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black box draft
INDEX TARGET POINT: SHINJI IKARI
Presented below are depictions of violence, body horror, and suicide.
SESSION 1 (DAY 71)
[Somehow, this isn’t unexpected. Maybe it’s because he’s faced this scene before, and so it only makes him think, This again.
He’s in the bowels of Terminal Dogma, in its most secret and sinister parts. Kaworu hovers above the lake of LCL; everything smells like blood, like home, like childhood. He’d been looking for his mother, but she isn’t here. He’s been tricked. He’s been used for fifteen disingenuous years, an abomination turned puppet by human men. So he waits for Shinji to come crashing after him.
Be embraced, you millions!
Evangelion Unit 01 bursts onto the scene. Her great hand grabs him. Even though she’s just a proxy, Kaworu can feel every wretched thing that shocks through Shinji’s nerves right now. He stays very still in the center of Eva’s fist, and with neat words, he says his piece.]
Kaworu-kun, why?
[…Yes, why? There’s only one way this can end. He doesn’t even consider lashing out with his A.T. Field.
This kiss is for the entire world!
Kaworu’s smiling. He knows exactly what the CDC wants for him to do, and it’s ridiculous.]
I would prefer to die here, [he says gently. Shinji is less gentle and more pleading when he says that he doesn’t understand. Kaworu-kun, he begs softly. Kaworu’s features are just too adoring, even when he instructs Shinji to go ahead and end his life. He tilts his head back, though it’s only a visual confirmation of what he can feel: Rei Ayanami stands high above. Her eyes are so like his own; her soul is the same sort of ancient mother. Lilith, he wonders, how do you judge me? Still he smiles. These shouldn’t be fond memories, but… My life was meaningful, he tells Shinji, because of you.
There is NOTHING ELSE. The CDC is just going to have to deal with that. Kaworu keeps smiling. Unit 01 squeezes tight.
SESSION FAILED]
—
[He’d gone in thinking, I can do this. He comes out whiter than usual, his thick blood fleeing from his face. Kaworu didn’t feel cold when he walked with bare feet across the dusty face of Earth’s moon, but right now, everything is icy. When he brings his hand to rest over his eyes, he perceives a tremor.
Better yourself to be better for him.]
—
SESSION 2 (DAY 72)
[He’s been thinking about Black Box all night. And before that, too. Every moment since that first failure. Though it wasn’t really his first failure, was it? He fit in Eva’s hand so well. It’s something he’d once been resigned to. Yesterday was just another notch on his stone tablet, another כִּשָׁלוֹן elongating the Epistle of his defects.
Better yourself to be better for him.
He arrives early in the morning. He steps inside. This second simulation gives him something familiar again. It’s sunset, and everything is the gold of poppies. The sea is greedy for the shore. Kaworu is greedy for success. In the honey haze of evening, Shinji’s eyes are the only blue that matters. The encroaching night sky isn’t even in the same league.
Usually, during a scene like this, Shinji blushes right along with the sun. During this false fall of night, he’s just cold. They don’t exchange words or hearts, this time. Even if he tried, Kaworu wouldn’t be able to get the first few notes of Ode to Joy out before Shinji starts to strangle him.
Kaworu doesn’t need to breathe, although his throat works underneath the heel of Shinji’s palm. Even if he intended to save himself, his A.T. Field would frankly be unnecessary; Shinji can choke the breath out of him, but not the life. He can get along fine without gulping in the seafront air. But then Shinji’s hands are beastly in the way a man’s can be, forsaking the composure of the Fruit of Knowledge for the most primal parts of the soul. He is so much smaller than Eva, but maybe stronger. As the sunlight fades further away, Shinji seems composed by Bernini himself, marble and bronze and violence, Anima Dannata in motion. He’s both pushing and pulling. (But didn’t it start out that way?) And it hurts, but it just doesn’t matter. Shinji is entitled to any part of him. His throat — the weakness of his spinal column — his hands are loose and twitching at his sides, though he wants to touch the tight tendons in Shinji’s wrists. Shinji pries and twists. He means to rend. And when he does rend—
SESSION FAILED]
—
[Better yourself to be better for him.
He barely waits before going back in.]
—
SESSION 3 (DAY 72)
[The third attempt isn’t quite so predictable. Kaworu is greeted by his own soft laughter, watery and youthful. The lights are dim, and everything is awash in sickly orange. The room is wide and circular, and lined at the walls by a continuous glass tank. The tank is filled with LCL, as well as dozens of bodies.
They’re all Tabris. They aren’t Kaworu — Kaworu has both Tabris’ body and Adam’s soul. These beings have no souls at all. They’re the flesh of his flesh in the most literal sense. They’re just containers, and they’re even more of an abomination than he is. Their bodies are each a hollow vertebra in SEELE’s plan, forming the backbone of the Dummy System: it’s a collection of limbs and devastating instincts, creating the most efficient way to pilot Evangelions en masse. They mark Kaworu himself as ultimately expendable. Were he to defy SEELE too early in the game, any of them would make suitable backups. Few fates would be worse. To Tabris, to Kaworu, who values free will so highly, being stripped of his autonomy, losing access to his personality…
…just isn’t an option.
In the center of the room is a long vertical tube, also full of LCL. That thing is like home, in the worst way. It was Tabris’ dwelling place for a very long time. Even during the creation of his Dummy System, he was made to frequent this place. Kaworu looks at it now with a secret bitterness. The oxygen outside of Lilith’s blood is so much better.
