Five: The White Room.

Ninth Ward, Tokyo-3 Special Administrative District, Japan.

July 11, 2015.

Shinji pulled open the curtains and blinked against the sudden glare. The constant drone of cicadas filtered through the window, filling the blank room with dull noise. The bedroom bore no trace that a boy named Shinji lived here, except for a rolled futon and the stacks of cardboard boxes lining the walls.

What should I unpack first?

He opened a box in the corner opposite the closet. That's all winter clothes. Another contained a stack of workbooks. Shinji stood there for a moment, his hand curled around the edge of a book inside. He slowly raised it to eye level and inspected the worn cover. What's my old sketchbook doing here? I thought I left this at Sensei's house.

As he lifted the cover, a small envelope fell from between the pages. Shinji stooped and picked it up. The immaculate handwriting on the stiff cardstock read simply: "To Ikari Shinji. From Maruyama Shiro." Sensei sent me a letter? He set the envelope on the drawer, resolving to read it later, and flipped through the sketches. They ended about halfway through the book. Scrawled on the top line of the last page was a familiar phone number and an exhortation to "call when you get there." Shinji's grip tightened, wrinkling the paper.

"What's that, Shinji-kun?"

Shinji flinched at the sudden noise. Katsuragi Misato drained her can of Yebisu, crumpling it against the doorframe, and lobbed it across the room into the trash can.

"My old sketchbook," Shinji said. "From middle school."

Something smells odd. Shinji sniffed the air.

"Is that…"

Misato smiled brightly. "I made curry!" For breakfast?

"After all," she continued. "There's nothing better in the morning than hot curry and cold beer!" She strode towards the kitchen. Shinji set the notebook down on the side table and followed.

The flat looked like it had been struck by an air raid. Beer cans, empty food wrappers, and trash bags lay underfoot. Shinji stepped around a bag of garbage, nudging aside an empty sake bottle with his foot. How does she live like this? Sensei would've murdered me if I let my room get this filthy. Shinji picked up a thawed ice pack sitting on the table and went to return it to the freezer. He tugged the handle…

And out tumbled a penguin. Shinji froze where he was, crouched before the freezer door, as the penguin squared up to him. The bird made solid eye contact with the astounded boy for at least ten seconds—as if asserting dominance over the apartment. Eventually, the animal turned away, waddled to the fridge, and retrieved a beer. Misato caught the door with her foot.

"Shinji-kun, can you get me a beer too?"

Shinji reached out with a shaking hand and retrieved one, passing it up to her. She beamed at him and cracked it open.

Shinji stood up slowly. "Was that—"

"You hadn't met him yet?" He shook his head. I didn't leave my room yesterday.

Shinji spoke, forming his words carefully. "You have a penguin…in your freezer?"

Misato nodded. "That's Pen-Pen. He's a warm springs penguin."

Shinji sat down, trying to format the dozen new questions she had just raised. Warm. Springs. Penguin. What—

Misato set a bowl of food in front of him. Any further questions on their avian roommate evaporated. The powerful odor he had smelled in the hallway grew tenfold, like a strange mixture of caramel and burnt spices. He lifted a spoonful of the plasticky rice and lumpy curry to his mouth.

The dish was insipid and strangely sticky. The only recognizable flavors was a massive amount of star anise and a sickly sweetness which clung to the roof of his mouth—there wasn't a grain of salt in it. Shinji struggled to gnaw through the overcooked beef. It was unrecognizable as edible food—more like an old bootstrap.

Misato leaned forward. "So? What do you think, Shinji-kun?"

Shinji finally managed to break up the meat and swallow. He took a long drink of water, but the cloying aftertaste lingered.

"Is that…brown sugar?"

She nodded. "And vanilla extract!"

Shinji looked down at the dish. "It's very unique, Misato-san. I've never had anything like it."

She grinned. "Thanks!"

Shinji picked up his spoon. For some strange reason, his hand would not obey him. He glanced up. Misato was intently watching from over the top of her beer can. I mustn't run away. With a great exertion of will, he thrust his spoon into the bowl.

Shinji swallowed the last bite of curry. For a moment, a cube of meat hovered indecisively in his throat, before finally conceding. He shuddered violently. Well, at least that ordeal is over. Misato checked her watch.

"We're getting late. The sync test is at eleven. Should we go?" Shinji nodded as she finished her beer. Misato patted her pockets and frowned.

