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?"
--
They allowed him to sleep late the next morning. Shinji had been through 
several straight days of exhausting activity, and had earned his 
respite. Nagisa Kaworu and Ayanami Rei practiced their kendo at dawn on 
the rooftop as they had done the mornings before. Each also picked up a 
fencing saber, but they could not understand how to use them. So they 
replaced them in Shinji's bag, then sat together in the front room of 
Akumafune Dormitory to talk.

"I will be leaving soon," he said in Aramaic to his bride. "My time here 
has been extraordinary. I have found out such wonderful things about 
this world. When I came here, I knew the word 'kendo'; and yet I could 
not conceive of myself picking up a sword to practice for a sport. A 
moment on a rooftop has become a searing lightning bolt for me. Yet I do 
not regret the thought of leaving. Friend Shinji has helped me to grow, 
and so I have faith that he will recover from the wound to his heart."

"I will come with you," she replied. "Although Shinji became my 
bridegroom by virtue of the material world, he has led me to you 
fearlessly. Every instant when I have been with him I have been in 
rapture. But then he stood aside as you came to me, something I could 
not imagine or understand before you came. Kaworu my beloved, I will 
return to the source with you."

"You must ask your bridegroom's permission."

"I shall. Today."

Kaworu patted her hand, then his face grew somber. "I must not die," he 
said solemnly. "For you there is less danger. But as Shinji's teacher, 
there is a danger that I shall die. Then...I do not know. I must not 
allow myself the temptation to look beyond the night. Of my own free 
will, I must restrain my free will."

They fell silent. Across the room, picture windows showed the sun 
breaking through the trees. Chevron-shaped shadows from the pine trees 
fell onto the backs of the couches. Somewhere, far away, three girls 
laughed about a joke. A single carpet fiber, perhaps kicked up when they 
had entered the room, spun in the air at eye level midway between the 
door and where Rei sat watching its motion.

Was it a moment? Or was it eternity?
--
Ikari Shinji rose to hear the sound of the telephone in his bedroom 
ringing. Struggling irritably out of bed, he staggered across the room 
with blanket around his body and picked up the phone.

"Shinji-kun?" It was Ibuki Maya on the other end of the line. "Where 
were you yesterday? You weren't in class, and nobody could find you 
anywhere."

"Did I miss anything important?" Shinji asked, concerned.

"No," she replied, "people were just wondering where you were. Kensuke-
kun told me that he took notes for you...but where were you?"

"I was in the greenhouse all day," he explained, "with Rei and Kaworu. 
We were meditating."

"OK," Maya said complacently. "I guess I can understand that. Are you 
going to be busy today, too?"

"Yes, I am. Even though it isn't good for me to be cutting class, I'm 
going to be busy today and tomorrow."

"Oh, I get it. That's why you wanted to play the cello for me tomorrow, 
not yesterday."

"That's right." Shinji glanced to the door as Rei and Kaworu entered. 
"Keep an eye out for me tomorrow around midday tomorrow, after you get 
done with your morning sessions. I'll see you then, Maya-chan."

"Plan on it! Bye-bye!"

Shinji hung up the phone and turned to his housemates. "Rei and I have 
already practiced our kendo," Kaworu explained. "Your absence was 
missed, but a good night's rest was much more important."

Rei said, "I feel well-exercised and ready for today." Then she added, 
"Shinji, I would like to talk to you. When my beloved Kaworu leaves, I 
would like your consent to go with him."

"Leave...with Kaworu?" Shinji said. "Rei...you and Kaworu...both leave?"

The quiet girl nodded. "The wages of variety is loss, Shinji. You did 
not have to do so, but you have transformed my life into something 
infinitely more beautiful than it could have been without you here. And 
Kaworu tells me the same thing. You have allowed two people who once 
upon a time were strangers into your house and allowed us to stay 
together. We have grown together as bride and bridegroom not because it 
was our roles to be so--as once upon a time it was--but because we have 
grown together as two souls. If two roses grow together and intertwine 
while they are still small, there does not need to be any trellis to 
support them.

"The time that Kaworu needs to teach you is almost over. The lights 
descend. We no longer know our roles upon the stage. Quick, before the 
night grows too cold and dark, we must look back to our source and 
return to our original nature. One eye looks up towards Heaven where we 
may yet still reach; the other looks to the dust of this Earth, where 
once we stood."

Shinji wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "I must let you go, and 
bless you," he said. "Everything around me screams that I must do this. 
Is this wise, Kaworu?"

