AN: I'm so sorry it took me so long to get back to this! I really hope you guys are well and that you're enjoying Summer!
Yeah, this took a lot longer than I thought it would. So, after finals and performances and work and writing and all of that, it ended up being over two weeks since the last update. Sorry, but I don't think I'll be able to keep up with the one chapter per week thing like I thought I would. I hope you can be patient with me! Thank you! So, without any further ado, I present to you the final chapter in Gaster's backstory!
Chapter 7
Part 3: Simon Says
This is Dr. W.D. Gaster. Entry: 18-249-B
It has been more than ten years since the last time I saw another Skeleton. When Comic Sans Serif appeared, I was taken aback to say the least. And I admit, it has been a bit of a challenge to adjust to living with anyone again let alone another Skeleton. This is something to which, even months later, I have been struggling to adjust.
Sans, however, seems to be adjusting to life in the lab quite splendidly. I believe he is more grateful that he no longer has to search for shelter every night. In those first few days, he seemed a bit apprehensive about speaking to me with the exception of his knack for creating absolutely terrible puns. I suspect this is his own personal way of handling awkward situations. Perhaps he may have even been intimidated by my presence. He does seem to prefer to keep to himself most of the time and only steps out of his room for work or for food. In his first few days, I left him to his own devices as Sans hardly seems the destructive type. I thought that letting him explore his new home could prove beneficial to him. After a week or so, he was comfortable enough with his surroundings that he was able to walk around freely and without hesitating around every corner.
Not long afterward, I decided to start him at work. My goal was not to give him anything too difficult or confidential. Just filing the results of past projects and organizing my findings. He quickly developed a system that allows for each experiment to be recalled at a moment's notice by subject, type, attempt and result. He merged his system with one I already utilize, found a way to somehow make it more efficient, and ensured that future experiments can be easily filed. He is a very clever boy.
In no time, he seemed bored with the lack of stimuli. With his busy-work completed, he needed something else to challenge his mind. I, however, am not his babysitter. It is not my job to make sure he remains entertained. I decided to leave him be just to see what he would choose to do with his free time. What he decided was shocking, but eye-opening all the same.
During one of my sweeps of the complex, I found him holed up in a corner, surrounded by papers, boxes and files. It seemed to be a complete disaster and when I looked, I found several pages of my research notes with bright red wax pencil markings marring the surface and scribbling out the discoveries that were written there!
"Mr. Serif!" I addressed him, perhaps a little more sternly than I had intended, "What in the world do you think you're doing!?"
The boy seemed to start when he heard my voice, his eyes, which had been glowing a bright blue faded and a box he had been trying to move toppled, spilling more paperwork and experiment files about.
"Oh! Dr . . . Dr. Gaster!" He stammered, "Um . . . h-hello. You see, I was going through this set of experiments, when I noticed something a little . . . um . . . off. I don't know if you noticed, but the last notes on C-4275, C-83172, and P-78468 all used the same magnesium compound. Well, each of those experiments ended . . . less than pleasantly?"
"They exploded. You can say it." I couldn't help the wry grin at Sans' discomfort while we discussed my past follies. Those experiments were early on in my career when I was still trying to find a light source that didn't require a constant supply of power. The objective had been to create an artificial sun that could light up all areas of the Underground and I had decided to use Magnesium as a base. Magnesium burns a brilliant purple for a period of time when it is exposed to the right conditions. When it interacts with any liquid compound, however, it reacts violently and sets off an explosion. Since the flames could not be extinguished with water. It was difficult to contain and they had to be smothered in order to be extinguished.
Those early experiments failed miserably and Nyala never let me hear the end of it. Bringing the projects home to Waterfall, admittedly, was not the smartest course of action for those particular experiments. I nearly took our entire house down. Thank goodness it was before Corbel was born, otherwise Nyala's wrath would have been tenfold.
Damn it, Gaster! Damn it, Damn it! We've been over this! Just because Sans has a way of stirring up the past, whether it be because he's one of the few other Skeletons you've met, or because he says something that triggers your memory, does NOT give you reason to reminisce- especially on a life you abandoned the moment it got a bit too complicated for you to handle. Damn it, Gaster, you've been running from this for too long! Time to stop and face reality!
. . .
. . .
Damn it . . . not again . . .
Every so often . . . ever since my family was . . . Ever since those days, when I have had a moment of weakness, or of nostalgia, or of inner turmoil, a voice has come to greet me. I've come to know it simply as the nagging voice in the back of my mind, or N.V.
N.V. is usually there to offer harsh criticisms and condescending thoughts, keeping me focused on the task at hand. At times, N.V. is little more than a heckling audience. But I have slowly become accustomed to its interruptions and I have even come to expect them. N.V. is part of me now, no matter how I try to deny it or push it away, or choke it out. It is always right there, like an internal rival or a looming shadow.
At the moment, however, it is distracting me from my entry. Let me see, I was talking about the magnesium experiments . . .
