A Horrifying, Yet Miraculous, Absolution
Ch. 11
[×]
Packages were something special, meaningful, or routine. They could be a gift, a keepsake from a lost loved one, or a simple shipment of the most recent grocery supply run. In this case, it was certainly a present: the cardboard box was wrapped in bright paper. It was a print of the Earth and the various locations within it – in a traveling agency sort of way. Every major metro covered the wrapping: from Westopolis to Central City; the ruins of the Ancients to mountains far, vast, and wide.
A small smile hugged Gerald's features as he reread the note again. To: The Best Professor in the WORLD. Simple and in cursive, the entire getup was finished with a bright blue bow. Maria definitely understood how to approach him when he felt tired and needed a pick-me-up.
Time away from his granddaughter was not pleasant, but his current job was too busy to leave alone. Even tucking in his dear and Shadow for bed took too much from him, but that was the one vice he kept.
Eyes flickered back towards the package.
He could afford ten minutes.
Vices came in threes, right?
Gerald put away his notebook as he opened the gift, eventually reaching into the depths. Hands pulled out a brand-new book – still smelling of fresh ink – with the title displayed proudly in the middle: Dr. Robotnik's Guide to the Ancient Civilizations – One Man's True Accounts of His Daring, Yet Foolish, Adventures in the South. The image covering the background was one even he couldn't recognize in his memories, but stunning all the same. The words 'Glyphic Canyon,' in small font, were purposefully placed into a position to showcase the ancient ruins lodged onto sheer walls.
He rubbed the author's full name with a thumb.
His firstborn son's.
Gerald didn't know there had been a publishing deal. While the communication [the lack of anything aside the pleas of returning Maria back down to the surface to die-] with his child was… stale, it seemed his granddaughter had found something despite the distance. The printed account of his eldest son's escapades was recent as well – the date when this book was created from the press was only a month old.
The words in the dedication section pierced his heart and made his tear ducts work for a little while.
To my beloved family.
[-was Gerald even included in that-?]
There was another split of paper that flew out when he started to read the prelude. In Maria's handwriting were the words: Thought you would love this. The next personal cargo shipment isn't until October, so for now, pretend I never gave this to you! I totally didn't sneak around and asked one of the researchers to let me use some of their reserved weight limit! This was supposed to be another 6 rolls of toilet paper! Shhh! :)
P.S. When we go back home, let's go on an adventure together, too!
There was the sound of something… small.
Oh. It seemed that water had leaked again.
It was ruining the paper.
[x]
Dr. Guzman, the head of the biomedical department within the ARK, was hovering around her coworkers with a pained expression. Possibly disappointed. "I am now starting to hear the words 'September 26th' in my time off as well. It's getting rather ridiculous." Her mutter matched the nastiness of those bags under her eyes.
The elder of the four continued to write. "Strict timelines are inconvenient. Nevertheless, how goes the analysis of the data from Shadow's embryotic stage?"
There was no room for debate. Tower, to his credit, was the most adaptable of the other trio in the main lab. "We managed to index all of the required drum memories from storage, but the main computer processer is having issue compiling the data." A frown. "It keeps… crashing."
"What we need is a computer specialist that isn't you, Dr. Robotnik," Yadev added carefully. "The total came out to 3,012,589 KILObytes. That's 33,900 drums. The ARK is a marvel, indeed, but it wasn't expected to compile those sheer numbers within a singular month."
There was a reason why Project: SHADOW took years just to get to this point. Gerald was aware he was asking the impossible, but hadn't he already created one? "Then we will prioritize the drums that carry information about the larva and hide them first." He pointed to his department head once again. "That will be your job. When we show off Shadow, any evidence of that needs to be as if it was never in the genome in the first place. We can deal with his true genetic signature later. Emergency finances first."
For the past two and a half weeks, the head of the station had been creating a "new 2.018." It had to be read as 'normal' – or as normal as one Mobian-Chaos infused entity could be with copious amounts of genome manipulation. G.U.N. was going to ask for this data at some point, and he wanted the record of "2.018" to be claimed as a prototype – weaker than the Biolizard but able to sense Chaos. That way, the military will see that Gerald was on 'the right path' for their weapon. It was just a shame that "2.018" was too weak to be what they wanted. However, he was stable, so, obviously, a better choice than the previous failure. Instead, "2.018" was to be the perfect bridge to build series 3 upon – one that'll never come.