"This is Wisdom, friend Shinji. Hokhmah." Again that husk on the first 
syllable, Chakhmah. "From where it stands, Hokhmah allows the will of 
God to flow freely between Heaven and Earth. It is water, rain, snow, 
everywhere all at once. It is unspoken thought, consciousness that 
freezes and becomes memory. The hush that flows over the land accepts 
the Spark and becomes Binah, perception as comprehension.

"To probe Hokhmah as far as is right, you must meditate, friend Shinji. 
You must meditate with an absolutely open and empty mind. You must lose 
yourself--but not too deeply, NEVER too deeply--in the seas of 
information."

Ikari Shinji took a deep breath, then he let out slowly. He over onto 
his right hand side and tucked his arms and legs up in a fetal position. 
Then he began to cry. His forehead was not tense, and yet the waters 
flowed freely from his eyes. He did not sob, he continued his regular 
breathing. In and out, and back in again. In his mind, an image that 
could not be described with the human tongue formed. It was wet, yet 
there was no such thing as dryness to contrast it with. It was dark, but 
there was no such thing as light. It was neither warm nor cool--it was 
his temperature, and he was its temperature, and neither one nor the 
other could have any warmth without its partner's existence.

The dizzying, narcotic effect of the tears pulled him down. 
Psychological strain broke wide the barrier in his mind. Weeping evolved 
to allow animals to counteract their pain, yet Shinji did not have any 
obvious source of pain. He was not alone, he was not unprotected, he was 
free to do as he chose. But he cried. And his unconscious mind struggled 
to find something to cry about. Where was the source? Where was the 
origin of this sorrow that must be fought, that must be defended 
against?

Around and around his mind chased itself, swimming while the conscious 
image of the unconscious mind stayed in his thoughts. His breathing grew 
deeper and slower still. He forgot his name, his place, the five senses 
of the tongue, what it was like to be right-handed. The unseeable sight 
bonded tighter and tighter with what little of him remained. Somewhere, 
there was a pain building--in his chest? Did he have a chest? The sound 
"chest", what did it represent? Salts and fluids had all but sealed his 
eyes closed. He was drowning in the indescribable sea.

The perineum between his testes and his anus burst open, and he gave 
birth to himself.
--
WHITE

White light so bright, intense, indefensible; it flowed everywhere. 
White. Nothing more could be seen. Rock salt pain, screaming into, 
around and through.

There was an up, and a down, and an all around. There was a need, a need 
to end the confusion, stop the pain. The mind could not register this 
sudden flux of information. There was no way to file it all. It grabbed 
blindly at whatever came in and stuffed it away. Toe. Yummy. Right. 
Clutch. Data points from all through the universe, and nothing to be 
done with them.

Time passed, and still there was almost no reduction to the data stream. 
Some nerves, perhaps, had been allowed to atrophy from disuse, but those 
that remained churned out tremendous volumes of output. And as much as 
each one spewed towards the mind, they all demanded continuous input as 
well. What was to be done? What was for the good?

Somehow, whether through pure chance or Pavlovian association, a pattern 
did become established in the mental nuclear chaos. This pattern was one 
of limitation. He realized that he was. He existed. He existed in a 
finite dimensional space. And there were other things out there, too. 
Some provided food. Some removed painful objects. Some caused pain, and 
fear.

His mind tried to apply algorithms to the world at large. In response to 
particular stimuli, he did particular things. When someone said the word 
"Shinji," he learned to turn himself in its direction. When someone said 
"food", he tried to move his body towards it.

These algorithms percolated out from the depths of the nuclear mind as a 
kind of shield, a bulwark, while the nuclear mind was preoccupied with 
its data collection and integration. Soon, the bulwark was providing its 
own information. Mouth. Anus. Hands. Feet. Teeth. Each defined a 
limitation on his identity, on his world view. The primitive mind was 
simultaneously fascinated and terrified by this development. There were 
limitations to his world, tools, things he could use to be loved and to 
be sheltered...but...there were also limits to what he could do! That 
might mean that he could be hurt and abandoned!

One mind raged. How was it to generate an algorithm? How was it to come 
up with a means to solve this existential conflict when the hand was 
becoming cold, and the stomach had a pain, and the kidney was not in 
osmotic balance, and there was still no way to organize the data? The 
other, the mind that had arisen to defend its older self, gave few if 
any answers. It was taking on an identity of its own. It seemed 
simultaneously terrified and intrigued by its parent body.

