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Phase 11: A Premeditated Escape
At 3:57 am on Sunday, June 5, C.E. 73, Chiakko Kavne pulled off his glasses and sat back in his chair, sweating and sucking air, sure now, but hardly able to believe what he alone in all his world knew.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, meeting the sublime by turning to the vulgar.
He rubbed his eyes and combed his fingers through his tangled scribbly hair and sat, staring blankly, for a few moments longer. Then he called Cagalli.
“You’re joking,” Cagalli whispered. “Dr. Kavne, if you have called me at four in the morning and this isn’t for real –”
“I’m serious.”
“Have you told anyone else yet?”
“No. You’re the first. My fellow researchers will kill me, but I thought you’d like to be the first to know.” Cagalli, standing before the vid-screen, smiled and sent a mental apology to the rest of the medical crew. She heard Kavne’s urgent voice again. “Wake your friends up and get them on the VR net.”
Cagalli didn’t say anything, but Kavne understood her silence.
“It was the signal that did it. I figured if the panels were still picking up electrical impulses even after I’ve shut down all the instruments in the lab, then they had to be coming from Kira’s body. So I did a TEM scan of one of his tissue samples. Cagalli, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
“Dr. Kavne, are you certain it’s not just some kind of bizarre artefact – sample contamination or something? I mean, it could be anything.”
“I just spent three hours verifying and checking and trying to disprove. It’s not a fluke, I tell you. Have you heard about the Micro-functional Humanised Robotics technology?”
“Yes,” Cagalli started, confused, “but research on it had been abandoned almost twenty years ago and it’s still stuck in the pre-clinical phase…” Her voice trailed off as realization dawned. “Dr. Hibikiactually went aheadand…”
“Precisely. Kira is the perfect example of successful integration of MHR technology in humans. Hell, I’m not sure if he is even human now.” Kavne joked lamely, mouth drawn up in his silly crescent smile. The smile soon twisted into a grimace. “For crying out loud, wake them up and get on the net.”
“No, listen. If this is real, then virtual reality isn’t good enough. Look, we’ll be off in, say, an hour. So we should be there by –” She found she could not add. Her mind just went blank. Kira. Alive. Alive!
“About ten o’clock,” Kavne supplied. “Okay, I’ll be there. And Cagalli?”
Cagalli remained silent, hardly daring to breathe.
“The nanobots have done a wonderful job. The wound –” he jabbed his forehead, “– it has closed up without a scar. I’ve started the infusion some time ago; he should come round in three hours.”
“Thanks.” Cagalli struggled in vain to keep her tears in check. “Thanks. For everything.”
“Hey, if discoveries like this are the thanks I get, you are entirely welcome. I’ll see you in a couple of hours. And Cagalli?” Kavne grinned. “Congratulations. This is fantastic.”
The halogram faded. Cagalli turned away and walked out through the open door in a daze. As soon as she was in the corridor she began to run. She flew up the stairs and reached Athrun’s room in less than five seconds.
She knocked on the door, softly at first, then louder. There was no answer.
She called out, “Athrun?” No answer.
She tried the door and to her surprise found it unlocked. She went in.
The room was silent and there was no one in it, and yet all the furniture was still in place. The bed was not slept in. Everything seemed to be normal until she started opening drawers and looking into cupboards. There were no clothes or shoes anywhere. They had all gone.
Goodbye, Cagalli. I am going away, to Orb; after that I shall leave for – another place, with Rice. I shall not see any of you again, I think.
I am going away, it is the least hurt I can do you. I am not cruel, Cagalli, but I feel myself quite worn out, as though unable to resume the habit of loving and afraid lest you should have to suffer again because of it.
You think I was cowardly? What a small heart mine is! Yet a few years ago it would have been worthy of yours, which offers itself so simply. But now… what could I give you? In a few years’ time the best of myself would be that frustrationa bitter man transfers to his wife. You do not accept that and neither do I. It is a pity.
I no longer dare, Cagalli, that is the whole truth. Don’t be angry if I have hidden so long from you my efforts to resuscitate in myself the enthusiasm, the adventurous fatalism, the blind hope, the whole escort of love. The only delirium I feel is that of my senses. And sadly, there is none whose intervals are more lucid.
Turn away from me and choose… all that is not me: that youth, that fresh unspoilt innocence, that faith in the future and in yourself, in a word, the love that you deserve, the love that I could once have given you. Don’t seek me out. If you were to walk in here, before me, while I am writing to you… but you will not walk in.
Goodbye.
Athrun
… … End of Phase 11 … …
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