Oh-Five. "How has Number Nothing managed to resist so many attempts to break him?"

"It varies. Sometimes through simple luck. Occasionally through an unexpected flash of cleverness. But mostly through sheer, unmitigated, mule-headed stubbornness."

"Have any of our non-interrogator agents made a difference?" asks Number Oh-Eight.

"Not a one. Not even our sexiest teenage agents, male or female, have managed to elicit anything from him but nosebleeds, fainting or cries of 'I need an adult!' The saddest case was when he drove Number Thirty-Four - Mana 'Hari' Kirishima - to seek sanctuary in a Catholic convent and take holy orders."

"Is there nothing to be done at all?" asks Number Eleven. "Should we proceed straight to Tangification?"

"No. Number One says that's a last resort. Instead, he wishes us to use the Destrudo Absolute brainwashing protocol. For that purpose, we welcome back our sole returning Number Oh-Two. You are to administer the technique to Number Nothing, who awaits you in the usual room. Go! And do be careful: Destrudo Absolute is nearly as dangerous for the interrogator as it is for the interrogated."

"Thank you, Number Three," says the returnee. "I'll give it my all. Be seeing you."

"Destrudo, huh?" said Ritsuko. "At least we know Shinji's been paying attention during the sync tests. Although he may just have recalled the term without knowing what it means."

"Now that you mention it," said Misato, "what does 'destrudo' mean, anyway?"

"Isn't that a Puerto Rican boy band with constantly rotating members?" said Kaji. "No wait, that's Menudo."

"Very funny," said the chief scientist. "The term is derived from Freudian psychology, where it signifies-"

"Ooh! Licensed merch idea!" said Misato, who'd consumed one can of coffee too many. "NERV-brand Tang-flavoured vodka." She drew a straight line in the air as though laying out ad copy. "Absolut Destrud- Yipes!" She narrowly dodged the spiral-bound notebook Ritsuko threw at her.

"Do you comedians want to know what 'destrudo' means or not?" said Akagi.

Commander Fuyutsuki stood up and leaned forward, assuming his rare but powerful I Am Done Taking Your Bullshit stance. "What I want is to finish this meeting in time to grab dinner, change into my evening clothes and catch the Tokyo-2 premiere of The Wiz with an all-Japanese cast. I'll be most displeased if I'm late, so I'd appreciate it if you'd all kindly zip it. Except for Major Hyuga, who will continue reading."

"So," says Number Oh-Two, a stocky, elegantly-bearded Australian man. "We meet again, Number Nothing. As you've left us no choice, I shall break down your mental defenses and then have you relive formative events in your life."

Number Nothing, hands folded on the table they are both seated at, smiles. "Knock yourself out."

Number Oh-Two returns the smile. "First off, I'd like to Where is your dream?"

The boy flinches at this outburst, then relaxes and says, "It's a continuation of reality."

The interrogator nods. "Impressive. Most impressive Where is your reality?"

"It's at the end of my dream."

"Then what is your heart for?"

Without missing a beat, Number Nothing says, "Then why are you here?"

"Is it okay for me to be here?"

The boy remains silent, and the interrogator screams in existential agony, then keels over, quite dead.

A slow clap comes from the back of the room. Number Nothing turns and sees the butler.

"Congratulations," the servant says. "You are the new Number Oh-Two. What are your instructions, sir?"

The boy ponders this for a moment. "I'd like to meet Number Oh-One."

"Very good, sir. This way, please."

The butler leads him to a cavernous chamber, inside of which is a large metal cylinder outfitted with what, to the boy, alternately looks like a mechanical eye, a phallic symbol, a yonic symbol, and a raised middle finger. Above this rapid-fire, repeating sequence of images there is engraved the number "01."

"Go on, sir," says the butler, opening the cylinder's door.

The lad climbs a spiral staircase. On the walls to his left and right he spots tanks of naked, giggling Number Oh-Two clones. He shudders and continues upward.

At last he comes to a door with the following sign:

THIS IT IT

NUMBER OH-ONE

NO FOOLING THIS TIME

He shrugs, opens the door and finds, standing among a number of mannequins, a masked, robed figure. He pulls off the figure's mask, revealing another mask looking suspiciously like his ex-guardian's penguin. He pulls that off in turn and reveals what appears to be his own double.

He says his own name in an incredulous tone, then screams.

One by one, the mannequins take on his appearance as well.

His mouth twitches upward in a mockery of a half-smile as what's left of his sanity flies away. Then his body turns to liquid and he knows nothing more...

... Until he wakes up in a bed he'd nearly despaired of seeing ever again. My old bedroom. In my teacher's house. I'm.. I'm home, after all. Was it all a dream? Or the continuation of my reality, or-?

He shakes his head and chuckles. Nope, no more of that. He's a free man, now.

He showers, dresses in his school uniform, cooks himself a hearty breakfast, and eats it. Then he heads for the front door, which opens automatically...

"And that's the end, apparently," said Makoto, closing the binder.

Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Kouzo recalled he had someplace to be, and said, "Your thoughts, everyone?"

Misato sighed. "Other than 'Must talk Shinji into getting more therapy,' you mean? Well, it's... I don't know. I could see SF geeks and miscellaneous intellectuals getting into it. But will it make money? Is it merchandisable?" She waved her hands. "And no, I'm not talking about vodka this time. It's just-"

Kaji smiled and nodded. "You can't see a market for creepy Shinji-esque mannequins and giggling Number Oh-Twos."

"Exactly! That's it," said Misato.

Ritsuko leaned forward. "Okay, so it's not exactly the sort of blockbuster branding opportunity that'll make the UN's bean counters happy. That said, I think our Third Child, with the right sort of nurturing, has the makings of the next Philip K. Dick."

"Who?" said the others.

The chief scientist shook her head. "You people need to read more. PKD, as us fans call him to avoid snickering over the name Dick - thank you Misato for demonstrating - was an American SF writer some decades before Second Impact. His specialty was pretty much the sort of 'don't mind me, I'm just taking your mind for a spin' subject matter we see in Shinji's crossover. I think Misato, and those of his teachers who aren't on autopilot, should encourage his writing and see where it takes him."

"I agree," said Kouzo. "But back to the business at hand: I gather this isn't the sort of thing I should pitch to Goldstein. Raise your hand if you agree... Huh, another unanimous vote. For all the schoolyard bickering we sometimes descend into, I guess we make a good team." Everyone chuckled. "Let's call it a day, then. Tomorrow we'll review... one moment.. Touji Suzahara's submission: the adventures of NERV, American Saturday-morning cartoon style."

A/N: This was a tough chapter to write. That's appropriate, though; The Prisoner is often a tough show to watch. But don't let that discourage you from getting into it, if you've never seen it before. Like Evangelion, it explores fundamental philosophical issues such as the nature of reality and individual identity. Also, like the original Evangelion series, its final episode confounded and even angered viewers who were expecting a definitive resolution to the plot.

In The Prisoner's case, however, that wasn't because the creative team had run out of time and money. Rather, it was a deliberate decision from the start. The show's co-creator Patrick McGoohan (who also played the lead role of Number Six) freely admitted that he wanted the finale to confuse and frustrate people. Cheeky sod. :-)

Thank you, as always, for reading and reviewing, and best wishes for a Happy and Healthy New Year. Be seeing you.