"Well, yeah, it exploded!" Sans chuckled thoughtfully, as he looked at another sheet of paper he'd marked in red, "Three times! But this fourth attempt, when you used it in a completely different experiment, you sealed it off in carbon dioxide which seemed to contain the explosion and minimize the effects of the magnesium. Obviously, the addition of the carbon made the reaction less volatile, but I wonder if there's even a way to incorporate more carbon into the compound itself and make it safe enough for the average monster."
My smile spread. There was just something in the enthusiasm behind Sans' voice that really struck a familiar chord with me. Maybe it was listening as he threw all caution and self doubt to the wind or maybe it was watching as his eyes lit up when he started listing off his theories. It was refreshing. It was something I'd never experienced in this place before and something that I hadn't even realized had been missing from it. Sans offered an opportunity that even the most oblivious monster would think idiotic to pass: comradery, insight, and a second pair of eyes.
But first, I would have to test him.
" . . . and if we were to develop a sort of magnesium carbonate polymer that could still be flammable enough to sustain longer and brighter than wax and wicker, but not volatile enough to explode at the first trace of water . . . I think the key is in the ratio between the magnesium and the carbon. And I wonder if there's anything else we can use to—"
"Mr. Serif." I interjected, "Are you proposing an experiment of your own?"
Sans had gone quiet after that, thinking it over and perhaps a bit concerned that he had overstepped his boundaries. His enthusiasm fell as he started to look back over the papers scattered around him. Silently, he stooped over to pick them up and sort them again, being sure to read the results and observations regarding each experiment. Or at least as much as he could, considering he was unable to read the wingdings.
"You see," I continued, trying to bring back that spark in the air that had him so excited, "I had deemed those projects failures. If there's anything you can think of that could help turn that conclusion around, by all means, I would be more than happy to hear your thoughts . . . maybe we could test your theories."
Sans hesitated again. "Oh, geez. I dunno, Dr. Gaster." He muttered as he continued to sort, "I mean, you're the Royal Scientist for a reason, right? You must be some special kind of genius to land a gig like that. And if you couldn't figure it out—"
"I did not have the benefit of a second pair of eyes, nor did I have a second set of gears working toward the same goal. What do you say, Sans? Would you care to try your hand at proving me wrong?"
Sans' eye sockets widened. Perhaps he was excited that I was giving him the opportunity to set up and execute his own experiment, essentially, giving him full access to the lab . . . or perhaps it was merely due to the fact that I had never before addressed him as 'Sans'. He did seem to relax a bit after that as he nodded his acceptance.
Please refer to my log regarding P-78469 for the results of Sans' experiment.
That day, I offered Sans a position as my personal assistant. From then on, he has been working side by side with me and assisting me with my research. His talents were being wasted as an office assistant and in all honesty, I needed the help.
Sans smiled as he shook my hand. It was the third of its kind.
This is Dr. W.D. Gaster. Entry: 19-363-A
I must say that the addition of other scientific minds has greatly improved the workflow here in the lab. What used to take me months to accomplish can now be proposed, approved, tested, documented and filed within one week. Every day, I am amazed by how much this team has been able to accomplish in just one short year.
Not only that, but now I've had more time to dedicate to the projects King Asgore has requested of me as well as my more . . . personal projects.
By now, it is no secret that I have been charged with the duty of finding a way to destroy the magical barrier that seals every monster below the surface. Development on that front has been far less than spectacular and I have run into several setbacks to the point that any progress has been stunted. Because of the delicate nature of this endeavor, I cannot rely on my team or on my assistant for outside aid or suggestions. And considering where this particular path may lead me, I rather prefer it that way.
The main issue, put bluntly, is that I lack the supplies I need to continue my research and without a single human's soul, there is no way of knowing if any of my experiments have even come close to replicating the phenomenon.
In the meantime, I have set my sights beyond the breaking of the barrier. While many others tend to fantasize about a peaceful and wonderful life once the barrier is broken, I know better of the disease known as the human condition. Humans are destructive by nature. They are prone to violence and tend to resort to their primal tendencies when they "feel threatened." The problem with this philosophy is that humans seem to almost always feel threatened by anything that isn't within their own skins. Often, they will even wage wars against each other for something as petty as the different colors of that skin. If the humans are unable to accept the differences within their own species, how can we possibly expect them to accept us?
The short answer: we couldn't possibly.
While there is no cure for this affliction, we can at least be prepared for what may happen when we are freed from our prison. Sans and I have begun to develop a new armor that can be worn by every monster if / when we are released. The aim is for it to be stronger and more durable than the armor the Royal Guard currently uses while simultaneously being less bulky and lighter in weight in order to be somewhat comfortable for the average monster.
The idea is for it to function as a sort of exoskeleton, so with that idea in mind, we have been trying to replicate bone and strengthen that replication to be even stronger and less likely to fracture.
