Aeris

It's hard to feel alive in a lifeless place.

I miss the slums. At least in the slums there are people, their intricate strife everywhere, delicate and honest in its struggle towards the light. The light here is sterile and I'm held in isolation, even from the other residents and workers I can sometimes hear through the walls. Hojo's assistants took a number of blood samples from me within the first few days of my imprisonment, but, other than that I've been left nearly completely alone.

Tseng has come to see me only a few times. It's difficult not to look forward to any visit from a familiar face however angry I am at its owner. The first I saw of him was when they'd moved me from the cells to a vacant apartment on a lower floor—locked from the outside, a more comfortable prison to accommodate a longer imprisonment. He'd brought a bag with him, and I recognised it immediately as one of Elmyra's. His demeanour was professional as usual but I could tell he was somehow uneasy. Yet, he'd still kidnaped me, delivered me here.

—"I've brought you some things from home."—

He'd paused, maybe he was unsure if I would say something. I hadn't.

—"Hojo will be away for at least a number of months... Consider cooperating. I can help you if you cooperate."—

Cooperation had not been on my mind.

—"He mentioned something... about my Father. Is my father alive? How?—Where is he?"—

If you want to help, show it, I'd thought. But it was his turn to ignore me, and that had been my answer.

The apartment is very nice in a neutral kind of way—by which I mean that it's large and everything in it is also large. I had to adjust various things to accommodate my size. An entire side of the wall is lined with full length shuttered windows. For a moment I'd been genuinely excited. It was short lived though, someone had killed power to the switch that opened them.

I had felt pretty peeved at that. What was I going to do? Scale the outside of the Shinra building from the fifty-eighth floor? It would have been amazing to be able to have seen the sky, the stars... It could have been a constant source of inspiration. Instead the shutters mock me every day with their petty cruelty.

I'd thought about Zack a lot. That day he'd landed in my life, my horizons had broadened—not only to the upper plate, but to the tentative fantasy of one day seeing what lay beyond Midgar.

He could be a bit silly—definitely a flirt. But these things were completely charming because he was so full of confidence, earnest dreams, and enthusiasm. Some were qualities we shared to some extent. But, for me they were somewhat tempered by caution learned from years of hiding—hibernating maybe...waiting for...opportunity—for whatever it was that the world blew through my door, or dropped through my roof.

Could he help me now? In an intuitive way it didn't feel far fetched. If there was one thing Zack embodied more to me than any other it was freedom. But, realistically? What could he do? He was just a SOLDIER. He didn't know where—or even what—I was... Would he even still like me if he did? It had been over half a year since I'd last seen him, each of my letters swallowed up into the unknown with no response. The short time we'd spent together had almost felt like cheating. Playing a game I wasn't sure I was eligible for. Maybe I was the one who was truly silly... And these were silly thoughts! ...But I couldn't help them coming, my predicament aggravated such things.

I'd think often of Elmyra too. The things Tseng brought had no doubt been chosen by her. Some clothing and amenities, a couple items of sentimental value, some seeds, a heartfelt letter—now read hundreds of times. I'm sure he must have endured quite a lot of abuse to pick them up for me. I can't honestly say I pity him, even though I also can't help feeling the gratitude I refuse to show him.

I miss her.

Occasionally they let me go to the gym on the sixty-fourth floor, or rarer still, the cafeteria on sixty-first. Supervised only. I'd managed to convince one of my guards to get me some pots and soil after consistent pestering—whoever gets the privilege of escorting me always gets their ear talked off. Days without any company seem to have that effect on me.

Motherly intuition is a mysterious thing. What had seemed like Elmyra's most absurd choice of gift became the most precious to me. It has been an interesting experience trying to get the seeds to grow in indoor lighting. Through trial and error I've found ways to optimise the less than ideal, and grown to understand which artificial lights are best.

Thoughts of professor Hojo's strange comments about my biological Father are another fixation that circles my solitary mind. I've tried to find him in the lifestream before... but I never could. I always thought that maybe it was because I never really knew him—my Mother never spoke about him much. The image I have of him is limited to memories of her sad withdrawals and assurances of love. I was only seven when she'd died, taking those secrets with her.

I always trusted that she'd told me everything I needed to know—That my Father had loved me, and that he had not abandoned us... But now, to learn that he is alive... It awakens so many sleeping questions. Who was he? Where has he been? What is he doing now? Why hasn't he come for me—in all these years? Why does Professor Hojo seem to hate him so much?

Perhaps it was all just a cruel lie, but I can't see the use of such a fiction—And I couldn't help feeling that Hojo's dislike of him had fuelled the nasty spirit with which the professor had toyed with me.

—"Tell me, how is it for you? To be neither one nor the other?"—

It had always been much easier to notice the ways in which I was different to everyone around me. But I yearned to be a part of humanity just as much as I yearned to be with my mother again. I've never known what to make of my strange suspension between those poles. So, I make of it everything that I can. If it is to be limited, it seems pretty absurd to let my attitude be a part of that limitation.

I really do long to be amongst people again, their quirks, their dreams, their trials—I like to be a part of it all, through a little playful prodding or... a touch of unsolicited generosity. It's my favourite game—not that I'm trivialising it! Not at all, I'm only trying to describe a... disconnect I experience for being... as I am. And so I find I am fascinated by the link to humanity that my father represents. What kind of person is he? Am I like him in any ways...?

The second time Tseng came to visit was a few weeks ago, on my eighteenth birthday—a right of passage that certainly highlighted to me the severity of the turn my life had taken. He'd seemed somewhat rushed. He probably had other demands on his time. I know he hates using it inefficiency.

—"Have you given any more consideration to our collaboration?"—

The truth was that I hadn't. Of all my topics of isolated reflection I had avoided that one the most determinedly. I found myself answering him with a perplexed head shake.

—"Hojo will be returning soon, if you fight this, the board will likely sanction more forceful methods to secure your assistance. You are running out of time Aeris."—

Tseng doesn't call me by my name often. His tone had been so firm and paternally disappointed that I almost nodded in acknowledgement. I do have some idea of what's in store for me, and Tseng does care in a bizarre way.

Just not as much as he cares about his job.

I'd had to stop myself from shouting at him, or bombarding him with more questions—I know him well, and both would have been less than fruitless. So instead I addressed him l calmly, and with earnestly. I wasn't really talking to him directly so much as planting another seed in the vain hope it might take root. Tseng never does anything frivolous or unplanned.

—"Let me go. There is a SOLDIER called Zack Fair, he could take me far away, somewhere safe. Get me to him... somehow."—

He reproached me—as I expected, but he'd heard me, and that was all I'd really hoped. He left me with a new letter from Elmyra, and another sinister warning.

—"Don't think they'll be above bringing her into this."—

The letter was full of concern for my wellness, birthday wishes, details of her life since my abduction, sentiments of care and kindness... But Tseng's words had cast an ominous shadow of worry over the relief I might have otherwise felt from reading it.

I've tried to reach out to the planet, for comfort and guidance at times, but it's difficult to feel here. When I do it's full of discordance. It's... hard to describe. I've tried to listen for my mother, but I can't find her within that awful, disorienting chaos.

In my darkest moments... It's embarrassing but—I've been glad of the shutters on the windows. Sometimes the world is just too big as it is, and I think the sky would only devour me completely.

Any day now Hojo will return. I will not help him Cannot. If there is one aspect of myself that is absolutely clear to me it is that I will have no part in this gluttony I can hear ringing through my being whenever I stop to listen.