Though the lighting is low, it gives the glass tube a sheen. In it, Kaworu can discern a reflection. Considering the situation, it’s not surprising to see Shinji here, but Kaworu prickles with an uncomfortable heat from his ears to the dip at his clavicle. Shame, he realizes. He doesn’t want Shinji to see these heinous things.]
Hey, [he says, warm and upset, as he turns to face Shinji. They’re not very far apart, which is always a relief, even when Kaworu’s losing. Almost smiling, at least for Shinji’s sake, Kaworu expects the other boy to lunge, but Shinji doesn’t clutch at him this time. In his hand, instead, is a small control pad. Its orange list of units looks clinical. Its red coded commands look alarming. Shinji’s thumb hovers above that anxious red, while the languid clones sway like white sea grass.]
Kaworu-kun, [Shinji says, and the clones snap to attention. They look at once both listless and delighted, and, twittering, they drift slowly towards the glass, pressing their bare skin against it where they can. Kaworu should extend his A.T. Field. He should knock the control pad away. He should…
But he doesn’t, and Shinji thumbs the command: DESTRUDO RELEASE. The bodies in the tank are still murmuring their laughter as their limbs sluggishly break away and sink. They’re completely falling apart, and they look so glad about it. Kaworu turns his eyes away from their ruin and down towards his own hands, and finds the flesh of his fingers sagging off the bone. From the second knuckle down, his right middle finger drops off entirely. Well, it doesn’t hurt. If anything, he feels enveloped by something familiar. He looks back up at Shinji. On the control pad, at the top of the list:
TABRIS 001
The muscles in his legs are deteriorating. Kaworu has to laugh — helplessly, perhaps. Not hopelessly. There is always hope. No matter the circumstances. He gives Shinji an apologetic smile, and collapses into LCL.
SESSION FAILED]
—
[Better yourself to be better for him.]
—
SESSION 4 (DAY 72)
[This next one is just laughable. Maybe the Black Box is trying to make the decision easier. It seems to be encouraging him to do nothing more than change his previous choices, even though nothing good comes from replaying your painful memories. The simulation brings Kaworu into a white room with a red floor and a small bed, where Shinji is huddled. Kaworu knows the script here well.] I want you to trust me, [he says.]
I can’t, [Shinji moans.
The Black Box’s intentions here are obvious. It’s these next few actions which led to Kaworu’s most recent death. If he avoids them, he will live. If he avoids them, Shinji will die.
Kaworu steps forward until he can lower his weight onto the bed, kneeling behind Shinji, smoothing his hands over such shaky shoulders. He sets his fingers at each side of Shinji’s neck. The DSS choker is a black band created to collar Angels and dangerous beasts, and it’s been strangling Shinji towards fear and doubt and a bloody mess. Kaworu unlocks it deftly, and lifts it away from Shinji.] I’ll shoulder the burden. [He brings the choker up to his own neck, and it latches onto him.] No need to worry, [he says lightly.
It’s pointless for the simulation to continue. His choices have been tested, and later today, he’ll die. And so,
SESSION FAILED]
—
[Better yourself to be better for him.
Black Box won’t allow him to access the room for a fourth time that day. He goes to his room, methodically crunches his way through every single hard candy in his possession, and agonizes for the remaining length of hours.]
—
SESSION 5 (DAY 73)
[It’s early morning when he makes his next attempt. He’s bracing himself, not to do what “must” be done — it’s his perception that he is carrying out his responsibilities, all of which are to Shinji Ikari alone — but just to weather it. He’s been doing this, where “this” is “dying in favor of Shinji,” for a long time, and though he recoils from the reality of its toll, he’s exhausted. That’s with years between each death. To have so many in such a small amount of time… Honestly, he almost floats into the chamber, feeling too weak and heavy to lift his feet and move his legs. But he persists. There’s no other option for him.
When the simulation begins this time, there are cats winding around his ankles. There are so many cats. They’re all white, but they vary in size. Some aren’t even big enough to be weaned; others are senior catizens, hobbling a little, probably missing teeth. What could have been, perhaps. The Black Box really wants him to reconsider old mistakes, doesn’t it? Kaworu watches the crowding cats for a moment, and then looks around himself. Given the Box’s track record thus far, he’s unsurprised that it’s a place he knows. This time, it’s the skeleton of a place of worship, forsaken by time and slowly returning to nature. (Really? God? When Tabris was young, it was one of the stupidest things he’d ever heard. You expect him to believe that Man would worship God? Just look at what they did to his mother.) Whoever left this church also abandoned its piano. Kaworu could navigate the sea of cats and polish its bench and keys. He could sit and play the hymns that were meant to grace this place. Is that part of the script?
But the cats start to scatter, because someone’s walking through them. Kaworu thinks he won’t be alarmed when he turns to look; it’ll only be Shinji. And, of course, it is. But there’s something that whites out any amount of Kaworu’s composure. Shinji’s eyes are brown. Nothing good comes from replaying your painful memories. The Box really isn’t pulling its punches.
The cats are dropping dead when Shinji grabs Kaworu’s throat.] It’s fine, [Kaworu says.] Just, this time, don’t forget me, all right?
[SESSION FAILED]
—
[Better yourself to be better for him.]
*******NEXT COMMENT*******
SESSION 6 (DAY 73)
[The sixth attempt is immediately very cold. It doesn’t bother Kaworu, but he can perceive it. It isn’t cold like Ajna was; and there’s no temperature this low found anywhere on Earth. Kaworu knows exactly where he is.
