From: mew3point14@doramail.com (Daniel Snyder) "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful bride. She knew love, and she knew what it was to be loved. But she was proud, too, and resolved not to give herself to anyone. "On day of her wedding, she was dressed in her most beautiful gown and surrounded by everyone she loved. But she frowned, because she was proud and she had only half-chosen her husband-to-be. Although she knew him by the word of others, she had never seen his face. "'Smile and love your husband,' they all shouted, 'smile and love your husband.' And the longer she did not smile, the louder they shouted, and the more impatient everyone became. "Finally, she swallowed her pride and smiled weakly. In that moment, her bridegroom came to her. She saw him for the first time. "He was beautiful to look upon, and charming in his bearing. Willingly, she smiled then. Willingly, she married him. "What was the name of the bride?" -- The day passed by on the footsteps of spiders. Tulips turned their heads towards the sun, blood ran through the body on the rhythm of the heart. Shinji and Maya collected Rei and Kaworu from Akumafune, then crossed the campus to Nagamara for Touji and Kensuke. They were coaxed from their rooms, though Shigeru chose to stay behind, Finding a quiet place on the parkland where the wildflowers never grew, the six made a picnic of sushi and nattou and apples. They grew full on company and chat in a time of trouble. They had no notion of what was going on at large in the school. Feuervogel, the world around them, went on; but for a day an island was built with their collective imaginations. They talked of everything and nothing, the world as it could be and the world as they knew it. "I believe in free will," Kaworu explained to Suzuhara Touji and Aida Kensuke. "I believe that the Will of God must be achieved freely. It is a necessary but not sufficient condition for God to grow." "That's crazy," replied Kensuke. "God doesn't grow." "The universe expands at the speed of light," Kaworu returned. "As fast as light can permeate the four-dimensional void that our cosmos lies within, it expands. So it is with God. When one of his worshippers devises a new way to worship, or returns renewed to faith, our reality that is our perception expands. Potential becomes actuality. Creation has never ended. God is. God grows." Hours followed upon hours. Night came. Shinji dreamed in black and white that night. He dreamed of Lovecraft's stereograms. Images came to his mind that night that were too painful and terrifying to be anything but the truth. But though he _knew_ the emotions that they dredged along with them, he could not perceive their source. A haze, a kind of limitation, a glitch in the resolution in his mind's eye, obscured exactly what it was that played before him. And the sounds...speech did not match what he thought to be moving lips, nor was effect synched with cause. A disorienting cacophony, unintelligible noise of all frequencies and tones, battered him so severely that night that he woke to blessed daylight with a sore jaw. Ikari Shinji felt redeemed and renewed by the morning. The foundation of the day before remained. He practiced his kendo and his fencing under the eyes of both Rei and Kaworu. Ayanami Rei sat at the eastern edge of the roof, back to the sun, and took in the sight of him like the thirsty Earth takes rain. To her right, Nagisa Kaworu watched with rapt attention as well. His glance was more studious than Rei's. The newcomer took in the flexing and easing of Shinji's muscles, the placing of the bones of his skeleton, and the trajectory of the foil as it moved through space. "You seemed to be enjoying your practice," Kaworu remarked to Shinji as they sat down to breakfast. Shinji nodded. "I think it went well. It was a good practice session for me. And after last night...I had nightmares last night. I was half- afraid that nothing was going to go right for me today." He served himself some vegetables and put the plate back where it had been, in the sunlight. "Nightmares," Kaworu said thoughtfully. "My friend Shinji, I do not dream, but even if I did I feel I would be tempted not to share my dreams with you. I feel that the workings of the mind are a most intimate thing. When someone says, 'What are your dreams?' tell me, how does it make you feel?" "I don't feel anything much. I just assume they want to know what my plans for the future and ambitions are." "Such a queer thing human affairs are!" laughed Kaworu. Perhaps it was the early hour, but Shinji felt like there was something hidden in the remark. Rightly or wrongly, he found it abrasive, and he ate in silence -- content to let the Foundation be--until Kaworu spoke again. "I'm curious to know, Shinji. One thing you said just now is that, you said your practice was 'good'. What makes a good practice for you?" Shinji swallowed his mouthful before he began. "I was going to say that I don't know, but that isn't what you're looking for. So...I'd say that a good practice for me is when I do everything I'm supposed to do, and do it well." "And what does that entail?" "Well, first I have to clear my head. You know, I have to keep myself from getting distracted. I try and clear out all the distractions-- wandering thoughts, cobwebs from last night's sleep, that sort of thing. After I get my mind ready, I get my body ready. I start at my neck and work out all the muscle groups down to my feet. Some people will only stretch out their arms, but you need your whole body ready for each swing. It's not enough to only prepare