"Now, where did I put my keys?"

Central Dogma, Tokyo-3 Special Administrative District, Japan.

July 11, 2015.

Shinji glanced up from his medical questionnaire. The tiny antechamber was stuffed to the brim with NERV staff. Aoba Shigeru smiled at him from the far corner of the room, the only friendly face in the vicinity. A stocky man in an office chair was looking over a sheaf of paperwork, while Akagi Ritsuko tapped her feet impatiently from the other chair.

Captain Katsuragi glared at the rest of the room from behind Shinji. Her intimidation tactic was working; the three lab technicians in the room with them carefully avoided making eye contact. A woman wearing a dark suit and mirrored sunglasses stood at the door, although even she shied away from Misato.

Ritsuko took Shinji's finished questionnaire. The man got out of his office chair and offered his hand.

"Good morning, Ikari-san. My name is Benedikt Lavrentiy. I'm the new subcommander of NERV."

Shinji shook the man's hand. He continued, "Has Captain Katsuragi told you about our offer?" Shinji nodded.

"You want me to pilot the Evangelion, right?"

"That's right," Benedikt said. "If you accept the offer, you'll be commissioned as an EVA Pilot. The billet you'll be filling is here in Tokyo-3." Aoba passed Shinji the thick contract. The pages were printed in dense columns of tiny black letters, written in impenetrable legalese. In witness whereof the parties hereunto have set their hands to these presents as a deed on the day—

Misato reached down and tugged the form out of his hands.

"Let me read this for you, Shinji-kun."

An uncomfortable silence fell.

The security guard coughed, shifting slightly. Ritsuko reached for a cigarette pack that wasn't there. She made an aggravated tsk.

Misato finally passed the contract back to Shinji.

"Everything looks good."

"I could have told you that," Benedikt muttered under his breath. "This isn't a used car dealership."

He handed Shinji a pen. "Initial here, here, and here, please." Shinji did so, signing his name on the line at the end. "And Captain Katsuragi?"

Misato took the pen, signing on the "legal guardian" line. Benedikt took the form. "We'll send you a copy. Captain Akagi?"

Ritsuko handed Shinji a plastic bag. He pulled a blue latex suit out of it. He frowned. "What's this?"

"That's your plugsuit," Ritsuko said. "It improves the interface with the Evangelion. The interface has trouble connecting when there's foreign material inside." Ritsuko turned to Aoba Shigeru. "Show Pilot Ikari to the locker room."

The hall outside the door was cramped and poorly lit. Shigeru glanced at Shinji.

"So, Ikari-kun. How's your first day at NERV going?" Shinji made a noncommittal sound.

"It's very…loud."

Aoba laughed.

"Get used to it, Pilot. Someone's always gonna be breathing down your neck. It's way worse in Section Six. Their supervisors are like attack dogs—and the inspectors carry shotguns. Don't go anywhere near there without a badge and an excuse."

They entered a wider passageway. "You've in Captain Katsuragi's section, so you won't have to deal with as much bullshit. Just remember; don't be too productive or you'll get extra work, don't draw attention to yourself, and finally"—Aoba pointed to a door on the right marked 'Men's Locker Room'—"never volunteer for anything."

The locker room was deserted. Shinji walked to the back row of lockers and set the bag on the scarred bench. He pulled the suit out of the bag and held it up. The blue rubber was studded over the chest with white plastic armor.

Shinji undressed and stepped into the legs of the suit. The material hung in loose flaps around his ankles and waist. He stuck his arms through the sleeves and put his head through the neck hole. The armored chest of the suit sat loosely on his shoulders, the seam on his back letting in an uncomfortable chill. Shinji stuffed his clothes in the bag and walked out of the locker room.

"Um, Aoba-san?"

"Ready, Ikari-san?"

"I think they gave me the wrong size—"

Aoba tapped a button on his wrist, and the suit suddenly tightened. Shinji made an undignified squeak as the rubber vacuum-sealed to his body.

"Never mind.".

Shinji squirmed. I feel naked. The plugsuit was perfectly molded to his body—not nearly as restrictive as a latex suit would seem. Unfortunately, the thin material concealed absolutely nothing. The plastic armor didn't cover very much, either. Shinji held the bag in front of his crotch and prayed the others had left.

They reentered the antechamber. The room's inhabitants all turned to inspect the Third Child—Shinji was struck with the intense desire to fall through the floor. Misato looked him over and nodded.