It’s only dark until he hefts the lid of his coffin away: when he sits up, everything is bright and vast, all white and black and sun and stars. The lunar surface looks the same as ever, he thinks, while he turns his head slowly. Then he realizes that it doesn’t.
There are too many coffins. He was last here fourteen years ago, and even then, there were a great deal. A long line behind him were left empty, lids cast aside. An even longer line was before him (there is always hope, no matter the circumstances). But at that time, there were far fewer coffins without lids. Kaworu stares. What happened between then and now? How many times? How many times? How many times?
Naturally, Shinji shows up again, even though he shouldn’t be able to dwell here. He casts a long shadow over Kaworu, who is bare and lacking oxygen as he sits in his coffin. More curiously, Shinji holds a Lance of Longinus that’s small enough for him to use. Use for what, exactly? Kaworu fully expects to be impaled.
Instead, Shinji passes Kaworu and moves on to the next covered coffin. Kaworu is still as he watches Shinji push away its lid.] Shinji-kun, you shouldn’t do that, [he says, uneasy. He’s never pried open any coffins aside from the ones in which he woke. Doing that, he supposed, would just be damning himself more quickly. The Tabris inside would surely be premature.
Kaworu can’t see what’s inside, but Shinji spears it with the Lance.] Don’t, [Kaworu says, alarmed. He’s rearing back. If he fails again— If he fails again, what will he do next—
You really have to stop using that as a fallback.
Shinji moves to the next coffin, shoves its lid aside, and stabs the Lance into it. Stop him, something urges. Kaworu is gaping. It would be easy to stop him, so stop him. Next coffin. Shinji shoves the Lance inside.
Next coffin. Shinji shoves the Lance inside.
Next coffin. Shinji shoves the Lance inside.
Next coffin. Shinji shoves the Lance inside.
Next coffin. Shinji shoves the Lance inside.
Next coffin. Shinji shoves the Lance inside.
I guess you’re not going to do it. Kaworu can sense a very clinical disapproval. Next coffin.
SESSION FAILED]
[Better yourself to be better for him.]
—
SESSION 7 (DAY 73)
[His body is way too small. He can tell right away. Lights seem oddly bright, too, and the temperature of air against his skin seems foreign. It isn’t bad; he doesn’t dislike it. It’s just new.
There’s a man at a desk. It’s not very organized: there are lots of file folders and papers, many of them crooked and strewn. There’s also a little bonsai tree. The man seems so awfully familiar. Kaworu wants very much to be held by him. His caretakers touch him as infrequently as possible.
The man turns in his chair to look at Kaworu, and it’s with a warmth that feels as new as fluorescent light and lukewarm air.] There you are, [he says.] Why don’t you come here? [Kaworu obliges. His slippers make soft sounds against the floor. When he’s close enough, the man sets a hand on his had. He says,] Tabris, you’re a good boy.
[Am I really? Kaworu feels this creeping shame, and he averts his eyes, glancing to the side. At the edge of the room is something that shouldn’t be there.
At another desk sits Yui Ikari. Her little boy is standing in front of her, and her hand is on his head. She says,] Shinji, you’re a good boy. [Kaworu stares. Shinji looks happy— Shinji looks happy— Shinji looks happy— ]
Sorry, [the man tells him, smoothing down his hair.] It’s time to go back inside. [“Inside,” Kaworu knows, means the tube of LCL. Just leave. Incapacitate this man. Incapacitate everyone in your way. You can rise high above their heads. You can withstand all of their weapons. Flee to somewhere far away and bide your time. If you stay now, you will surely die.
Yui Ikari is lifting her son onto her lap. He’s smiling wide; he’s touching her face. Shinji looks happy.]
All right, [Kaworu says.] You can take me back now.
[SESSION FAILED]
—
[Better yourself to be better for him. Time’s up. He’ll come back tomorrow.]
—
SESSION 8 (DAY 74)
[It’s the worst thing, to be mindless. It’s the worst thing. It’s the worst thing. Then, why can’t Kaworu control his limbs? They’re moving, yes, but not of his accord. He’s sitting quietly in an entry plug. Even when he tries to speak, all he can do is work his jaw, and the LCL bubbles away from his throat. But he’s piloting Eva… Not Unit 13. He concentrates hard on perceiving his surroundings. It’s not Mark.06, either. It’s…
He can hear Shinji screaming. It’s the most visceral sound, ripped deep from his flimsy chest.] Asuka! Asuka! Asuka! [What now, about Second? Kaworu thinks vaguely. He focuses forward. Ah, it’s Unit 02, and Kaworu is assaulting it with no sense of mercy.
Now he’s alarmed. This isn’t Unit 13 and it’s not Mark.06, it’s… I shouldn’t be in this Unit, Kaworu thinks. They shouldn’t have put me here. The Mass Production Eva Series is piloted exclusively by the Dummy System. Their entry plugs read KAWORU. (Honestly, Kaworu would prefer they say Tabris. "Kaworu" has a mind and a soul and he spends every day binding his instincts in an iron chest. These things are despicable.) No, he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be tearing at Unit 02’s armor. Stop, he tries to will himself. Stop. But the Dummies don’t have any will to exert.
Shinji’s still screaming. His throat must be raw by now. Kaworu has the dim realization that Second tastes really good. It’s Eva’s mouth that’s gnawing at her, but Kaworu’s tongue feels it, too. Everything is red and red and red, and the deep purple of secret innards. Stop. Definitely stop. Stop right now. All he can do is gnash his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut so hard he sees stars.