G.U.N. would have their showcase, and he would outplay them. They wanted to see Shadow? Fine. He'll give them the version of the Project that was guaranteed to produce fiscal results for Maria.
He… understood that it was technically still breaking his promise, but he couldn't let the ARK go without. The station was designed with unparalleled engineering and could hang in the space between Earth and the moon without problem. It had machines, drones, and artificial, controllable water [for goodness' sake] that could automate all repairs that didn't need Gerald's immediate interjection. There were recycling facilities where broken or destroyed matter could be reformed back into usable goods. Botanical gardens allowed fresh produce [as that department researched how to increase shelf life of food for the world below].
In theory, the ARK didn't need more funding.
That was the power of the technical, wasn't it? Because the ARK wasn't perfect: if the forge was damaged, there went the ability to repair. In fact, despite robots doing the work, the sheer scale of the planetoid didn't allow quick, nor efficient, recovery without outside help. Products like dairy, fruit from trees, or anything that demanded meat had to be transported. Produce, such as a lettuce, took far less water, energy, and physical space than a single slice of beef – and no one [save Shadow] could continue existence off just that. If the ARK had been designed as a genuine separate place to live, then the self-sustaining food farms would have been the biggest chunk of the complex – rather than the area dedicated to weapons and the military.
… Without money, there would be no more expensive medical treatments or chemicals from the surface to work on Maria's body while awaiting the cure. There wouldn't be enough materials to keep her frail form going on long enough to confirm that a sentient Shadow could be the solution. Not to mention the ARK was funded by G.U.N. in the first place – they had all the materials required to force it to be shut down and order Robotnik to return back to Earth. It would be a death sentence.
He rubbed his temples. Then there was also the age issue: she was getting older, as was he. If Gerald died, had a stroke, went senile, or a torrent of other things, before she could be saved-!
The trio coughed to get his attention.
He scowled. Cursed distractions. "I will go check out the server and mainframe floors. We can't add more scientists to our small posse, as the youth say."
Yadev issued a small nod. Noticing that his boss was about to leave, he reached out his hand. "Ah, Doctor Robotnik. How… how is He?"
Stillness from the others. The energy scientist had spoken what they all wanted to know, but were smart enough to not utter.
"Shadow, the person, is fine. You'll see him in late September."
[That man was the most taken in to the idea of the Ultimate Lifeform, and Yadev wanted to know more about the dangerous secrets in those eyes – eyes, that individual claimed, that were aware about things aside 'just a new life aboard the station' – eyes that knew 'so much more…']
[x]
Complex formulas of Mobian genomes, Chaos Drive integration, Emerald radiation bombardment, and embryotic fluid were hidden behind the dull, pulsing screens. The server sections of everything accomplished on the station took a whole quarter of the ARK, lodged under sight. It was the Project's endless lines of data whose digital signatures were stored in an entire subfloor within the server region. The cable and data lines that ran everything were hundreds upon hundreds of miles long, even. Each drum memory was as large as Maria's head! It made sense as to why, too: this was all the information one needed about Project: SHADOW, lizards and all.
The date was 7Sep – 8Sep in three hours – and he had been preparing everything for what he nasally called 'The Great Farce." It was a fitting name for the event sponsored by G.U.N.. Alas, without Shadow's golden aura to sustain him, he had fallen back into the need to sleep more often. It was a bit aggravating as to why he was put into that position in the first place [kudos of those he was hired by], but he supposed that was the nature of bad relationships. The deal with the military was not nearly as negative as the one with them, certainly, but the more and more he heard about this new Commander of the ARK, the less and less control he felt over his own structure.
She had started to pull in new shipments from Earth during the last prime orbital slot. One arrived this morning.
But of what? The manifest he managed to find only had the label: 'required.'
His musing was cut off by a 'beep' as his search program displayed the results: PSUL 32 2E 30 31 38 2D 42 44 DATA – LAST UPDATED 34 4A 75 6C.
He drummed his fingers at the keyboard at that. It seemed he discovered the reason why the computer was unable to digest or compile anything upstairs. The exact same error occurred even down here… The years upon years of critical work all existed, except for anything related to the last of the specimens – that of Shadow. The only [known] evidence of his very creation were the paper versions he had given to his subordinates, where they were locked deep within vaults of random locations.
