Chapter 3
"That's it, the rest is on foot," Misato said, unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping out of the car first. "You can leave your things here for now; you can pick them up on the way back."
"Okay," I replied, climbing out of the cabin and shifting my weight from heel to toe, trying to stretch my slightly stiff legs. To be honest, I don't particularly like sitting next to the driver; the back seats are more comfortable, especially when there's no one else around. You can at least sit diagonally. "What's our move?"
I looked at the hermetic doors we were standing in front of.
Katsuragi smirked and, fishing a pass out of her pocket, pressed it against a scanner embedded in the wall. The device gave an approving green flash and a short beep, after which the leaves hissed aside, revealing a corridor and a tall figure standing right behind them.
"The plan is simple: we head to the meeting point, I leave you there, and..." As she spoke, the woman was looking at me, but as she turned toward the passage mid-sentence, she faltered. "Ik—Good day, Commander Ikari!"
Snapping to attention, the girl pressed her hand over her heart.
"At ease, Captain Katsuragi," Gendo said, measuring her with an indifferent gaze before looking at me, his voice a fraction warmer: "Son."
"Father," I replied with a short nod.
I see he hasn't changed his taste in clothes: a dark blue jacket, a scarlet turtleneck underneath, and classic trousers. And the sunglasses—where would he be without them?
After standing like that for about ten seconds, my father silently turned and marched down the corridor, wordlessly telling us to follow him. I obeyed without much trouble, unlike Misato, who remained in a state of stupor, blinking rapidly.
Catching up with the man, I adjusted my pace to walk just to the right of his shoulder—not quite level, but not too far behind. He sincerely disliked it when someone was out of his field of vision, let alone behind his back. One could start speculating that such behavior speaks of a suspicious character, but I entirely shared Gendo's position.
Everything you cannot see is a potential threat. The key here is not to overdo it; otherwise, you'll wander straight into the far reaches of paranoia. And getting out of the latter is a non-trivial task where a little help wouldn't hurt—like some kind gentlemen in white coats holding a very large syringe.
"How was the trip?" my father asked calmly. Unlike Katsuragi, all the doors seemed to swing open for him automatically.
Cool. It gives off that "big boss" aura.
"Not bad," I shrugged, catching a glimpse of Misato following us at a short distance. "By the way, did you buy out the entire train on purpose?"
Gendo gave a quiet grunt, stopping before a structure that resembled a high-tech elevator with multiple panels.
"Did you appreciate it?" He turned his head slightly, looking at me through the orange lenses of his glasses.
I limited myself to a faint smile, leaving him the right to interpret my answer however he wished.
Waiting for the doors to close, I looked at Katsuragi again, this time trying to determine what the woman was feeling at that moment. Not because I was suddenly interested in her internal state, no. I wanted to gauge my father's stature in this organization through her, using the Captain as a kind of mirror. After all, what your eyes see and what a mirror reflects often don't match.
It was obvious she was uncomfortable. Her expression was too composed, her gaze directed slightly away, her back excessively straight as if she wanted to demonstrate her military bearing.
But there was no overt fear. Rather, it was something like... heightened alertness combined with a blatant desire not to draw unnecessary attention to herself.
Of course, I could be wrong in my observations and conclusions—and in all likelihood, I will be in the end—but my father had clearly managed to establish order here and create an image of high authority that one wouldn't dare cross.
Respectable. But also stressful; I'd have to tighten my own subconscious "bolts" a bit to avoid accidentally tarnishing Gendo's reputation with my behavior.
"I heard you stopped taking cello lessons?" Gendo asked unexpectedly.
Glancing at him, I smirked inwardly, not at all surprised that he was aware of every movement his offspring made.
After all, even if my father didn't take a direct part in my life, he always kept his finger on the pulse, monitoring the slightest changes. And providing "invisible" support when necessary, without ever advertising it. However, the fact that some specific "problems" I faced a couple of years ago suddenly vanished on their own... attributing that to some Destiny or the will of some gods was... naive.
"Yes," I leaned my back against the elevator handrail.