Using calcified sand granules as inspiration, we began the process. We studied how pearls were made and attempted to replicate that process with various objects in the lab from paper and pens to clothing Sans even offered his shoe as well as a section of his chair. We studied the length of time for calcification to occur as well as the density of the shell produced.
. . . Or the potential shell. In the early experiments, the layers upon layers of the calcium bicarbonate compound we applied never solidified to anything more than a thick creamy pudding-like substance. Sans' shoes were ruined to the point he had to walk around the lab in a pair of slippers for a while and his chair was beyond repair as well.
It was frustrating to say the least. Not to mention I'd run into a similar problem in one of my other Asgore-related projects. Again, I was unable to confide in Sans about my other projects, but if we could figure out how to successfully create this exoskeleton armor, I will be able to continue my other project.
I like to think of it as delegating without disclosing any confidential information.
"Ugh. I just don't get it!" Sans groaned, balling up another sheet of paper and tossing it in the general direction of the trash bin. "Maybe there's something wrong with the objects we chose! Remind me next time just to use my shoe laces okay?"
"You have my word, Sans." I responded in a disgruntled tone to mirror his, "Though, I would strongly suggest you refrain from subjecting any more of your personal belongings to experiments such as these."
"Eh, you've got a point."
Sans' brow furrowed as he glared at the chair, which, by now, was saturated in the creamy mess. "Maybe it's not the objects at all . . . The substance doesn't solidify no matter what we put it on . . . temperature has no effect on that outcome either . . . and it doesn't freeze when locked in the freezer for a week. What the hell is this stuff?"
"I am beginning to think the answer to your question is, 'A complete waste of time.' Well, for now, we may as well call it a night. It looks like there won't be any more progress today."
"Hm?" Sans started as his senses were jolted back to the present. "Oh, yeah. Guess you're right." He lowered his shoulders and rolled his head as he shoved his hands in his pockets in a sign of resignation.
Immediately, I felt a little guilty. Sans would only ever shut off like that when he was near a breakthrough. It was almost as if everyone and everything stopped existing for a while so that he could focus more on his tasks. As long as he was in that trance, he would continue with his calculations and scenarios for as long as he was able to stand. The moment he was distracted from it, however, there was no striking it up again.
"Sans," I prompted a bit cautiously, "What is it? What did you see?"
Sans shrugged as he tapped at the ground with the toe of his slipper, "Oh, it's nothing." He sighed, "I was just wondering if this was anything like that time with the magnesium. If we mess around with the carbon ratios . . . or the calcium . . . or maybe there's not enough organic material . . . Ugh, whatever. Day's over, right? This can wait until tomorrow."
As I had suspected, Sans' thought process had completely halted. I'd torn him away from what could have been the key we needed to solve this predicament.
"Hey, I was thinkin'," Sans continued and it seemed he really had taken off the scientist title for the day. He was cutting himself off and letting his speech become more casual, "There's this new bar and grill down in Snowdin I've been meaning to check out. And yeah, we've been at this armor thing for a while. So I figured, today's as good a day as any if you wanted to come with. Take a load off, y'know?"
I nodded slowly at the proposal, thinking it over carefully. But somewhere, already falling into the back of my mind where that nagging voice lived, Sans' words began to stir and mix alongside my own theories.
"As tempting as that sounds, Sans, I'm afraid I must decline this time. There are still pressing matters which require my attention."
"Ah, man, Gaster. You're not gonna hole yourself up here and keep working on this, are you? C'mon, doc. You need the break too!"
"I appreciate the offer Sans," I pressed, "Perhaps next time, I'll join you. For now, you go on ahead. I've got my evening filled."
Sans shrugged again, "Alright, suit yourself." He started as he removed his lab coat and hung it up against the far wall. "Welp, I'm off then. Do you want anything?"
I hummed, forced to remember which foods I actually enjoyed. "I suppose so. Just bring me back one of whatever you end up getting. Let me know how much it is and I'll be sure to repay you."
Sans let out a chuckle as he took his leave. "Sure thing, boss. Just promise me you won't spend the night in here working on this mess."
"Of course." I answered and Sans shook his head as he exited.
He knew I was lying.
Even several hours later, I was still testing the ratios of the mixture, hoping that I could find the correct balance. This went far beyond the armor experiment. This was steadily becoming a personal challenge. Sans had since returned, singing the praises of "Grillbys" and how I really needed to go with him next time. He seemed a bit riled and rambunctious . . . maybe a bit . . . yes, he was definitely intoxicated.
After a while of this, Sans declared me to be "too boring" and he placed the food he brought on a far away stool and left to find rest in his own room. Still, I refused to let him distract me. He really had been onto something in changing the make up of the mixture and after a while of adding ingredients, I decided to try breaking it down once again. The more I took away from it, the clearer it became. Sans had been absolutely correct! It was almost exactly like the time with the magnesium! But instead of more carbons, the compound called for fewer! Calcium Carbonate! The "bicarbonate" made it more of the viscous mess we had been working with before. This is it! It has to be! Now, the only thing to do is to check back and apply more every few hours for the next week.