Except… he didn't corrupt the drum memories of the items that had once housed "2.018."
Was it Maria?
He thought about her actions as he climbed to the drum's physical location.
She was very protective of the Project, but did she know about this room? Well, specifically, which server rack carried the brown tapes that held every iota of datum? Because the damage done was very precise: like a nail went in and elongated or reset'd each byte. It made anyone looking for additional information run into a dead end. That, in of itself, was a good thing… In theory.
Hah… Theory.
Because Gerald was about to destroy only certain elements within the records himself and didn't get to as it all was corrupted…
… Would she admit it if he asked?
[Wasn't that a sore idea?]
He sighed. While a good job at preventing others from reading and copying for nefarious means, it didn't remove the fact that there was clear evidence of being tampered. Gerald was going to have to type a whole new genome sequence based of 2.017 and make a faux stamp mark for Shadow. He needed some proof about "2.018's" existence, even if the embryo was a completely different DNA code than the current one.
Oh, Ancients, did he have enough time to pull that off?
From scratch?
Maria… I wish you would have told me before you did this! It wasn't often – in fact, RARE – he was genuinely upset with her, but…!
This was… still recoverable. He'll just… copy 2.017 and edit pieces instead. No full rewrite. He was [unofficially] G.U.N.'s best scientist and quite possibly the only one in the short term that could read data enough to know "2.018's" was a mismatch clerical error. No need to panic-
A pencil, pale yellow in the bright lights, smacked his face. His grip had lessened on the writing utensil in his fidgeting. Carefully, he reached down and took a note at how small and worn it was by the sharpening he had accomplished earlier. At some point soon, he would need to throw it away – his right hand was starting to get cramps-
… What if it wasn't her…?
[x]
The walk back towards the observatory room was simple and easy enough. The ARK was bustling – too busy for almost midnight. Many of the researchers that were not associated with Project: SHADOW [of which there were a decent amount to sell the lie that the station was completely without illicit weapons manufacturing] scampered away upon seeing their boss stalk the halls. Polite and demure, they kept their gazes away from him.
The scientist rubbed his chin before going after the one that looked the most nervous. That meant a weak mental constitution, which were the types of individuals easiest to steal information out from. Quickly, Gerald glanced at the common access card upon the victim's upper left chest: the color and markings shouting that this person was from the botanical wing. "What seems to be the source of the commotion?"
A scared mutter of 'oh my sucrose, he's talking to me' left the verbal dam. This adult was about twenty or twenty-five, with none of the accolades compared to the one addressing him. "D-Dr. Robotnik!" he saluted-
Saluted?
"It's an honor to meet you! I am First Lieutenant Enes!" That hand went back down. "O! Right. Apologies. I'm basically conditioned to raise my hand to my superiors – forgot you're a civilian, doctor! Doesn't mean I don't respect you! Your ARK is amazing-!" A painful, nervous expression vomited from his face – horror at the lack of veneration he just spoke. "Ahem. Anyways, I'm the new assistant to the Department of Botanical Interests' also new Chief of Staff...'s assistant."
It appears he wasn't going to be able to eat a cold dinner tonight. "I was unaware that area required recent turnover."
The words fluttered. Unlike two others he knew, though, this person gave Gerald vibes of genuine nervousness. "I'm not quite sure as I haven't been briefed, yet. G.U.N. tells me where I'm stationed next and I just follow. However, me and my buddies – err, coworkers – all just got here yesterday. We're just about to get our bags and settle in. We're from over the ocean, so it's morning for us, internally, sir!"
So, the military was sending more assets to the ARK?
Gerald continued to rub his face, almost pulling at his mustache. Was this a hint that the Major General had already thought Project: SHADOW deserved another year's worth of manning and supplies? In advance? Or were they here to shut everything down? The 'closers,' if you will.
First Lieutenants were the equivalent of Airman, so it wasn't like he was going to get answers from this person. He also had a feeling anyone high enough to give Gerald what he wanted wouldn't speak, either.
This game was long since old.
[x]
Alizarin turned to meet Gerald directly when the scientist broke into the observatory. By now, he was used to that gaze, but something in his must have notified Shadow he needed attention. "Professor," the hedgehog had spoken with ever-awareness of the sleeping girl, "is something troubling you?"