He feels Eva turn away from Unit 02’s corpse, and wonders if he might dare to open his eyes. 02’s taste is ebbing from his mouth. He hopes he doesn’t start to drool. Eva lurches forward, and now Kaworu has to look. Not that, not that, not that— The Eva Series is hurling itself toward Shinji’s Unit 01. Shinji-kun, Kaworu thinks, perhaps more panicked than he’s ever been, and now Shinji is screeching that he needs help, he needs someone to help him, please, help him. He cries for Asuka and Ayanami and even Kaworu-kun. His voice is horrified and Kaworu is horrified.
He can hear a voice from SEELE personnel crackle into the cockpit. The Dummy Plug is malfunctioning. All at once, the Dummy’s arm is Kaworu’s. This isn’t going to happen. Eva convulses. This isn’t going to happen. He reaches for the most desperate switch. Even by force, this isn’t going to happen.
SEELE personnel is scrambling. Eva Unit is set to self destruct! The single hand Kaworu controls is trembling like mad. Stress and agony, of course, but also some of the deepest relief he’s felt before. This will be okay. With this, it will be all right.
SESSION FAILED]
—
[Better yourself to be better for him. As long as he has the will, right?]
—
SESSION 9 (DAY 74)
[Is this another place of worship? Kaworu stretches out his arm to look at his canvas skin. Right now it’s a patchwork of color, all filtered through beautiful glass. The stained windows are ornate and very clean. Their hues are enhanced by the sky: there’s no ceiling here, just an endless, dark concentric rainbow. It looks hungry.
Tabris is everywhere. He’s floating and shuffling and standing still. His hands are in his pockets, or tousling his hair, or polishing the windows. Most of all, he’s orange. Kaworu glances down at (the only proper) himself. He, singularly, is purple. He puts his hands in his pockets, too.
The first Tabris who notices him starts a domino effect. Hey, one says, and then, Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. They aren’t docile creatures like the backups used for the Dummy System. This Tabris hoard has feelings, and way too many of them. And they’re bitter. And they’re tired. (But they’re not as bitter or as tired as Kaworu.)
His hands are still in his pockets when they descend upon him. They’re a flock, they’re ruffled. They’re like pigeons. They have him on the ground almost instantly, and their knees are jabbing at him, their shoes are stepping on him, their hands are trying to pull him apart. They’re so frantic. My turn, cries one voice, and it sets them all off. My turn. My turn. My turn. My turn. Again, you’re no good. It shouldn’t be you. It should be me. It should be me. My turn.
I failed, he thinks, so you’re not really wrong. How many times? (How many times? (How many times?)) At this point, he really has no right to this quest. He’s poured all of himself into it, a thousand and ten thousand times, and it still hasn’t been enough. How does he deserve to see the sacred end after ruining it so many times? As long as it gets done, it doesn’t matter. He should give this to someone more capable, someone who can better award Shinji his happiness, because Shinji’s happiness is the ONLY THING THAT MATTERS anymore. There is nothing else. There is nothing else. There is nothing else. So if any of these other hands can do it, if any of them can do this thing, Kaworu will lay here under their feet. If they have to scale him to reach the finish line, so be it—
The only one not mauling him stands a few feet away. They all have the same features, but this one looks particularly fresh. His hair is a mess and he has a sour face. (But his face doesn’t matter, does it?) He seems very young, and that’s how Kaworu knows that he’s the oldest.
While they stare at each other, Kaworu develops this really terrible feeling in his chest. It slides up his throat, too, and even into his mouth, making his jaw clench. Belatedly, he realizes that it’s anger. No; it’s fury. He reaches out with one arm. Probably, it’s loathing. Tabris and Tabris and Tabris and Tabris are pinning him down, but Kaworu writhes, and he’s able to work his way across the floor, scraping his elbows and his chin. He’s striving toward the oldest Tabris with every human muscle he has — but since when are his efforts ever enough? Finally, though, he’s grasping at Tabris’ ankles, he’s curling his fingers, he’s shaking. If it wasn’t for you— If it wasn’t for you— If it wasn’t for you—
It’s the only thing that matters anymore.
SESSION FAILED]
—
[Better yourself to be better for him. Well, Armada, maybe he can’t.
He can’t bring himself to try again today.]
—
SESSION 10 (DAY 75)
[Midday. Kaworu has to drag himself in. The Box is making things as simple as it can this time. Shinji with brown eyes, Shinji with blue eyes, Shinji with a collar around his neck. They’re all easy pickings, because none of them have a gun, and Kaworu does. One of them, urges the Box. Any of them. It’s a simple mechanism: point and shoot. It wouldn’t take any effort at all. Kaworu almost starts to laugh at this Lilin tool of war in his hand. You’ve got to be kidding.
You know, all the times Kaworu has died, he’s been passive, squeezed, or popped. He’s never gone out by his own hand. It’s not really for lack of trying. A younger Tabris was desperate in different ways. He definitely knows what it’s like to hurt himself. But it’s never amounted to anything, and he was cursed to linger. So he knows that it won’t matter… Then, maybe it’s just defiance when he presses the muzzle of the gun to the bottom of his chin.
SESSION FAILED]
—
[As many times as he’s lost at Black Box, it’s even more of a failure not to continue. He has to correct his defects. He has nothing if he doesn’t try.
But when he leaves this session, he flees quietly to his room, and through all his wishes and curses, he can’t make himself go back.]