That should not be too difficult.
This is Dr. W.D. Gaster. Entry: 20-031-A
Yesterday marked the second decade since I started work here as the Royal Scientist to the King and Queen. It also marked the birth of the prince of the Underground. Asriel Dreemurr.
With the birth of Prince Asriel, the King has put a rush on finding the solution to the problem with the barrier. I suppose he feels his son should be able to experience a life in which he is not bound by the restrictions the humans set upon us. Maybe he feels his son deserves to see what color the sky is.
Well, it makes sense. He just wants what's best for his son.
Yes, N.V. Yes, I understand, but answer me this: What about all of the other children who have lived and died here without being able to share in that same luxury? Why don't they deserve to make their wishes on real stars? What is so special about Asriel that he merits that I try harder to do the impossible.
Who said it's because of Asriel?
What else could it be? Why else would he suddenly want to rush this?
Well, if it bothers you so much, don't do it for Asriel. Do it because there are so many who are relying on you. So many who, like you said, deserve to see the sun and make wishes on stars.
Do it because Corbel would have wanted to see it too.
But Corbel will never be able to see the sky! He was never able to witness the stars glittering overhead! He wasn't even able to enjoy the feel of grass!
And is that Asriel's fault?
. . . well, no . . . Damn it . . . My fists clenched on the table before me. The mold lying motionless there in the dim lights of the room.
Is Asriel any less deserving than Corbel. Is any other child?
No, okay, N.V.!? Is that what you want to hear!? No, they are not any less deserving than my . . . than Corbel was! Any parent would want to show their child a life beyond this place. I know I wanted the same thing. That's all that's going on. And Asgore just so happens to be the king . . . The sentiment is touching even if it is a bit late for most other parent's.
Then, what's stopping you? You have your solution. You have your reason. You have your method. What's keeping you back?
My clenched hand unfurled and I raised it to cradle my own skull. N.V. did have a point. With the discovery Sans and I made last month with the calcium carbonate, I could easily begin work on my vessel. If I could complete that, I could at least report that to Asgore. Who knows? Maybe it will get him off my back for a while.
The following is a summary of what we know already:
The barrier can be crossed with one monster soul and one human soul and broken if seven human souls are gathered. Ideally, the souls should resemble the qualities of the mages who created the barrier in the first place. Fortunately for us, the number of souls outweighs the quality. The difficulty lies in synthesizing a human soul and finding a way to merge that with a monster's soul without drastically changing that monster into something the humans would fear.
My plan: Create a powerful vessel that could house human and monster souls without becoming what the humans would classify as terrifying. I would send this vessel up into the human world to collect the souls needed to break the barrier. All this is work toward the King's request . . .
But this project has always had a bit of a personal aspect to it as well and that personal aspect came with the design of this vessel. I had known from the beginning this vessel would resemble a skeleton. Something that would be less likely to be attacked. For some reason, Humans are less hostile toward Skeleton monsters and some humans even idolize them. This was the reason behind the experimentation with the calcium bicarbonate polymer. I would use the results of those tests and form a skeletal structure to be my vessel. But until last month, however, all of my experiments had been complete failures.
When Sans suggested changing the formula, I had been eager to try it on both experiments. When we had finally created a stable prototype for the armor, I decided to try it for my vessel as well.
The only thing left is to do it.
This is the one. This time you have everything you need. This time, you will succeed.
I hesitated a moment. Well, this is a first. I've never known the N.V. to be encouraging. But even it seems to feel confident about the vessel now, and I suppose this is a good thing . . . ? I'll just go with it.
Besides, perhaps this way, you can have your wish as well. Corbel will be able to see the sky.
This is Dr. W.D. Gaster. Entry 20-031-B
I've done it.
The Skeletal form of my vessel is complete. It took me a long while to shape. This time, however, there was a certain level of confidence that had never been there before. There is no doubt in my mind that this vessel is the one! This is the vessel that will change life for the Underground even more than the Core. This vessel will be my crowning achievement! This will be the creature who will see the surface and return to empty the underground just like the legend of the delta crest . . . and to think that I will be the one to bring the prophecy into fruition.
But why stop there? There is so much more I could do with this! After all, once the barrier is broken, what will become of the vessel? It would need a sense of purpose. How about . . . Well, perhaps I could . . .
*ahem*
As I look now over the lifeless form, I realize that I am being presented with a second opportunity . . . a chance to be a . . .
I cannot pass up this opportunity.
It has been so long since I left my former life behind. Almost fifteen years now. Even with the almost constant interruption from N.V. I have to remind myself that once upon a time and long ago, I had been a father . . . I'd had a wife and a son. And as much as I have tried to push that life aside when it had all come crumbling down, I have to admit to myself that I do miss it. And if I could at least have part of that life back . . . how could I possibly turn away from it?