your arms. "Then the sword practice begins. I start out with kendo because there's less fine control involved than in fencing. First I swing the bokken, with each hand leading and with each hand alone. Each kind of strike I know. Then I advance and retreat with my sword drawn. In kendo, you move differently than in fencing, where you have to be up higher off the ground, and more agile. "So I practice them both. When I'm all warmed up with kendo, I move on to fencing. Fencing's different from kendo because there's more etiquette behind it. There's rules rather than philosophy." By the time the conversation had compared and contrasted the two schools of swordsmanship, they were done with the breakfast things, and all three took the dirty dishes to the kitchen. Kaworu said to Shinji as they departed Akumafune, "Of what you have said, what of it makes the practice 'good'?" "I guess...that everything goes like I've planned it. Like it should." "The ideal is kissed by the material. Are you grateful?" "To whom?" "To whom indeed?" And the question nagged Shinji to the greenhouse. -- "Did you know, Shinji," said Kaworu as they passed their time in petals of white, "that mankind itself is an angel?" "Is that so?" "Yes, it is. It is written, 'Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that creepeth upon the earth.' The Holy One, blessed be He, gave humans dominion over the things of this world. Not the beauty of the sky, but the sky itself- -the material sky. An artist can capture a rainbow on canvas, and a scientist can talk about refraction of white light by a water molecule. Neither in and of itself--the distribution of pigment nor the analysis and reductivisim--achieve glory. But both can become greater than they are as humans appreciate them. Humanity is this, the vanguard angel, made in God's image to bring glory to this world." "But does--can I ask a question?" "Of course you may, Shinji." "Maybe I don't understand you, but it doesn't seem to me like that would make people honest-to-gosh angels." "Why not?" "I mean, people do such awful things to each other." "There is a concept, is there not, of a 'Fallen Angel'? One who rends things to less than what they could be, one who grows strong on the insecurities and paranoia of humans?" Kaworu, who had been looking evenly at Shinji during the exchange, suddenly lowered his eyes and turned to where Rei was working. "I apologize for that outburst, Shinji. I do not like to discuss evil...and though we will, it is best we do not do it now. Suffice it to say that a person with a soul, who works and studies and obeys the laws of God, is a vanguard angel. One who knows his flesh, keeps it clean, and does not let it become his master, is so. "But let us move forward from this, Shinji. You have defined what is an angel. Do you know what a Prophet is?" "'Shinchoku'?" "Once again, we must go back to the Greek roots. ________, a spokesman or interpreter--from ________, 'to say before'. Now, the nuances of the word do not only indicate a knowledge of what is to come, they refer to divine inspiration. In effect, the direct passage of the Holy Spirit to one chosen by God. "A prophet, therefore, is one who knows the will of God." Kaworu paused for effect before he went on. "A prophet is at one with the will of God, but when you reflect upon this, you will realize that this says nothing about prognostication per se. The will of God has operated in the past, continues to operate in the present, as well as into the future." "I see," Shinji said. "Very good, Shinji. I believe you do understand as well. Now, you will learn the fundamentals of prophecy. At once easy and impossible--easy if you let it happen, impossible if you try to dictate it. We will save prophecy of the past and future for another lesson. Today, you will learn about how prophecy acts instant to instant. This is Hod, or Splendor." "Why is it called Splendor?" "Splendor is the divine ideal of the moment. When you simply _are,_ irrespective of the future or the past, you approach the ideal of what can be even as what could be becomes what is. Splendor is the first place from which we can achieve what is greater. You burst above the Foundation, where you aspire from, and ascend. You cast up holy sparks. This unlearning, essential for the Kingdom of God to stand yet impossible to force someone to learn, is of tremendous nobility. Now, please come. Friend Rei has finished her gardening already. We must be off to class." Rei closed the door to the greenhouse behind them as they left. Outside, a large throng of people was gathered in the courtyard. From one and all came chatter, a casual susurration that filled the cracks where no-one stood. It resonated off of the white walls of Feuervogel's buildings. Everywhere, everywhere was the sound of talking. Shinji, Rei and Kaworu made their way through the crowd and entered their classroom exactly as the bell was tolling nine. Their desks were empty and still dusty from the night before--nobody had been there yesterday, nobody was there at present, and it seemed as though nobody would come. Yet all three took seats. Rei sat and looked placid, Kaworu sat and looked vaguely amused, Shinji sat and looked both uncomfortable and apprehensive. Five minutes had passed before Aoba Shigeru looked in. He was dressed in his standard uniform, but wore his acoustic guitar on his back. Across his front was a chain of linked rings that held it there. "I knew you'd come here today!" he said triumphantly to Shinji. "And I was gonna make a bet with Kensuke on it, too. Bummer I didn't track him