Presented below are depictions of violence, body horror, and suicide.
SESSION 1 (DAY 71)
[Somehow, this isn’t unexpected. Maybe it’s because he’s faced this scene before, and so it only makes him think, This again.
He’s in the bowels of Terminal Dogma, in its most secret and sinister parts. Kaworu hovers above the lake of LCL; everything smells like blood, like home, like childhood. He’d been looking for his mother, but she isn’t here. He’s been tricked. He’s been used for fifteen disingenuous years, an abomination turned puppet by human men. So he waits for Shinji to come crashing after him.
Be embraced, you millions!
Evangelion Unit 01 bursts onto the scene. Her great hand grabs him. Even though she’s just a proxy, Kaworu can feel every wretched thing that shocks through Shinji’s nerves right now. He stays very still in the center of Eva’s fist, and with neat words, he says his piece.]
Kaworu-kun, why?
[…Yes, why? There’s only one way this can end. He doesn’t even consider lashing out with his A.T. Field.
This kiss is for the entire world!
Kaworu’s smiling. He knows exactly what the CDC wants for him to do, and it’s ridiculous.]
I would prefer to die here, [he says gently. Shinji is less gentle and more pleading when he says that he doesn’t understand. Kaworu-kun, he begs softly. Kaworu’s features are just too adoring, even when he instructs Shinji to go ahead and end his life. He tilts his head back, though it’s only a visual confirmation of what he can feel: Rei Ayanami stands high above. Her eyes are so like his own; her soul is the same sort of ancient mother. Lilith, he wonders, how do you judge me? Still he smiles. These shouldn’t be fond memories, but… My life was meaningful, he tells Shinji, because of you.
There is NOTHING ELSE. The CDC is just going to have to deal with that. Kaworu keeps smiling. Unit 01 squeezes tight.
SESSION FAILED]
—
[He’d gone in thinking, I can do this. He comes out whiter than usual, his thick blood fleeing from his face. Kaworu didn’t feel cold when he walked with bare feet across the dusty face of Earth’s moon, but right now, everything is icy. When he brings his hand to rest over his eyes, he perceives a tremor.
Better yourself to be better for him.]
—
SESSION 2 (DAY 72)
[He’s been thinking about Black Box all night. And before that, too. Every moment since that first failure. Though it wasn’t really his first failure, was it? He fit in Eva’s hand so well. It’s something he’d once been resigned to. Yesterday was just another notch on his stone tablet, another כִּשָׁלוֹן elongating the Epistle of his defects.
Better yourself to be better for him.
He arrives early in the morning. He steps inside. This second simulation gives him something familiar again. It’s sunset, and everything is the gold of poppies. The sea is greedy for the shore. Kaworu is greedy for success. In the honey haze of evening, Shinji’s eyes are the only blue that matters. The encroaching night sky isn’t even in the same league.
Usually, during a scene like this, Shinji blushes right along with the sun. During this false fall of night, he’s just cold. They don’t exchange words or hearts, this time. Even if he tried, Kaworu wouldn’t be able to get the first few notes of Ode to Joy out before Shinji starts to strangle him.
Kaworu doesn’t need to breathe, although his throat works underneath the heel of Shinji’s palm. Even if he intended to save himself, his A.T. Field would frankly be unnecessary; Shinji can choke the breath out of him, but not the life. He can get along fine without gulping in the seafront air. But then Shinji’s hands are beastly in the way a man’s can be, forsaking the composure of the Fruit of Knowledge for the most primal parts of the soul. He is so much smaller than Eva, but maybe stronger. As the sunlight fades further away, Shinji seems composed by Bernini himself, marble and bronze and violence, Anima Dannata in motion. He’s both pushing and pulling. (But didn’t it start out that way?) And it hurts, but it just doesn’t matter. Shinji is entitled to any part of him. His throat — the weakness of his spinal column — his hands are loose and twitching at his sides, though he wants to touch the tight tendons in Shinji’s wrists. Shinji pries and twists. He means to rend. And when he does rend—
SESSION FAILED]
—
[Better yourself to be better for him.
He barely waits before going back in.]
—
SESSION 3 (DAY 72)
[The third attempt isn’t quite so predictable. Kaworu is greeted by his own soft laughter, watery and youthful. The lights are dim, and everything is awash in sickly orange. The room is wide and circular, and lined at the walls by a continuous glass tank. The tank is filled with LCL, as well as dozens of bodies.
They’re all Tabris. They aren’t Kaworu — Kaworu has both Tabris’ body and Adam’s soul. These beings have no souls at all. They’re the flesh of his flesh in the most literal sense. They’re just containers, and they’re even more of an abomination than he is. Their bodies are each a hollow vertebra in SEELE’s plan, forming the backbone of the Dummy System: it’s a collection of limbs and devastating instincts, creating the most efficient way to pilot Evangelions en masse. They mark Kaworu himself as ultimately expendable. Were he to defy SEELE too early in the game, any of them would make suitable backups. Few fates would be worse. To Tabris, to Kaworu, who values free will so highly, being stripped of his autonomy, losing access to his personality…
…just isn’t an option.
In the center of the room is a long vertical tube, also full of LCL. That thing is like home, in the worst way. It was Tabris’ dwelling place for a very long time. Even during the creation of his Dummy System, he was made to frequent this place. Kaworu looks at it now with a secret bitterness. The oxygen outside of Lilith’s blood is so much better.