Something else about what Sans was muttering last month has resonated deep within me to the point that even N.V. has latched onto the concept and has been pressuring me into it for weeks now. Perhaps adding organic material could strengthen the core of the vessel even more . . . not only that, but . . .
I have to try. I would always wonder and N.V. would never let me sleep if I didn't.
I think I still have it in my desk.
. . .
The tubes were right where I left them. This is the only organic material I can think of that would suffice for a situation such as this. If I mix Corbel's remaining dust with this mold, not only will the vessel be strengthened, but Corbel will have the opportunity to live on beyond the confines of the Underground! He can see all of the things I'd promised him! Just like N.V. said!
But it will not do just to spread the dust over the form I've shaped and leave it at that. No, the whole thing will have to be remodeled. I will deconstruct this form and thoroughly mix Corbel's dust into the malleable internal structure of the vessel.
This is Dr. W.D. Gaster. Entry 20-031-C
This vessel will be more than just a Skeleton in shape, it will be a Skeleton in every other aspect as well. More than just a Skeleton: this vessel symbolizes the rebirth of my son. I mixed the entirety of Corbel's dust in with the clay-like substance I have been using as the internal structure of the Skeleton. From there, I reshaped the form. But to do my son justice, I needed to make sure every little detail was perfect. And for this, I couldn't use a predetermined cookie-cutter mold. I needed to take more time and do it properly.
Of course, I realize that the vessel has to be large enough to carry a monster soul and seven human souls . . . so my new Corbel can't be the child I lost. Instead, I knew I had to shape the form to fit what Corbel would have looked like if he had been given the opportunity to grow. As a child, his limbs had been long and he had been a thin little boy, so there was no doubt that he would have been tall. And Corbel took after his mother in the length of his fingers, but he had my rectangular palms . . . I chose to leave his palms whole.
His torso had been long as well. As I shaped him, I made sure the spine was strong and long to make sure he retained that feature. His chest would have to be broad and the rib cage would have to be strong enough to house and protect the souls, while remaining anatomically sound.
And the face . . . the face was the hardest part. As I formed the face, I couldn't fight back the memories from flooding back. As I formed the face of my son, every game, every laugh, every smile, every cry . . . every fight . . . every cough . . . every cloud of bone dust rammed against the edges of my memory. I had to step away. A part of me shattered all over again and I doubted I would be able to go through with it.
So, once again, you're running away, are you? Did it suddenly get too real for you? Look, Gaster, I told you, you can't keep turning your back on these things just because they might sting a little! What kind of weak-minded monster runs away from his family?
Stop it, N.V! This has nothing to do with you! This is none of your damned business!
What do you mean it has nothing to do with me? It has everything to do with me! Let me put it into perspective for you. Before today, when was the last time you even looked at those vials? In these past thirteen years, when was the last time you visited the place where Nyala fell? Oh yeah, that would be never! Before today, when was the last time you even acknowledged you had a family? Does Sans know their names? Does he know they even existed?
You leave Sans out of this! Don't you dare drag him down in this!
Alright then, let's keep this all about you! What kind of pathetic excuse for a soul abandons the chance for a happy reunion when he is literally and figuratively inches away from it!? You've come this far and you've already added the dust. There's no turning back now. You have no choice! You have to complete him!
I . . . I can't. This isn't right. I should never have added Corbel's dust. This . . . this was a mistake.
Bullshit. You did this because you wanted to. You wanted your son back, didn't you? Well, here is your opportunity. He's lying right there. Just finish him.
This project has become too personal . . . I will have to scrap the whole thing and start again from scratch . . . even if it means I've lost the last bit of Corbel I had left . . .
Bullshit again.
I can't do this.
Bullshit! You can and you will. Look, it's easy. Just don't think about how he died. Think about how he was when he was alive and healthy. That is the son you're getting back after all. The same thing CANNOT happen a second time. This life is artificial. He will NEVER get sick. He will NEVER fall to the same disease that you so selfishly inflicted on him. Now get back in there and finish the job!
Once again, N.V. was right. The Corbel I was bringing back was not the child who was battling with disease. He could not get sick like that again. This new Corbel was stronger and immune to that kind of pain. After a moment, I gathered myself once again and I was able to finish constructing his face.
Corbel had been a very handsome little boy and doubtless, he would have grown to be just as handsome. His eyes had been bright and full of curiosity, and his jaw was strong even for his age. His cheek bones would have been so defined as an adult, so I had to make sure to indicate that as well. And his smile. The smile that seemed to spread clear across his face . . .
I did it. I have created something magnificent. This vessel is going to be the one to liberate every monster from this underground prison. Not only that . . . but it would bring something back into my life that I believed I had lost a long time ago. No, I could never get that time with Corbel back . . . but this way, it was almost like I have been able to give him his life back. With the addition of Corbel's dust. This project should start to take on more monster-like qualities, specifically the qualities of my caring and observant and inquisitive son.