"Yes, actually." Better to be honest in this case. "I need Maria to wake up."
"Acknowledged." With that, the boy slipped underneath the covers. [Zero hesitation – so much loyalty-]
Whispered, hushed words were exchanged about silly things – mostly from his granddaughter's side. Something about fishing? Whatever the short conversation was, soon enough, the Project did what was asked. Maria's face popped out of the tent's large flaps – tired, exhausted, but happy. "Night, Grandpa," she fought against a yawn. "Or is it morning already?" Blonde hair was stuck in an uncombed mess. "Am I late for class?"
"No to all of that, I am afraid." Gerald walked the distance and squatted down. The pain in his knees was new, but he wanted to see her expression of trustworthiness – she was not a good liar. [Was that something she was even capable of?] This also gave a better look at the Project's facial expression as well. Odds were if Maria was involved, the boy was, too. "Maria Robotnik, I am about to ask you a very serious question. As such, I want you to give me nothing more than an honest and serious answer. Understand?"
That woke her up. Her blue eyes roamed her grandfather's face with reckless abandon and slight fear.
"There's no alarms," Shadow commented softly.
She nodded. Swallowed. Rubbed the back of her neck. Then, she gave another hard look at her relative. "Was it the pancake explosion in the other room? I told Shadow to clean up the batter from the ceiling, but he only remarked that it was my fault for confusing the baking soda with sugar, so my responsibility – only, I don't own a ladder here, so-"
He brought his right hand up and placed it on his precious' shoulder. "Not that."
Confusion. "'Not… that?'" The girl turned towards Shadow, who was watching her very carefully. "You didn't… do anything, did you?"
White gloved hands rose and waved in denial. "I've been here all night."
"No lizard snacks?"
"None."
[Snacks? Don't tell him that Shadow was going to the kitchen to get food. There were cameras down that route! Had not the scientist told the boy to tell the other two if he ever felt the desire to consume-?]
"No on that, either, Professor."
Gerald must have had that thought all over his face. The tone was filled with an iron will that the adult had to accept. Nevertheless, he moved on. "Maria. Tell me truthfully. Scrupulously. Did you break into the server section of the ARK – with or without Shadow – and corrupted anything dealing with the records of 'PSUL2.018-BD?'"
The girl blinked, taken aback. Her eyes narrowed as she turned sharply to the ebony mass besides her. "How about that-?"
Quills moved harshly. "Absolutely not. My skills with computers are unpolished even if I had that idea."
Maria returned to Gerald. "N-No. I didn't do anything around there. I also don't know much about computers, either, Grandpa…" Her voice trailed off; each passing word that she had spoken got smaller and weaker and… filled with more and more nerves. "I didn't e-even know you h-had a server room filled with anything dealing with S-Shadow." Her hand went into a fist and punched her own leg. "Why didn't I think of that?!"
If Robotnik had eaten dinner, it would have come up. As it was, bile was already in his mouth; washed against his teeth.
She didn't do it.
Maria didn't do it.
Who did?
WHO DID?!
His thoughts scrambled. A list of culprits rose: Yadev? Tower? Guzman? All were capable of entering the room, but they also had access cards that required Gerald's direct approval to do so. He would have been notified – not to mention, they would have told him as well, being as enamored to the Project as they were. Also, their motives were different than Maria's would have been – they were skilled enough to understand how much harder it would be for "The Great Farce" if they had completely and utterly ruined anything related to "2.018!"
["-this is bad-"]
Another list: that Airman? Impossible. That creepy individual was locked away in floor seventeen at least until November. That was the estimate for the recovery of the floor. He had also accessed the files for Sean Casey prior – they were all the records of a person with security details, not anything remotely electronic.
But what if those records themselves were falsified?
["-a panic attack-"]
A conundrum. However, the physical training that Airman had was also apparent. That took time to develop, right? And for a physical body to have muscles meant dedication. Not a computer wizard – oh, yes. Gerald could be wrong. Technically, someone could exercise while reading a book about punched cards, but-
Suspect 1.