Though the lighting is low, it gives the glass tube a sheen. In it, Kaworu can discern a reflection. Considering the situation, it’s not surprising to see Shinji here, but Kaworu prickles with an uncomfortable heat from his ears to the dip at his clavicle. Shame, he realizes. He doesn’t want Shinji to see these heinous things.]
Hey, [he says, warm and upset, as he turns to face Shinji. They’re not very far apart, which is always a relief, even when Kaworu’s losing. Almost smiling, at least for Shinji’s sake, Kaworu expects the other boy to lunge, but Shinji doesn’t clutch at him this time. In his hand, instead, is a small control pad. Its orange list of units looks clinical. Its red coded commands look alarming. Shinji’s thumb hovers above that anxious red, while the languid clones sway like white sea grass.]
Kaworu-kun, [Shinji says, and the clones snap to attention. They look at once both listless and delighted, and, twittering, they drift slowly towards the glass, pressing their bare skin against it where they can. Kaworu should extend his A.T. Field. He should knock the control pad away. He should…
But he doesn’t, and Shinji thumbs the command: DESTRUDO RELEASE. The bodies in the tank are still murmuring their laughter as their limbs sluggishly break away and sink. They’re completely falling apart, and they look so glad about it. Kaworu turns his eyes away from their ruin and down towards his own hands, and finds the flesh of his fingers sagging off the bone. From the second knuckle down, his right middle finger drops off entirely. Well, it doesn’t hurt. If anything, he feels enveloped by something familiar. He looks back up at Shinji. On the control pad, at the top of the list:
TABRIS 001
The muscles in his legs are deteriorating. Kaworu has to laugh — helplessly, perhaps. Not hopelessly. There is always hope. No matter the circumstances. He gives Shinji an apologetic smile, and collapses into LCL.
SESSION FAILED]
—
[Better yourself to be better for him.]
—
SESSION 4 (DAY 72)
[This next one is just laughable. Maybe the Black Box is trying to make the decision easier. It seems to be encouraging him to do nothing more than change his previous choices, even though nothing good comes from replaying your painful memories. The simulation brings Kaworu into a white room with a red floor and a small bed, where Shinji is huddled. Kaworu knows the script here well.] I want you to trust me, [he says.]
I can’t, [Shinji moans.
The Black Box’s intentions here are obvious. It’s these next few actions which led to Kaworu’s most recent death. If he avoids them, he will live. If he avoids them, Shinji will die.
Kaworu steps forward until he can lower his weight onto the bed, kneeling behind Shinji, smoothing his hands over such shaky shoulders. He sets his fingers at each side of Shinji’s neck. The DSS choker is a black band created to collar Angels and dangerous beasts, and it’s been strangling Shinji towards fear and doubt and a bloody mess. Kaworu unlocks it deftly, and lifts it away from Shinji.] I’ll shoulder the burden. [He brings the choker up to his own neck, and it latches onto him.] No need to worry, [he says lightly.
It’s pointless for the simulation to continue. His choices have been tested, and later today, he’ll die. And so,
SESSION FAILED]
—
[Better yourself to be better for him.
Black Box won’t allow him to access the room for a fourth time that day. He goes to his room, methodically crunches his way through every single hard candy in his possession, and agonizes for the remaining length of hours.]
—
SESSION 5 (DAY 73)
[It’s early morning when he makes his next attempt. He’s bracing himself, not to do what “must” be done — it’s his perception that he is carrying out his responsibilities, all of which are to Shinji Ikari alone — but just to weather it. He’s been doing this, where “this” is “dying in favor of Shinji,” for a long time, and though he recoils from the reality of its toll, he’s exhausted. That’s with years between each death. To have so many in such a small amount of time… Honestly, he almost floats into the chamber, feeling too weak and heavy to lift his feet and move his legs. But he persists. There’s no other option for him.
When the simulation begins this time, there are cats winding around his ankles. There are so many cats. They’re all white, but they vary in size. Some aren’t even big enough to be weaned; others are senior catizens, hobbling a little, probably missing teeth. What could have been, perhaps. The Black Box really wants him to reconsider old mistakes, doesn’t it? Kaworu watches the crowding cats for a moment, and then looks around himself. Given the Box’s track record thus far, he’s unsurprised that it’s a place he knows. This time, it’s the skeleton of a place of worship, forsaken by time and slowly returning to nature. (Really? God? When Tabris was young, it was one of the stupidest things he’d ever heard. You expect him to believe that Man would worship God? Just look at what they did to his mother.) Whoever left this church also abandoned its piano. Kaworu could navigate the sea of cats and polish its bench and keys. He could sit and play the hymns that were meant to grace this place. Is that part of the script?
But the cats start to scatter, because someone’s walking through them. Kaworu thinks he won’t be alarmed when he turns to look; it’ll only be Shinji. And, of course, it is. But there’s something that whites out any amount of Kaworu’s composure. Shinji’s eyes are brown. Nothing good comes from replaying your painful memories. The Box really isn’t pulling its punches.
The cats are dropping dead when Shinji grabs Kaworu’s throat.] It’s fine, [Kaworu says.] Just, this time, don’t forget me, all right?
[SESSION FAILED]
—
[Better yourself to be better for him.]
*******NEXT COMMENT*******
SESSION 6 (DAY 73)
[The sixth attempt is immediately very cold. It doesn’t bother Kaworu, but he can perceive it. It isn’t cold like Ajna was; and there’s no temperature this low found anywhere on Earth. Kaworu knows exactly where he is.