Algorithms were established. By day, the shield--the conscious mind--
dominated the decision making process while listening to the data 
provided by its host--the unconscious mind. By night, when the conscious 
mind was needed little if at all, the unconscious mind could have its 
irrational sway. It would frantically disinter data that needed 
immediate compaction; pains of the body, incomplete algorithms generated 
by the conscious mind, and the occasional thoughts that synapses had 
rejuvenated simply by misfiring. The conscious mind was oftentimes 
disturbed by these behaviors, yet the algorithms it sent back in 
response went largely ignored.

The conflicting situation was dangerous. It could not last forever.

Late one night, when the conscious mind was insisting that it stay in 
control--despite the terrific amounts of hunger, loneliness and cold it 
was generating--the unconscious mind rose. It clashed with the conscious 
mind. The shield started sending strings of data back down--it perceived 
the meaningless data as a shape, much like what it conceived itself as.

"Who are you?" it inquired, and it received the response, "Ikari 
Shinji."

Confusion and fear screamed, "But _I_ am Ikari Shinji!"

The unconscious mind threw great fistfuls of data "There is the Ikari 
Shinji that observes and the Ikari Shinji that is observed," it said in 
chaotic imagery, more fury than speech. "You are the one that the world 
sees, and I am the one who lies within. I count your every heartbeat, I 
kiss awake your capillaries when blood flows through them, I greet every 
neuron as it fires a message up and down your spine. And this absolute 
cognizance has given me incredible power. I am stronger than you."

A golden string of comprehension slipped across both minds. "Why are you 
here?"

"Because we are in pain. You only know this dimly, but I can remember 
days when you greeted the world and everyone in it with joy, a purer joy 
than I have words for. I want those days again, and so do you. We want 
the approval of others. We want the security that comes with this 
approval. However, despite my power, I cannot achieve these ends. You 
can."

Fear at the thought of power. "I do not understand."

Fear begat power, and the unconscious danced across its oily surface. "I 
propose that we cooperate. I have the power, and you have the 
opportunity. If we work together, nothing is impossible. What do you 
say?"

And the conscious sea was stilled. Slipping back and forth, rising and 
falling on the knowledge it carried, the unconscious was a thousand-mile 
cobra living in a sea of creosote. "What do I have to do?"

Somewhere, a trumpet caroled.

" Take off the blanket and stand up, like a man. Good. Clear your mind. 
Listen for the sound in between the raindrops. Stand like you're holding 
your sword. Step and raise the blade. Follow through. Now, every time 
you swing, I want you to recite this mantra, which I will give to you. 
The mantra is..."
--
Ikari Shinji looked out over the kingdom. He placed his feet on the 
foundation. He had a vision of a splendid moment, and the moment became 
an eternal victory. Tense, he sought the beauty of the balance. Power 
concentrated in one hand, love in the other. He understood the nature of 
the change, and brought power and love together. Wisdom poured forth.
--
"The mantra is, 'Spark.'"

"'Pika'?" He laughed. "What a silly mantra. What's that mean?"

"You can mend anything by what you do," he replied to himself. "There 
are sparks of holiness in all things from the first day of creation. God 
said, 'I am.' But that one word was too big for the universe to 
hold...and so God said, 'What am I, that I am?' And He withdrew, leaving 
in his wake an infinite vacuum. God answered his own question by saying, 
'Let there be light.' And so there is--there are little tiny sparks of 
light that imbue everything, from the tiniest bug to the dreams of a 
blue whale. And you can set them free and return them to God."

"Really?"

"It is true. Everything you do is a prayer because of these sparks. So 
when you do anything, even practicing with your sword, let it be a 
prayer. Consciously thank God for your practice."

He shifted nervously with the sword in his hands and said, "This is 
really gonna make me a better swordsman?"

"All else will follow," he answered.

They drifted apart as the boy began to chant, "Spark! Spark! Spark!"

Their last words together were Ikari Shinji's own. "I will give her your 
love for the both of us."
--
A lightning bolt one hundred letters long flashed down through the 
heavens and exploded against the roof of Akumafune Dormitory. Tiles fell 
from the roof and the windows rattled. Nagisa Kaworu and Ayanami Rei 
clutched at one another in surprise. Before them, Shinji rolled out of 
his fetal position and stretched his limbs.

"Welcome back, Shinji," Kaworu said, relieved to be talking again for 
the first time in hours. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted," he replied with a smile. "I never knew meditation could be 
so tiring. What time is it now?"

"3:02 in the afternoon," Rei said, glancing at the clock by the bedside. 
"You have been meditating for most of the day."

The two stood and helped Shinji to his feet. "I think I need a bath," he 
said. "Then let's eat...I don't think I've eaten all day."

"Quite the contrary, friend Shinji," said Kaworu. "You are blessed to 
have eaten some of the most succulent food ever. And we are both 
thankful for that."