"The reason?" Gendo raised an eyebrow slightly. "I thought you liked it."
"I did," I didn't argue. "But human tastes are quite fickle, aren't they?"
I reinforced my words with a shadow of a smile.
I didn't bother telling him that I simply stopped seeing the point in playing the instrument. Not that it had become boring, no. There is something thrilling about coaxing a melody from yielding strings. However, I had reached the level I wanted, and to progress further would mean dedicating my entire life to the final honing of skills. I had no particular desire to devote the vibrant years of my youth to that.
"Fickleness in taste sometimes suggests a weakness of will," my father's expression remained outwardly indifferent.
I shrugged.
"Everything depends on the statistics. A single instance can only serve as the basis for a hypothesis."
"Sometimes, a hypothesis is enough to build a complete theory."
"Until a theory is proven by practice, there is no point in asserting its immutable postulate."
Fixing me with a piercing gaze, Gendo grunted and closed his eyes, thereby signaling that in this conversation, I had managed to hold my own without falling flat on my face. Naturally, there was no talk of victory; our short exchange was, at most, at the level of a kindergarten debate. And even then, only because my father had voluntarily descended to that level.
It wasn't that I was intentionally underselling my abilities. I simply knew exactly what my conversationalist was truly capable of.
We spent the rest of the elevator ride in silence. Misato swayed almost imperceptibly from heel to toe, my father imitated a statue, and I, having found a comfortable pose, phlegmatically watched the digital panel where the "downward" indicator flashed cheerfully.
We've certainly gone deep, no doubt about it. It definitely smells of something non-trivial; something mundane wouldn't be kept at this depth.
With a quiet beep, the elevator stopped and opened its doors.
We exited in the same order we entered: Gendo first, then me, with Misato bringing up the rear again.
What still surprised me a little was that we hadn't met anyone during this whole time. The size of the complex was mind-boggling, yet... where was all the personnel? I doubt the local processes were automated to the point where a handful of administrators was enough.
"No questions?" Gendo muttered as he led us through yet another set of doors that swung open at the mere sight of him.
Stifling a chuckle, I shook my head.
"There would be too many, and for the most part, they'd be general," I replied calmly, tucking my thumbs into my pants pockets. "I prefer to clarify matters as they arise."
Katsuragi, whose clicking heels echoed off the walls, sighed quietly and murmured something barely audible under her breath.
"Then ask about the nature of what is happening," Gendo said. Because of the lighting, it was hard to see my father's face, but I was sure he smiled slightly.
"And will you answer?" I wondered if these corridors would ever end.
"Once you see it all—yes."
"Then why ask now?"
An even more dejected groan came from Misato's side. Apparently, she isn't a fan of listening to hollow conversations. Well, I can only offer my condolences. I certainly don't intend to change anything.
Especially if it annoys the girl...
Perhaps there's a bit of a sadist in me.
---
The place Gendo led us to was a fairly large hangar with a wide metal bridge leading over an orange liquid that looked like orange juice. However, I paid that no mind, far more mesmerized by what exactly was in that sludge. I literally froze in the doorway, causing Misato to crash into me. But again, I didn't pay the slightest attention to that.
The only thing spinning in my head was a question I immediately voiced to my father:
"Is that... a giant robot?"
It was hard to miss the huge mechanical head sticking out of the water, resembling a cross between a human and an animal face, the sight of which kept me rooted to the spot.
Instead of Gendo, an unfamiliar female voice answered:
"No, Shinji-kun, that is only the upper part of the 'giant robot'."
Without taking my eyes off the massive thing encased in purple armor, I murmured:
"Thanks, I wouldn't have guessed that myself..."
Bypassing a blonde woman in a medical coat, I gripped the railing of the bridge, trying to get as close a look as possible at the robot's elongated "muzzle."
There was something alluring and yet repulsive about it, causing a strange feeling of discomfort that I couldn't quite describe, mixed with a certain attraction. It was frightening, yet I felt a nagging urge to reach out and touch the cold metal.