It’s only dark until he hefts the lid of his coffin away: when he sits up, everything is bright and vast, all white and black and sun and stars. The lunar surface looks the same as ever, he thinks, while he turns his head slowly. Then he realizes that it doesn’t.
There are too many coffins. He was last here fourteen years ago, and even then, there were a great deal. A long line behind him were left empty, lids cast aside. An even longer line was before him (there is always hope, no matter the circumstances). But at that time, there were far fewer coffins without lids. Kaworu stares. What happened between then and now? How many times? How many times? How many times?
Naturally, Shinji shows up again, even though he shouldn’t be able to dwell here. He casts a long shadow over Kaworu, who is bare and lacking oxygen as he sits in his coffin. More curiously, Shinji holds a Lance of Longinus that’s small enough for him to use. Use for what, exactly? Kaworu fully expects to be impaled.
Instead, Shinji passes Kaworu and moves on to the next covered coffin. Kaworu is still as he watches Shinji push away its lid.] Shinji-kun, you shouldn’t do that, [he says, uneasy. He’s never pried open any coffins aside from the ones in which he woke. Doing that, he supposed, would just be damning himself more quickly. The Tabris inside would surely be premature.
Kaworu can’t see what’s inside, but Shinji spears it with the Lance.] Don’t, [Kaworu says, alarmed. He’s rearing back. If he fails again— If he fails again, what will he do next—
You really have to stop using that as a fallback.
Shinji moves to the next coffin, shoves its lid aside, and stabs the Lance into it. Stop him, something urges. Kaworu is gaping. It would be easy to stop him, so stop him. Next coffin. Shinji shoves the Lance inside.
Next coffin. Shinji shoves the Lance inside.
Next coffin. Shinji shoves the Lance inside.
Next coffin. Shinji shoves the Lance inside.
Next coffin. Shinji shoves the Lance inside.
Next coffin. Shinji shoves the Lance inside.
I guess you’re not going to do it. Kaworu can sense a very clinical disapproval. Next coffin.
SESSION FAILED]
[Better yourself to be better for him.]
—
SESSION 7 (DAY 73)
[His body is way too small. He can tell right away. Lights seem oddly bright, too, and the temperature of air against his skin seems foreign. It isn’t bad; he doesn’t dislike it. It’s just new.
There’s a man at a desk. It’s not very organized: there are lots of file folders and papers, many of them crooked and strewn. There’s also a little bonsai tree. The man seems so awfully familiar. Kaworu wants very much to be held by him. His caretakers touch him as infrequently as possible.
The man turns in his chair to look at Kaworu, and it’s with a warmth that feels as new as fluorescent light and lukewarm air.] There you are, [he says.] Why don’t you come here? [Kaworu obliges. His slippers make soft sounds against the floor. When he’s close enough, the man sets a hand on his had. He says,] Tabris, you’re a good boy.
[Am I really? Kaworu feels this creeping shame, and he averts his eyes, glancing to the side. At the edge of the room is something that shouldn’t be there.
At another desk sits Yui Ikari. Her little boy is standing in front of her, and her hand is on his head. She says,] Shinji, you’re a good boy. [Kaworu stares. Shinji looks happy— Shinji looks happy— Shinji looks happy— ]
Sorry, [the man tells him, smoothing down his hair.] It’s time to go back inside. [“Inside,” Kaworu knows, means the tube of LCL. Just leave. Incapacitate this man. Incapacitate everyone in your way. You can rise high above their heads. You can withstand all of their weapons. Flee to somewhere far away and bide your time. If you stay now, you will surely die.
Yui Ikari is lifting her son onto her lap. He’s smiling wide; he’s touching her face. Shinji looks happy.]
All right, [Kaworu says.] You can take me back now.
[SESSION FAILED]
—
[Better yourself to be better for him. Time’s up. He’ll come back tomorrow.]
—
SESSION 8 (DAY 74)
[It’s the worst thing, to be mindless. It’s the worst thing. It’s the worst thing. Then, why can’t Kaworu control his limbs? They’re moving, yes, but not of his accord. He’s sitting quietly in an entry plug. Even when he tries to speak, all he can do is work his jaw, and the LCL bubbles away from his throat. But he’s piloting Eva… Not Unit 13. He concentrates hard on perceiving his surroundings. It’s not Mark.06, either. It’s…
He can hear Shinji screaming. It’s the most visceral sound, ripped deep from his flimsy chest.] Asuka! Asuka! Asuka! [What now, about Second? Kaworu thinks vaguely. He focuses forward. Ah, it’s Unit 02, and Kaworu is assaulting it with no sense of mercy.
Now he’s alarmed. This isn’t Unit 13 and it’s not Mark.06, it’s… I shouldn’t be in this Unit, Kaworu thinks. They shouldn’t have put me here. The Mass Production Eva Series is piloted exclusively by the Dummy System. Their entry plugs read KAWORU. (Honestly, Kaworu would prefer they say Tabris. "Kaworu" has a mind and a soul and he spends every day binding his instincts in an iron chest. These things are despicable.) No, he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be tearing at Unit 02’s armor. Stop, he tries to will himself. Stop. But the Dummies don’t have any will to exert.
Shinji’s still screaming. His throat must be raw by now. Kaworu has the dim realization that Second tastes really good. It’s Eva’s mouth that’s gnawing at her, but Kaworu’s tongue feels it, too. Everything is red and red and red, and the deep purple of secret innards. Stop. Definitely stop. Stop right now. All he can do is gnash his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut so hard he sees stars.