This is Dr. W.D. Gaster. Entry 20-074- A
The form has been completed for over a month. On a day when the lab was closed and I had given Sans the day off, I used a chamber in the Core as a sort of kiln and set the clay substance to solidify the form I made. Since then, I have been steadily adding layer after layer of the calcium carbonate mixture over him, creating a thick shell that will be able to protect him. Last night, I applied the final coat.
All that is left is to activate him.
For this, I know it calls for a bit of a personal sacrifice. I had known it ever since before I had written my first formula for the project. In order to activate this vessel, I would have to give up a bit of my own life.
This will be a magical exchange of power and energy. I do not yet know how this will effect me, but I suspect it will take away from my Max HP. After all, after the exchange, Corbel will need to . . . this project will need to be able to sustain on his own . . . on its own. He will need a reserve. And for him, I will gladly provide.
I have taken the HP reader from the examination room downstairs and brought it here in order to monitor the exchange. The nodes have been attached, we have both been linked to the machine and I am ready to begin. The moment he has enough HP to sustain at the basic level, I will disconnect. Ten should do it for now, I think.
There will be ample opportunity for him to earn more HP when the time comes. For now, it is not necessary.
I admit I am . . . apprehensive. Please allow me a moment to collect myself . . . In just a few moments, I will be attempting something that others would have called borderline deranged. And I am certain even N.V. would be inclined to agree with the assessment.
Essentially, I am about to raise the dead.
. . . or perhaps what I am doing is creating Death. I am very well aware of the human legend of the "Grim Reaper" who is a cloaked skeletal figure with the ability to absorb a human's life force just by touching them . . . It had been the inspiration behind this vessel, and it is exactly what I have just built. My own personal human death machine.
Oh my, why would I be laughing at such a thought? And . . . even this smile is a bit foreign. It feels dark and a bit sinister as it caters to my more twisted fantasies.
I must focus. I must banish the smile and the laughter to direct my attention to the task at hand.
Even as I stand over the form once again, there is a feeling that makes me hesitate to continue. On one hand, I am ecstatic. If this all goes according to plan, it really could mean the end of monster suffering once and for all- at least as it pertains to the barrier. It would be as good as destroyed and everyone would finally be able to return to the surface. Above all that, Corbel will finally be able to witness all of the things I could only tell him about before. I will finally be able to keep my promise to him . . . On the other hand, I am absolutely terrified. If this project is unsuccessful like all of my others . . .
Focus, Gaster! You can't dwell on that right now. Just begin the transfer! The sooner you do . . .
The sooner I'll know.
Then let's begin.
The machine sounds like it's ready and the silhouette can be seen. For now, there is only mine, but that will change soon.
Just get on with it! And make sure you're detailed with your dictation. This is for posterity after all.
Fine, fine. This experiment falls under category: P. The experiment number: 497. This is attempt: 305. From now on, I will be referring to this simply as P-497305. This is it. After months of continuous research and countless failures, I have finally found the proper combination needed for this experiment to retain its form. I must take a moment here to note that without the input of my assistant, C. Sans Serif, it is possible that I never would have been able to find the correct ratios. Thank you, Sans for your contribution.
If this attempt is successful, the King will finally have his miracle and the Underground will finally have its Liberator. However, if this goes the way of every one of his . . . of the preceding experiments . . .
I have given absolutely everything I have left . . .
. . . This will be my final attempt using this method . . .
*ahem*
I must exercise caution when channeling the energy into the vessel. As it is, P-497305 is completely receptive. Any contact I make, I believe will siphon my energy and direct it into the vessel. All it should take is a single . . .
Damn it, that's hot! But the second silhouette flashed for a moment on the monitor. This is clearly the correct course of action. If I place one hand on either side of the skull . . .
HRRRGNNNN! It burns! The longer I hold on, the more intensely it – GAHH! HNNNNGGGHH! Not only that, but my vision . . . My vision is compromised! I can't see! How much have I . . .
It's starting to go dark. Perhaps, I should . . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
How long has it been?
I see that the machine is still active and both silhouettes are clearly visible now.
How is it that I have given THIRTY from my Max HP to the vessel!? Damn . . . I never intended . . .
Well, there is no point in lamenting it now. What's done is done.
It is still a bit difficult to stand. I expect it will take a bit longer for my strength to return to me. For now, I will simply observe.
The vessel seems to have received the HP, other than that, there has yet to be any notable change. He is still immobile and has not yet awakened. Perhaps he, too, will require time enough for his new strength to find him.
Wait! Wait . . . the hand shifted . . . both hands now, and his face . . . He's trying to wake himself!
His eyes have opened into slits. This . . . this is remarkable! He's beginning to stir! He's waking up!
H-his eyes are opened! I am unsure as of yet if he is able to focus or comprehend what he sees. I am unsure if he can see at all! But, my god . . . if this isn't the most . . .
