Shinji's Heart

[dramatispersonae]

You plunge into a thick and viscous liquid. It's all around you—filling your ears, your nose, your mouth. It smells like blood. It tastes like blood. But you're not drowning. Instead, you find each breath coming easily. It feels . . . calming. Familiar. And you drift . . .

who are you?
The thought strikes you—a message, from somewhere? But you're alone here. Here? W̳̜̹̼̲̱͕h̠̬͉̘̹̰͚e̯̳̯r̜̩̟͉e̯̜̳ ͍i̟͉͚̱̜s̪͓ ̝h̝̮e͕re?̠ W̙͕͉͉͍ͅh̤̯a̫͉̬͕͖t̮̩ ͈w̖̼̙̙̙̜a̫̩̪s̺ ̭̤̣t̳̲̩͈͔ͅhe̗ ̦̥qu͈ͅe͔̟̻sti̥̘͍̫͚ͅọ̠͇͍͕̦̠n̬̬̹͓̦͓?͎̮ ̣̲͚̫͔̪W̦h̭͉̙͞o̢̘̦̺͚͕̠̞ ̦̜a̤̳͉̩̩̖͟r͇e͙͜ ͎̹̜.͏ .͕͇͍͓̮͠ .̟̲͉̼̲ͅͅ ̱̠̞y͍͈o̞̙̹͍͠u̶̙̖? ̹̙Ẃ͔̰͔̪ͅh͉̼͍o̖̲͍͜ ̕am̘ ͇̬̝͉̹.̩͍͉̳̝ ̩̬̭͜.҉͎ ̭͓̹̰͍.͇̺̼̯̲̳ ̻͈͕̞̜I̵̥̥͚͔̬?͇͍̗̦̤̝


There is a deep sense of uncertainty. But the world seems to be slowly reforming around you. You can make out the edge of your own fingers (. . . or tentacles), drifting. Ah—they're attached to you. That's good. You have a body. Yes, you remember . . .

who are you?
The thought comes again. Is that a woman's voice? . . . should you answer . . .? Or should you just drift . . . It's safe here, and you don't have to think about anything. You don't have to be anything.

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[bodymod]

[yes. yes, I do have a body… currently.]

Who are you?

[seasidelove]

[She didn't ask for this but I guess here we are.]

. . . What? I'm—Nagisa.

[dramatispersonae]

[There's a deep sense of uncertainty at that thought . . .]

[dramatispersonae]

n a g i s a

[Are you sure you're Nagisa? . . . what does it mean to be Nagisa . . .? it hurts—]

[seasidelove]

It means—being happy! I know it's who I am—It should be who I am.

[dramatispersonae]

[You struggle to open your eyes—to remember that you have eyes, and all the important pieces of you, connected to one another. And as you do so, there's—pain. Just a faint sting, somewhere around your throat. But the more real you are, the more it bites. Lights sting your retinas; air brushes your skin, sears your throat.

Existing seems so very painful.]

[seasidelove]

[I WANT TO EXIST ANYWAY, what's a little pain for existing, existing is good—so even if it hurts and she has to struggle for it, she will.]

[odetojoy]

[Kaworu has felt similar things in the past, but he still takes a bit of time to reaffirm himself before answering.]

I am Kaworu—Liberty.

[bodymod]

[patiently waiting.]

[dramatispersonae]

kaworu/liberty?

kaworu oͪ̈́ͮ͋͏͡͏̣̦͓͉r̘͉̰͍ͤ̍͊̀ liberty?

[dramatispersonae]

[No answer seems to be forthcoming, but you're beginning to—drift, foggy, lost.]

who are you?

[dramatispersonae]

[Abruptly, you find the world around you materializing into something more solid—you're drifting, suspended, but there seem to be walls all around, with bright monitors and pulsing lights and crackling, humming electricity. Organic matter pulses between metal plates, veins bulging alongside copper wire, flesh trembling.

There are two things that seem off about your body. One—there is a tight, constricting presence around your neck. A close inspection will find a few loops of red string, tied so firmly that it digs into your skin. It's tied in a bow, but no matter how you tug and pull, it won't come undone.

The other thing of note is that there is, somewhere on your personage, a small card—an ID card, with your picture. But . . . the rest of the information on it is jumbled:]