He feels Eva turn away from Unit 02’s corpse, and wonders if he might dare to open his eyes. 02’s taste is ebbing from his mouth. He hopes he doesn’t start to drool. Eva lurches forward, and now Kaworu has to look. Not that, not that, not that— The Eva Series is hurling itself toward Shinji’s Unit 01. Shinji-kun, Kaworu thinks, perhaps more panicked than he’s ever been, and now Shinji is screeching that he needs help, he needs someone to help him, please, help him. He cries for Asuka and Ayanami and even Kaworu-kun. His voice is horrified and Kaworu is horrified.
He can hear a voice from SEELE personnel crackle into the cockpit. The Dummy Plug is malfunctioning. All at once, the Dummy’s arm is Kaworu’s. This isn’t going to happen. Eva convulses. This isn’t going to happen. He reaches for the most desperate switch. Even by force, this isn’t going to happen.
SEELE personnel is scrambling. Eva Unit is set to self destruct! The single hand Kaworu controls is trembling like mad. Stress and agony, of course, but also some of the deepest relief he’s felt before. This will be okay. With this, it will be all right.
SESSION FAILED]
—
[Better yourself to be better for him. As long as he has the will, right?]
—
SESSION 9 (DAY 74)
[Is this another place of worship? Kaworu stretches out his arm to look at his canvas skin. Right now it’s a patchwork of color, all filtered through beautiful glass. The stained windows are ornate and very clean. Their hues are enhanced by the sky: there’s no ceiling here, just an endless, dark concentric rainbow. It looks hungry.
Tabris is everywhere. He’s floating and shuffling and standing still. His hands are in his pockets, or tousling his hair, or polishing the windows. Most of all, he’s orange. Kaworu glances down at (the only proper) himself. He, singularly, is purple. He puts his hands in his pockets, too.
The first Tabris who notices him starts a domino effect. Hey, one says, and then, Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. They aren’t docile creatures like the backups used for the Dummy System. This Tabris hoard has feelings, and way too many of them. And they’re bitter. And they’re tired. (But they’re not as bitter or as tired as Kaworu.)
His hands are still in his pockets when they descend upon him. They’re a flock, they’re ruffled. They’re like pigeons. They have him on the ground almost instantly, and their knees are jabbing at him, their shoes are stepping on him, their hands are trying to pull him apart. They’re so frantic. My turn, cries one voice, and it sets them all off. My turn. My turn. My turn. My turn. Again, you’re no good. It shouldn’t be you. It should be me. It should be me. My turn.
I failed, he thinks, so you’re not really wrong. How many times? (How many times? (How many times?)) At this point, he really has no right to this quest. He’s poured all of himself into it, a thousand and ten thousand times, and it still hasn’t been enough. How does he deserve to see the sacred end after ruining it so many times? As long as it gets done, it doesn’t matter. He should give this to someone more capable, someone who can better award Shinji his happiness, because Shinji’s happiness is the ONLY THING THAT MATTERS anymore. There is nothing else. There is nothing else. There is nothing else. So if any of these other hands can do it, if any of them can do this thing, Kaworu will lay here under their feet. If they have to scale him to reach the finish line, so be it—
The only one not mauling him stands a few feet away. They all have the same features, but this one looks particularly fresh. His hair is a mess and he has a sour face. (But his face doesn’t matter, does it?) He seems very young, and that’s how Kaworu knows that he’s the oldest.
While they stare at each other, Kaworu develops this really terrible feeling in his chest. It slides up his throat, too, and even into his mouth, making his jaw clench. Belatedly, he realizes that it’s anger. No; it’s fury. He reaches out with one arm. Probably, it’s loathing. Tabris and Tabris and Tabris and Tabris are pinning him down, but Kaworu writhes, and he’s able to work his way across the floor, scraping his elbows and his chin. He’s striving toward the oldest Tabris with every human muscle he has — but since when are his efforts ever enough? Finally, though, he’s grasping at Tabris’ ankles, he’s curling his fingers, he’s shaking. If it wasn’t for you— If it wasn’t for you— If it wasn’t for you—
It’s the only thing that matters anymore.
SESSION FAILED]
—
[Better yourself to be better for him. Well, Armada, maybe he can’t.
He can’t bring himself to try again today.]
—
SESSION 10 (DAY 75)
[Midday. Kaworu has to drag himself in. The Box is making things as simple as it can this time. Shinji with brown eyes, Shinji with blue eyes, Shinji with a collar around his neck. They’re all easy pickings, because none of them have a gun, and Kaworu does. One of them, urges the Box. Any of them. It’s a simple mechanism: point and shoot. It wouldn’t take any effort at all. Kaworu almost starts to laugh at this Lilin tool of war in his hand. You’ve got to be kidding.
You know, all the times Kaworu has died, he’s been passive, squeezed, or popped. He’s never gone out by his own hand. It’s not really for lack of trying. A younger Tabris was desperate in different ways. He definitely knows what it’s like to hurt himself. But it’s never amounted to anything, and he was cursed to linger. So he knows that it won’t matter… Then, maybe it’s just defiance when he presses the muzzle of the gun to the bottom of his chin.
SESSION FAILED]
—
[As many times as he’s lost at Black Box, it’s even more of a failure not to continue. He has to correct his defects. He has nothing if he doesn’t try.
But when he leaves this session, he flees quietly to his room, and through all his wishes and curses, he can’t make himself go back.]