down. Anyway, Ikari, classes have been cancelled for the rest of the week, so you may as well go home. Go on, shove off." "What's the matter?" Shinji asked. "Why? Because..." Shigeru trailed off as his eyes alit on Kaworu. The albino gave a polite, coy smile and said , "Hello." Quickly as he could, Shigeru scooted between the rows to stand by Kaworu's side. "Huh-hello," he stammered. "I don't think I've seen you here before." "Were you looking for me before?" Shigeru chuckled and looked askance. In response, Kaworu stood but moved neither toward nor away from the boy. "My name is Rahamim Tabris. But lest that name stick in your mouth, call me Nagisa Kaworu. And I believe you were telling friend Shinji that we are not having class today?" "Yeah," Shigeru exhaled. With an effort, he took his eyes off the smiling boy and said, "We're supposed to be in mourning for those guys, but...I guess nobody wants to do it. And the professors..." "What about them?" It was all Shigeru could do to turn away so that Kaworu was out of his sight. He said to Shinji, "It's like, the faculty don't know what they're supposed to do. I guess you know by now 'bout what's happened outside campus. We have food and water and supplies, don't ask me how or where or where from. So it looks like things'll be OK for today, for a while. Tomorrow they're gonna sit down and decide what the plan is for the future, when we may not have enough to live on, or something. And no class today." "Huh," was all Shinji said in response. Kaworu gave him a look of surprise. "You seem most complacent to this turn of events, Shinji." "I don't follow you." "Prophecy, Shinji." Kaworu brushed past Aoba, delighting the boy, and perched himself on the edge of Shinji's desk. "See the splendor, the radiance of the world, at the instant. You can." Shinji shook his head. "Close your eyes, please, and hold my hand." He did as he was asked. Leaning forward, Nagisa Kaworu began to whisper abracadabra into his ear, sonorously droning, "Ikarishinji. Kairishinji. Kariishinji. Karishiinji. Karishin'iji. Karishinjii. Karishinji. Rikashinji. Rishikanji..." And while the rhythm of the words liberated his mind, the boy was witness to the world as he knew it. In the courtyard, not twenty meters away, he saw _more_ than he knew was possible. Beyond the people, the heat of their bodies, the zones of pressure and ease sound waves made and the flickering electromagnetic pulses thoughts sculptured in their brains; beyond all of that, Ikari Shinji saw into the souls of Feuervogel. They swam like protoplasm around and through the material bodies, now reaching out to a friend, now drawing back with fear from some unknown. They were not hexagonal chain mail, they were not swarms of orange butterflies, they were something too sublime for words and too dynamic for perspicacity. Every single element of greatness, the imago intricacy schooned and skipped on the changing tempests with the mind and body. He saw them all, moving with them and around them, he touched them, he drank with them, drank and drank with them... His eyes fluttered open and remained closed, and Shinji said, "They're scared." "Who?" "Everybody. Students, teachers, everyone." "Are scared of...what?" "The unknown." "What of the unknown?" "The future." Coherent again, Shinji spoke to the two others in the room. "Everyone's afraid of what the future will bring. They're afraid of death, or pain, or loss, and everyone's, you know. Personal fears." Rei nodded encouragingly. "That is so," said Kaworu, "and that in turn makes it prophecy." "What?" Shinji exclaimed. "That's nonsense. That's nothing like prophecy." "A prophet," Kaworu replied, "knows the Will of God. You know now how things are, at least, to the limit of your senses and scope. Whether they have resisted it or submitted to it, the Will of God has brought everyone to this point in time and shall carry them forward. All is a consequence of what has been and what has a chance of happening in the future." "But...but..." Shinji slumped down into a desk, still reluctant to believe in his own extraordinary achievement. "I don't buy it," he stated finally. "I can't believe that God or anybody put everybody out there for a reason." "Need there be a particular reason?" Shinji looked up in shock as Kaworu went on, gently reprimanding. "God is, Shinji. All other definitions are limitations, and hence, to a greater or lesser degree, blasphemous. God is, and God's will has carried in all to this point. Why look for a reason here and now? Why not look for _the_ reason, and watch it cascade down to this world and this instant?" A moment's pause, and he went on. "You are now in possession of the facts. Your colleagues are ill at ease. Prophecy, Shinji. Go a step further than we have explored thus far. What is the Will of God? Not just now. Again and again, return to the source of splendor." It was a little while before Shinji answered, choosing his words with care. "If someone's scared, I fell like I should give them some comfort. But I don't know..." He took a deep breath and said, "I don't know what to do to comfort everyone. I'm probably the least-liked guy on campus right now. If I go out there right now, I don't think one person is going to feel that much better. I'm just one person. I can't do it all by myself." "Then don't do it." Shinji raised his head to see Kaworu's smiling face close to his own. "Then don't do it alone, Ikari Shinji. There is nothing written that says you must, or should, always take the mantle of responsibility up alone. You have friends, Shinji. Would they not help you