"Good, it fits. Sensors are in the right places, too. Lieutenant Sagami, the Interface Headset?"

One of the technicians, a diminutive man with a green streak in his bowl-cut, handed her a box. Misato lifted off the cover, pulling out a narrow wire headset with two triangular pods.

"Hold still, Shinji-kun."

She slid the headset onto his head and pressed a button. Shinji felt a prickling feeling on his scalp as the pods whirred to life. Ritsuko leaned in and checked the headset.

"Looks good. Pilot, enter the simulation room."

The large door at the far end of the antechamber rolled open. The NERV officials filed through another door into what looked like a command center, outfitted with dozens of dials and switches.

Shinji passed through the large door, emerging into a huge room. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all painted matte white. A glass observation box sat in the center of the near wall, filled with NERV staff. Misato waved from inside. The center of the room housed a metal throne. A huge glass tube sat over the chair, mounted on a set of hydraulic rails. Dozens of pipes ran from the floor into the base of the chair . A set of controls sat on a folding ceiling stalk. The intercom let out a screech, before the tinny voice of Misato came through the crackling.

"Pilot Ikari, please sit in the chair." Shinji did so, stepping up onto the pedestal. The coldness of the metal was compounded by the thinness of the plugsuit. With a grinding whir, the control yoke descended to chest level.

"If you need to speak to the bridge, press the blue button on the right side of the control panel." Shinji pressed the button, leaning in.

"Am I doing this right? Can you hear me?"

"That's the correct button," Misato replied, audibly amused. With a brief squawk of static, Benedikt came onto the line.

"We're lowering the tube now, pilot. The LCL will come next." The pneumatics hissed and began to descend. Shinji sat back and closed his eyes.

Benedikt Lukyanovich stared at the instrument panel and realized that he understood exactly six of the seventy-nine readings. Does that annoy me? He searched his soul. Yes, yes it does. Very much so. Where's the damned manual when you need it? He sighed, reaching for his box of cigars; That's right, I can't smoke in here. Figures. He cast a furtive glance upward. I wonder if Akagi saw that. She made a hell of a fuss when she got her pack taken at the door. He looked over. Akagi Ritsuko was staring directly at him, an insufferable expression on her face. Damn it. He deliberately turned away from the head of Section Seven, focusing on one dial labeled: 'Neutrino Emission Rate.' What the hell does that mean, exactly? Neutrinos? I think that's an old cartoon?

"Subcommander Lavrentiy."

Akagi's tone combined insolence and smug condescension.

"Yes," Benedikt spat through clenched teeth. "What is it, Captain?"

"I thought you looked a little confused. Do you know what we are testing today, sir?"

"Yes, Captain. I'm not stupid, you know." He saw her open her mouth and decided to preempt whatever snarky comment was on the way. "Captain Katsuragi. Is everything going…well?" Ritsuko made a disparaging noise, which he ignored with ill grace.

Misato nodded. "We're about to flood the plug now, sir." She pressed a button, and the glass tube began to fill with fluid. Lieutenant Sagami glanced over his shoulder at Benedikt.

"We have a solid connection on the interface, sir."

Benedikt leaned forward, looking at the psychograph screen.

"Start the test."

Shinji blinked. The floodlights outside cast a hazy red glow on the cold LCL in the tube. The internal speaker buzzed. "We're starting the sync test now, Pilot."

The inside of the plug hummed, rainbow lights shining along the walls of the chamber. Shinji felt a hazy presence fill the liquid, less distinct than the one inside Unit-01. He relaxed and let it in. That's odd. I can't feel my legs. He tried waving a hand.

"Um, Commander?"

Benedikt glanced up. Aoba tapped his screen. "You might want to see this."

Subcommander Lavrentiy strode over, peering at the grainy display. Three Evangelion torsos floated in the dark. Each body had only one arm and a forest of wires instead of a head. As he watched, the bodies raised their hands—and waved. It's…moving?

"Is it supposed to be doing that?" Benedikt asked. He heard Akagi come up behind him. She peered at the screen.

"No. No, it is not. Somehow, Ikari is moving the Simulation Bodies."

Aoba shook his head. "Impossible. Those circuits are locked from Central Dogma."

"Well," Benedict muttered. "Looks like they've been unlocked."