His attention has shifted! He's responding to the sound of my voice! He is trying to locate the source of the sound! He has spotted me and his eyes have opened completely! He's awake! He is awake and alive!
Oh! Good morning, son!
AN: Congratulations! You can all fluently read wingdings! Doesn't that feel amazing!?
Thank you everyone for bearing with me through all of this! It's been a bit of a crazy ride, hasn't it!? Man there was just SO much to say! I can't believe it took me this long to get it all out there! So, there you have it! We are now completely caught up with Gaster's Backstory and we can get back to the main story with a little more understanding of how Gaster thinks and the influence that's at work in his head. (If you'd like to know the true nature of the voice in Gaster's head, just say its initials out loud) Well, anyway, you now know where he came from and why things happened the way they did. And why things will happen the way they will. I hope to be able to get back into that by the next chapter.
Or wait . . . there might just be a little more to the story. There's one more entry that might be significant. After all, he was able to at least symbolically bring Corbel back, but we haven't seen why he hated P-497305 so much that he was willing to destroy every trace of him. Maybe this next entry will put that question to rest.
Bonus Entry:
This is Dr. W.D. Gaster. Entry 23-360-D
. . . Something terrible has happened . . .
It has been nearly four years since the vessel P-497305 has been active. It had so much promise to be everything I knew it could be. The potential was there and so much progress had been made. It could walk, focus, respond to directions. It knew how to use and manifest its magic to create strong bone attacks. It was able to read a situation and act accordingly. It even knew when an opponent was low on HP and, not wanting to make dust of his opponent, could instantly modify a crushing finishing blow to one that would merely render the target unconscious.
When I introduced it to my assistants, it almost immediately gained the approval of all who saw it and interacted with it. Even Sans, who was originally skeptical of the vessel, was inevitably won over by its childlike charm.
Of course it couldn't last.
Why I had been expecting it to is beyond me.
Nothing ever truly lasts, does it?
In order to correctly account what happened, I will have to recount the events of early last month:
Near the end of shift one night, I noticed there was a severe lack of activity around the lab. I found this a bit suspicious considering I am normally being bombarded with question after question by monsters seeking approval to continue with their assigned projects or trying to verify they interpreted their directions correctly. The assistants had not been excused for the day, there was still clean-up and prep for tomorrow that needed taking care of. Why in the world was it so quiet? Even Sans was missing.
There was a call on the overhead. Sans' voice called for me to come to the atrium on the top level right away. There was something there that needed my immediate attention.
Of course, I responded right away, rushing to the atrium, but nothing could have prepared me for what I found.
P-497305 seemed to have fallen comatose. It was laid out as if sleeping over the threadbare carpet of the front lobby, unresponsive and still.
Lying beside it was . . . were . . . well, perhaps "parts" would have been the best word to describe it. Pieces?
The body of the human child was mangled almost beyond recognition, but the tattered remains of a small dress alerted me that the child had once been female. The hair was a matted bloody mane, the face had been burned so badly that even now, the smell has refused to dissipate. The arms had been broken in several places and the body had suffered cuts so deep that I was surprised to find the inner workings still inside the creature. The foot had been removed so only one of the girl's blood stained white-strapped sandals made it to where the rest of the body had ended up.
"Was the soul obtained?"
The silence following my question was overwhelming. It seems the others were more focused on the condition of the human rather than what was really important here. This was the first human to fall into the Underground since the war! There was no saying how long it would be before another came to us.
Sans looked to me for a quick moment with incredulity in his eyes. A moment later, he turned his face away.
"yes." He answered and the tone in his voice was darker than I'd ever heard from him. He seemed to be absolutely torn up about the scene in front of him, "it was a blue soul. light blue like the sk . . . like the little dress she'd been wearing. the soul has been sealed in a container like we discussed and is awaiting processing."
"Excellent. Good work. Now, we will have to clean up this mess and dispose of the carcass before leaving for the day. I will write a report to alert King Asgore of the discovery. Congratulations, we are now one soul closer to—"
"aren't you the least bit curious how this happened, doctor?!" Sans interrupted, something in his temper snapping despite the quiet rumble his voice had taken on, "don't you even want to know how she got here? or what happened to her that she ended up . . . like this . . . ? she fell into the underground by accident. she was scared. she was just waiting for her parents to come find her . . . like they told her to do."
"Sans, I fail to see what this has to do with—"
"thinking that she could find her own way out, she stopped waiting patiently and she wandered to the outskirts of the ruins where the structure isn't nearly as sound. that's where pap . . . p-497305 and i found her. she was terrified of us and she dropped her toy knife and ran calling for her mommy and daddy. she tripped on a loose stone . . . and it caused a rock-slide . . ."