N͙͚͖̘̱͇͚̩̭̭̗̯̫̟͖̭͈ͅa̰̖̬̣͓̗̠͕͈̙̠̤̼ͅͅm͚͖̠̗͈͍̫͍̗e̦̞̞̞̝̳̳͔̞͓͕̣̗̬̖̠̬͖̺:͙̘̺̘̯̝ ̹͕̰̻̘̭͎̫͔͈̙͖̮̤ͅ?̳̲̱͈͔̱̣̲̖̹
̞͈̳̬͙̳̟̬͕͓͎͚͔̗̭̘̲̘͕D̺͓̺͙͎̭̤̗͚̱͖̜͎̜̫̙̠ͅ.̖̹͖̳̖͕̺̮̻̹̪O͔͙̫̼̩̣.̦̠̼̭͖ͅB͚̝̱̝̯̙͍͚̙̱̪͚ͅ.̲̦͈̦̗͙̜͔͇͔̭̙̩̯̜:̤̠͍͚̱͙̗͎͕ ͎̤̙̝̼̗̩̼̰̺̪?̟̘̝͎̠̯̖̫͎͕
͕͓͓̬͍̘̦S͙̻͈̜͔͈̣̼͎̺̟͖̩̼̙t̬͎̖̪̭̠̰̫͇ͅͅa̭̬̳̜̲̰̠̞̜ͅͅt͍̹̙̤̱͔͇̣̳̞̲̼͎̺̤ͅu̗̹̼͚̝̻̻͙̭͕̮͔̖̘͉͔ͅs͈̲͔͚̤̗̫̖̪͙:̱͍̫̯̝ ͇̯͙̳̮͈̖̠̲̟A͉̤͓͔̰̫͓̬̮ͅͅl̯͕̗̣͕̹̮̥̪͍̲o̥̥͚̬͉̪̙͇n̹̘͔̣̬e͙̟̻̻͇̹͍̗̲̺̯͖͚̻̤̣͍?͇̠͍̜̖̲̳̥͖̭͚̯̪̙̘ͅ
̞̫̭͔̱̫͎̲̟̘͈h̥̘̘̝͙̖͍͎̮̱̺̟̗̤̲͖͚̤e̖̯͇̹͉̼̫̬͔͎l̮̯̯̮̦̩͔p̥͔̣͕̙̳͈̭̞͇̰̘̯̱̹̰

[seasidelove]

[hums a little, looking over the ID card—before going to inspect the bright monitors.]

[bodymod]

Humans call me by many names. I am myself.

[dramatispersonae]

Movement catches your eye—one of the computer screens lights up, words scrolling rapidly across it, before freezing in place, glitching occasionally:

what is more important?
> my perception of myself
> other peoples' perception of me

[odetojoy]

[there's a pause there, closing his eyes.]

Kaworu, for him.

[dramatispersonae]

does a name make the self?

[There is a sensation as if arms are wrapping around you from behind, warm and soothing.]

[seasidelove]

[if she can, tapping "my perception of myself"]

Your perception of yourself. That's the most important thing.

[dramatispersonae]

There doesn't appear to be any way to type on the console, but if you drift closer, you can see that there is a card-reader (the type you swipe through), as well as a thumbprint and retinal scanner. There is also a small microphone—so it responds to your voice.

> I'm afraid of being hated.

[bodymod]

No, it does not.

[very firmly.

whoa arms from behind are weird though, rustles his wing-things a bit.]

[dramatispersonae]

[There is a gentle sensation of fingers closing in around your neck, loving but firm.]

do y̷̧̨̠͍͎̗̤̜̟ͧͫ͂o̜͉̮͕͓̣̊ͩͧ̓̕͢͡û̧̖̯̻̽̓͘ become different?

[dramatispersonae]

[You meet no resistance, though there is a rushing noise like static.]


w̶̨̡̳͚͔̟̞͔̞̠ͫ̊̑̋̓̾̍͋ͅh̸̞̮̹ͩͭͪ͑̚̚̚͠a̶̹̭͍̩̫ͨ͊̋̋̒̚t̨̞͖͉͍ͧ̆͡ ͉̻̗͔̤̓͘͟m̩̬̮̀̇̀̆̉ͦ̐̔͝a̢͖͎̯̳̺̔̆̌̓̿͑̚̚kͧ͂̆̚͟͏̸͙̻̗͎̬͉ę̵̷̠̫̘͈͔̹̘̤̳ͭ̓̿͗̈́ͮͩ́͛s̠̥͔͓̝͕̠ͦ̓̕͠ ̤̺̳͇͉̩̬̉ͭ̆̐̓ͤ̽̅t̨̝̓̂ͣ̀̇̏h͕͎̃͌ͮe̢̮̙͆͑ ̪͚̤̎ͨ̇̈͡ṣ̡̱͚͒͂ͯ̍̑ͥ̃͒́ͅẽ̮̳̘͙̻ͫ͂ͬ͑́l̖̬̟̻͍͕̮ͦͩ̎̀͢ͅf̊̚͏҉̼̳?͒̿͌͝҉̴͓̻͙͔

[seasidelove]

[Paying more attention to the microphone.]

I think everyone has that fear. . . but it doesn't make it feel any better, does it? For what it's worth, I don't think anyone could hate you easily. I know that I couldn't.

[dramatispersonae]

[An image flickers across the screen briefly:]

[dramatispersonae]

[. . . then is gone]

> I hate myself.