Another list: the Major General. Being the Commander of the military side of the ARK gifted her extended privileges. Project: SHADOW was G.U.N.'s – per the agreement, Gerald was to only receive the medical benefits, and the President his cup of immortality. [NO, he was NOT going to think about whom he had technically sold away right now-!] Nothing good would have come from locking out the military from the very thing they were funding; in fact, Gerald had been open about his results until Maria made him promise.
… But the Commander also had no experience in drum memories.
Right?
Suspect 2.
WHO? WHAT? HOW?
["-get answer of this, immediately, for him-"]
["-new variables not from us-"]
Suddenly, there was the grip of steel on his shoulder, almost to the point of summoning genuine pain. Gerald didn't even have the chance to turn to see what caused it before-
His stomach, already on the bleeding edge, curled inwards to itself; acid seemed to flush every inch of his nerves. Fire from everywhere and everything fueled this sudden feeling – a knowledge that he was no longer in a room amidst the stars.
Rather, he was in a field of jade.
That was when the squeezing started. He was being pulled at his epidermis! Felt his limbs began to detach from their sockets as he was atomized! All at once he was on Earth, in a city, in an apartment, in a house, in a lab; so-on-and-so forth. They went by in blurs of moments so fast his genius wasn't able to even PROCESS-!
And then he was being pulled away from it all! Down into a spiraling pit that appeared below his fragmented sense of self: a black void with a white, burning edge of heat that swiftly cooled into cadmium-!
"-I'm gonna be sick," moaned a young girl.
Gerald already was.
Fingers curled on the harsh, grated floor.
White lab coat no longer pristine.
Haggard gasps to intake air.
When he came to realization that he wasn't paste that had been grinded into… wherever THAT was, his brain caught up that he was in the ARK's server room.
Shadow didn't say anything.
Instead, the Project was looking at the screen where a muted notification blinked – had that been missed on the scientist's last visitation? The light coming from the device drowned all the onlookers in soft blues – made the boy appear like nothing but carbon and purple. Upon the monitor, data spilled in a strange layout of a letters, a line, numbers, and then another line. It was repetition:
PSUL 32 2E 30 31 38 2D 42 44 DATA – LAST UPDATED 34 4A 75 6C
01010111 01100101 00100000 01100100 01101001 01100100 00100000 01110111 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01001001 01110100 00100000 01110111 01100001 01101110 01110100 01100101 01100100 00101100 00100000 01000110 01100001 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 00101110 00100000 01000010 01110101 01110100 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110111 00100000 01110111 01100101 00100000 01100001 01101100 01110011 01101111 00100000 01110111 01100001 01101110 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110011 01100101 01100101 00100000 01001001 01110100 00101110 00100000 01001100 01100101 01110100 00100000 01110101 01110011 00100000 01110011 01100101 01100101 00101110 00100000 01001100 01100101 01110100 00100000 01110101 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101111 01110101 01100011 01101000 00101110 00100000 01001100 01100101 01110100 00100000 01110101 01110011 00100000 01100001 01100100 01101101 01101001 01110010 01100101 00101110
Inhibitor Rings reflected that blue into a viridian. The hand gesture was one of asking for advice. "Does this mean anything to you, Professor?" the Project's voice questioned.
Saliva was stuck on his tongue. "How did we get here?" Gerald asked instead.
The 'Mobian' tensed up. Each fur and spindle upon his body straightened, and those wings of his uncurled into knives. "Again. Does this make any sense? Is it G.U.N.? Do they know?"
"Shadow! Be careful-!"
There was a spark and crackle as a Chaos Energy rail nearby sprung a small leak. Automated responses closed it before anything could get worse – the kind of minor damage the system was designed to handle and deal with.
Ears pulled back and flattened against a skull; plumage limped. "… I didn't mean to do that."
Maria shook her head, but didn't comment much further. Instead, she turned to face her grandfather, holding her hands close together by her chest. "Grandpa. The monitor… looks like a sort of code?" she offered.
Red and blue locked onto spectacles.
"Binary," Gerald eventually gasped out. "It's binary." He patted himself, still in a daze at what he witnessed – experienced. "I don't have my paper or writing utensil with me-"
He was cut off by a sudden light. Like thunder. Like reality churned into distortion.
A flash of cyan. And white.
Twice.
Shadow was there.
Then he wasn't.
And then… he was there again.
Hand stretched out, offering the notebook and pencil Gerald had dropped in the observatory room.