"Then we will have to alert the other monsters around to avoid the outskirts of the ruins. Perhaps there may even be a way for them to be repaired. But until then—"
"she was crushed by the weight of the stones!" Sans jumped in again, a bit of a bite to his voice now as he continued his oral report, "she was dead before we could get to her! but that didn't stop p-497305. he fought through the rubble to get to her. he pulled boulders out of the way like it was almost nothing, but even he couldn't lift the stones that pinned her to the ground . . . i couldn't even budge it, so he pulled . . . his touch burned her, but he was determined to get her out."
. . . the fact that P-497305 burned her with only a touch told me that even though the human had been crushed by rubble, the child was still alive in there before being pulled from the debris. I was certain she would have died either way, but hearing the distress in Sans' voice as he recounted the story, I found I was unable to correct him and tell him the truth about the human.
"he pulled until she was freed, but even then he refused to put her down. he walked all the way here with her body in his arms to bring her to you. maybe he thought you could help her . . . but as soon as we made it back, he collapsed. not that you asked. i just thought you'd like to know how the human met her end."
I let the moment end on its own, not wanting to respond too quickly. The ordeal and the story had obviously taken a lot out of Sans and by the end of it, he was nearly glaring at me as if judging me by my reaction or lack thereof.
"You are correct, Sans." I acknowledged, "I don't believe I asked for this information, but I do thank you for it."
Obviously, that was not the correct response. Sans' glare deepened, "don't mention it." He grit through his teeth.
He was silent for the rest of the night.
P-497305 did not respond for a few days afterward, but eventually, it stirred.
Which leads me to this evening.
Again, it was the end of shift and again, P-497305 had failed the day's tests. Ever since the incident with the human child, this had been the new expected outcome. The assistant who had been assigned to monitor his progress today had just finished up her written analysis. But as she reached out to lead the project from the examination room, P-497305 reacted. It reacted extremely violently.
He . . . must have seen her as a threat, approaching him so soon after a battle simulation. At least that is how Sans justifies it. P-497305 attacked her, using the full extent of its magic against her. Even though her catlike reflexes allowed her to dodge his attacks as she attempted to defend herself. She didn't have the same endurance as P-497305. She called for help.
We came, but we came too late.
When we arrived, all we saw was P-497305 standing over a pile of dust, the clothing and the glasses of the monster had fallen to the floor, her clipboard clamored to the ground as the orange glow of the burst of magical energy faded.
At the gasps and cries and screams of the other assistants, the vessel's attention was once again alerted and the fierce glow returned stronger and brighter this time so that the glow almost seemed red. Is it possible that with the demise of the first monster, had the vessel gained an LV?!
There was no other warning. P-497305 attacked, sending bones hurtling toward the entire group! In a moment of panic, I summoned my own bone projectiles and fired them as precisely as I could, cancelling out the vessel's attack. Meanwhile, Sans dodged the bone flying toward him and used his blue magic to quickly move the other spectators out of the way. It was as if we had rehearsed what to do in this situation. In moments, the entirety of the group had been moved (relatively) safely into a neighboring hall with only minor injuries.
"You guys get out of here!" Sans ordered, sending them further down the hall. Heal yourselves, get the Royal Guard if you have to, just get away from here!"
The others obeyed without question and righted themselves to escape. In the moments that followed, Sans found his way to my side and was ready to use his magic against P-497305.
There was no need.
As soon as Sans used his blue magic to pin the vessel to the ground and inhibit its movements, the magic that seemed to fill its being flickered and dimmed. It soon faded completely, leaving an immobile frame.
Panting and fighting to catch his breath, Sans released the vessel. I, however, remained alert and ready to strike if that thing so much as moved its finger.
There's no way! There's no way that thing could have any semblance to my Corbel! It may have his dust, and I may even have shaped it to look as close to him as I could, but that is where any similarities end! My Corbel would never have done that to another monster! Even if he were scared, he would never bring himself to kill another monster! Doing so made him . . . it made that thing worse than human! It was . . . a disgrace . . . an abomination!
Moments later, there was a hand to my arm. Sans grabbed at the sleeve to my coat and stayed my hand. I hadn't even realized how much magic I had been accumulating. Several jagged bone fragments had been summoned and poised to attack.
"I don't think he's moving, Doc." Sans sighed. "I think he's down. You can call off your attack."
I released the magic and the attack was dismissed.
Sans took a step forward. Taking in the sight. "So," he began, "How do you wanna do this?"
His tone was still a bit dark when he spoke to me directly. He was still upset with me for some reason, but he knew well how to push his personal feelings aside for the sake of work.
I decided that P-497305 would need to be locked away until we can figure out what to do with it. I took it upon myself to store it away until it wakes again.
In the meantime, I had Sans collect the fallen monster's dust and her personal effects and find a container in which to store them until tomorrow. I considered the possibility of alerting her family tonight to inform them of what transpired here . . . but I thought better of it. No one should be awakened in the middle of the night with news like that. Let them have one last night of peaceful sleep.
In the morning, I will have to find some way to explain to them just how she died . . .