know, in the hour everyone feels terror to their marrow? Might not someone know a fact, or have an idea, that you do not?" "Fuyutsuki-sensei might." Both boys turned to stare. Ayanami Rei, silent and forgotten like an icicle, broke her silence to help assemble the facts. "You could speak to Fuyutsuki-sensei," said the girl serenely. "We know where he lives. We have an invitation to return. Perhaps Fuyutsuki-sensei knows of the meeting of the faculty. He could talk to them. He could tell his former students to be calm. They will listen." "Bravo, friend Rei!" said Kaworu, clapping his hands together with joy. "You are verily sunlight that brightens our quest!" Rei glanced out from underneath Kaworu's gaze as the boy turned, to face Shinji. "With this in mind, when do you think we can see Fuyutsuki-sensei?" "I guess we could see him," Shinji admitted, pleased with the revelation. He looked at his wrist watch. "It's a little bit after 10. He'll be up by now." _I didn't think we'd spent so much time here,_ he thought, failing to notice Aoba's mysterious departure or that the ground where he had once been standing was hot to the touch. -- Fuyutsuki Kouzou received them at twenty minutes past ten. He wore a brown robe over Occidental-style pajamas, striped blue and white, and indoor slippers. An old newspaper lay folded on one side of the table where they sat. The morning sun glinted on an exquisite gilded tea-set. "I don't believe I've made your acquaintanceship," Fuyutsuki said to Kaworu, "but it's my sincere pleasure. What brings the three of you to visit me on a pleasant summer morning like this?" Two pairs of red eyes looked to Shinji. He took a drink of tea, cleared his throat, and said, "I'm worried." "About what?" said the older man, curious. "About...well, it's like this. We were going to class this morning...and I could feel a sense of fear around me. Rei and Kaworu and I were...busy...yesterday, and we didn't hear that classes had been cancelled. So. We heard it from Shigeru that there's going to be a big meeting...ah, of faculty members and such." He fell silent, self- conscious, hoping he hadn't let too much slip with the bending of the truth. But his worries were unnecessary. Fuyutsuki, with a sigh, weighed in to the discussion. "It was a mistake to let word of it slip out. I think one of...oh, it doesn't make sense to point fingers and blame one person or the other. The fact is that a meeting that should have been kept unpublicized from the student body wasn't, so we cancelled classes as a response. We hoped it would placate the students, you know, distract them. Maybe give them some time to reflect." "I don't think it's working," Shinji broke in, surprising himself with his own audacity. "I think the faculty's silence, and our being out of class, is allowing the students to jump to our own conclusions about what's going to happen here at the Academy. We've just seen people go missing and turn up dead...I don't like the way that things are headed. It isn't sitting well with the students." Fuyutsuki leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "So what would you then do?" he asked. Feeling his inspiration ebb, Shinji cast down his eyes. "I'm just a kid, sensei. I don't have the experience of being in crises to draw on...I don't know what's the right thing to do." "'Just a kid'...that's a very humbling thing to admit, Shinji-kun. Especially at your age." He drew himself up out of his chair and spoke words of value. "The three of you are all approaching adulthood in a time unlike any other in all of recorded human history...what little of it there is to come, at any rate. The outside world no longer exists-- you know that now, don't you, Shinji-kun? It must have been terrible for you to find out, my condolences. To make matters more complex, a score of years separate the youngest of us from the oldest of you. And this is a separation that will not be overcome until the last of us lies in his grave. "What will the future be like, I wonder? All things will come to pass. The children today, you, will be grown tomorrow, having your own families. Myth will replace innovation, memories will fade and books crumble. What will the campus be like in 100 years? Two hundred? Ten thousand? Is there any kind of a future? "It makes me weep," he said to them, "to think of what the future holds for you. Time and enmity separated your father and me, Shinji, and I could not stop his madness. But I am damned if I'll give up the fight to rest what soul he had." He stood, looking stronger than he had in months. "I must do what I can, Shinji. I must teach you and your friends, and all of my students, while I can. You may be 'just a kid' now, young man, but soon you will be full-grown. And it would be an unforgivable sin if I did not help you get there." He got down on his knees and pressed his forehead against the ground before his three startled guests. He was smiling and tearing when he stood. "Thank you, young man. You've helped me find a sense of purpose in these times of trouble. Let me thank you. Would you not come to the board meeting tomorrow? I'm sure they'd appreciate a student's perspective." "Who? Me?" Shinji was awestruck, and looked from one to the other of his housemates to assure himself that he was not dreaming. "Suh--sensei, I'd love to, but...do you think it's enough?" "I'm sure it will be. Just speak from the heart, like you were speaking now." "All right. Thank you, thank you, sensei." He rose, bowing, and his companions followed suit. "It's such an honor. Could I talk to you about my father, sometime? Perhaps?"