Kevin Shiue It's Evangelion, and it's a short sketch. You should have watched to episode 22 to know what's going on. Any more will spoil it. Yours, Kevin Shiue | The past is a crystal clear shiue@andrew.cmu.edu | Mirror of our furthest faults, http://www.andrew.cmu.edu/~shiue | Yet, turning back, is flawed, | As only the future can be altered. Reflections of Old by Kevin Shiue 6/24/98 And the young woman sat, wondering if there was afterlife, as she composed her diary. "Today was a good day," she wrote, black, curved, bubbly characters gracing the page, "plans were fullfilled." she continued, wondering, as a darkness filtered through her rickety mind, a seed of uncommon conscience, as she reminded herself of the evil she did. She pondered the possibility of the destruction, mutilation, of a person's soul, knowing full well she had succeeded, and tittered in her own dark recesses of her mind. The obstacles had been removed, the stone in the field moved, so that she no longer revolved around the world. It was her turn to win the affection she so sought. The pitch black indifference in her heart went unnoticed, lost in the revelled celebration of freedom from shadow, encased in brightness, a brightness false, as the rescinded shadow of the enemy left. She continued to write, ranting on the pages, shouting to the invisible world her project, her desires, her goal, her victory. I am justified, she thought, as her right hand slammed down the cover of her notepad, and left hand flung the pen to the side of the desk, all with one motion, and the pen rolled. It skidded and rolled and bounced, and missed the garbage can on the other side of the desk. Not that she intended to hit it. She stood, and thought. She only thought she was young, but in reality, the cynicism of life had drained from her the optimism of youth. She rose, somewhat haphazardly, from the swivel lab chair, and walked, with her coffee mug, toward the exit of the facility. She took a long sip, noted it was cold, and cringed, her face highlighting the crows-feet, the shape and color of disgust, as she continued her mental journey of discovery and her physical journey up to the world of light. Her daughter would be asleep by now, perhaps. Her daughter would soon know of these dark secrets, but there was time, yet, and her daughter would soon understand. -- And the young man sat, wondering if there was afterlife, as he bemoaned his great loss. His soulmate had disappeared for certain. Originally, his heart was not focused on the person, only the plan, but during the five years he had cherished his son, his wife, and their work, feelings had come closer. One hand met the other in front of him, slender fingers curling, intertwined, like the fate of the world, as his head lowered, and perhaps the first time since he was a small child, he wept, a slow, anguished, tears of loss of a precious piece of heart, gone, with the passing of that one. It was also his fault, for not being more cautious, for not taking more precautions, and ordering more tests. So it was his loss. Yet, the project required human test subjects, this could not be avoided, and already, many had lost their lives- this, could not be avoided either, but none of these people would return, and he was now in the same class as all the others who lost loved ones. It was now one full month after the tragedy, that his emotions surfaced, but even now, it was the slow rising of a heavy bubble in viscous fluid, slowing pushing its way to the surface, rising to pop, and splash the realm of feeling in its face. But before, he was preoccupied with recovery, not until now did he accept that she was gone. He brought one hand to his face, and pushed up his slipping eye-glasses, and sat back into the swivel chair in his office, swaying back and forth for a moment, and pausing. Tilted back, he looked, and studied the engravings on the office ceiling, hands folded, restfully on his stomach, feet extended forward, crossed, his entire body resting, as he sighed. His heart was not resting, beating rapidly, as his mind escalated the depression that was hitting him. Last of his tears fell from his cheek to the floor, disturbing the otherwise immaculate surface. His son would be asleep by now, perhaps. His son would soon know these dark secrets, but there was time, yet, and his son would soon understand. -- And the young woman floated, wondering if this was afterlife, as she tried desperately to grasp the reality that she knew was real. This was not real, not truth, as she looked about at her condition and finding nothing there. Her soul was free, free to contemplate the meaning of life, death, and yet, even as she transcended life and death, she left behind a son, an attachment to the physical world. It was her duty to protect and raise him, and now her goal could no longer be achieved. A machine that played God, _that_ was what she was involved with.. And now she was on a close par. Yet, with this newfound power of control of this beast, she was prisoner, for eternity.