He glanced over at the sync rate meter. "45 percent," Benedikt said. "That's better than last time, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Misato said. "Three percent higher than when he fought the Angel."

Ritsuko stared at the video feed. The Simulation Bodies rocked slowly back and forth in the tank. Violet spikes of electric discharge radiated from the center body, casting an eerie glow across the chamber. She gave the dials a once-over. "We've collected enough data. Shut it down."

Shinji twisted the knob shut. The warm water pouring from the shower head stopped. He took the NERV issued towel from its hook, padding across the beige tiles to the locker. 06-06-01 and the lock sprang open. Shinji withdrew his clothes from the metal locker and quickly got dressed. The plugsuit went into a plastic bag, the towel over his shoulder.

He put on his shoes and walked out into the hall. At the end of the long corridor, Benedikt Lavrentiy stood beside the elevator, nose buried in a manual. He looked up as Shinji approached.

"Good afternoon, Pilot Ikari."

"Hello, sir," Shinji replied. What are the odds he'd still be here? Shinji stood at a generous distance, and an awkward silence fell. He noted Benedikt's manual was titled, "Evangelion Simulator User's Guide, Sixth Edition."

The Subcommander coughed. "So, Pilot, how's your first day at NERV going? Are you looking forward to deploying again?"

Absolutely not.

"Yes, sir," Shinji replied. "I won't run away!"

"Your enthusiasm is refreshing, Ikari-san. I heard Captain Katsuragi is putting you into First Municipal Junior High?"

Shinji nodded. How long does that elevator take to come down?

"That's a good school," Lavrentiy continued. He closed the book with a snap. "Pilot Ikari, I want your opinion on today's test." His tone had suddenly sharpened.

"Yes, sir?"

"Did you notice anything strange when you were in the plug? Say, tension on your limbs?"

Shinji frowned. "Well, I couldn't feel my legs in there. My arms also felt kind of…heavy?"

"Interesting. The neural circuit restraints failed, then. One last question." The elevator arrived. Benedikt pressed the button for the ground floor and leaned against the railing.

"Did you experience any hallucinations in the plug? It could be flashing lights, or disembodied voices?" Shinji shook his head. The elevator continued to trundle upwards.

"No, Subcommander. Nothing like that happened." Benedikt shrugged.

"Makes sense. Pilot Ayanami's situation might have just been a one-off."

Benedikt's pocket buzzed. The man frowned, drawing a flip phone out of his coat. His eyes narrowed. The Subcommander cleared his throat.

"Ikari-san…I have bad news. The divers—"

Shinji felt his stomach twist into a knot. He turned away from the other man, staring into the latticed sides of the elevator. Benedikt continued in a quiet, flat voice.

"They found your father."

Misato caught Shinji by the arm before he could disappear behind the door.

"Wait, Shinji-kun." The boy stopped in the hallway, back turned to her.

"The funeral is next week," she said. "Do you think you'll be up to go?"

He nodded silently.

"Okay. You'll be issued a dress uniform by NERV for the ceremony." She let go of him, and Shinji lurched forward.

"One more thing, Shinji-kun. I want you to know that if you want to talk about anything, I'm here—" He shut the door with a quiet thud.

Shinji set the bag containing his plugsuit in one corner of his room. A crackling sensation shot into his right eye. He gritted his teeth until the pain died back to a tingling ache. He crossed the room and picked up the envelope he had left on the table.

The photograph inside depicted a small family of three people; a woman, with delicate features, dark bob-cut hair, and a beatific smile. She wore a lab coat over a pink button-up shirt. The blue-eyed toddler in her arms intently chewed her sleeve. But Shinji's eyes were drawn to the man to her right.

A younger Ikari Gendo stood beside Yui. One arm rested around his wife's shoulder. His face was clean shaven, although the familiar yellow sunglasses still masked his eyes. The most surprising feature, however, was his broad smile. Shinji set the photograph down on top of the sketchbook.

He quietly opened his door and poked his head into the hall. Misato was nowhere in sight. Shinji walked over to the landline, picked up the earpiece, and began to dial. His finger paused over the last digit.

Shinji set the receiver down.

"I'm a coward."

Notes:

PREVIEW: Yo, Ryoji here with your preview. The Third Child's first day of school goes sour. The Evangelion casts a long shadow. A funeral and a rebirth. Next time on Herz und Seele, Chapter Six: The Long Goodbye. Don't worry, there'll be plenty of fanservice!