"Meet the first generation Evangelion, or Eva-01 for short," Gendo said, stepping beside me and adjusting his glasses with his index finger. "The most perfect weapon ever devised by mankind."
"A weapon against whom?" the question escaped me on its own.
My father chuckled softly, also leaning against the railing and bending forward slightly.
"Not against humans."
Blinking, I ran my tongue over my lips, feeling the desire to touch the robot growing stronger by the second.
"So, the Scientologists were right and aliens exist," I smirked, looking at the Eva's yellow eyes, which alone were nearly a meter long.
Behind us came a forced cough from Katsuragi, followed by the sound of a hand slapping a back.
"If such a monstrosity isn't needed for fighting humans, we can rule out animals too," I decided to voice the interim conclusions I had intentionally omitted earlier. "And since it's a 'perfect weapon'... that only leaves extraterrestrials?"
Finally breaking the hypnotic trance the robot had induced, I turned to my father, awaiting an answer that would either confirm my words or completely debunk them.
"Why only extraterrestrials? There are, for example, demons," Gendo asked in a quite serious tone.
Scratching the scar on my wrist, I gave a short grunt.
"Demons and angels are just the same aliens, only with a different sauce," I said, unable to resist the temptation to stare at the Eva again. "The 'out-of-towner' factor is what's important; it doesn't matter if they're from another planet, dimension, or plane of existence."
"Quite an unusual opinion, Shinji-kun," commented the unfamiliar blonde in the medical coat, who had approached and stood next to me on my left.
Resting my arms on the railing, I tilted my head to study the badge on the woman's clothes.
Ritsuko Akagi, Head of the NERV Technical Department.
Hmm, I can test something here.
"I wasn't claiming to be a genius," I said, thinking for a moment before adding: "Dr. Akagi." I lifted the corners of my lips as I finished: "And I apologize for not saying hello; I was too impressed by this... magnificent creation."
Judging by the pleased glint in her eyes, my guess was correct—this individual was directly involved in the development of the Eva. Consequently, praise for her creation was automatically praise for her. Besides, I should have apologized anyway, as I planned to behave decently.
Of course, I could have expressed myself more elegantly to show off my rich vocabulary, but as I had learned before, excessive flourishes often lead to poor results. Especially if you're a teenager. Keep it simple. People will relate to you better.
"There's nothing strange about that. After all, Project Evangelion is the pinnacle of technological progress in the current era!" No, Ritsuko definitely holds her skills in high regard.
"Quite right," Gendo confirmed her words. "The perfect armor created to fight those who cannot be defeated by conventional means."
Laughing briefly, I ran my hand over my short-cropped hair.
"I'm afraid to imagine what the enemy is capable of if it requires creating something like this."
Misato, the only one who remained on the sidelines, grunted gloomily:
"Better not even try." Turning my head, I looked at the Captain, whose face had darkened noticeably. Seeing my gaze, she gave a crooked smile. "Ever read Lovecraft?"
"Eldritch, indescribable horrors that the meager human mind cannot comprehend?" I clarified ironically, recalling a couple of stories by a certain odious gentleman with a love for the spawn of the Necronomicon.
"There is nothing science cannot handle," Dr. Akagi said, seemingly not very fond of the writer. "It's just a question of how much time and effort it will take."
Not wanting to argue, I limited myself to another smile and, to ensure the topic didn't continue, turned back to my father:
"So, how exactly are the Eva and my appearance here connected?" There was no point in beating around the bush, especially when I could ask directly.
Gendo, casting a look at the robot, sighed.
"What do you think, son?"
Then again, why ask what you already indirectly know? Probably just to be sure. Besides, my father had expressed himself quite clearly earlier by calling the machine ahead "armor." And if it's armor, someone is obliged to get inside it.
The catch was something else.
"Why me?" I asked calmly, keeping the smile on my face and squinting slightly—and not by choice.
I had this trait whenever I started to get nervous. Where it came from, I don't know, but it was there. Human psychology is a subject you can't master without years of study. But there's a problem: even with the knowledge, you need years of experience.
"I will answer that question for you a little later," Gendo straightened up and looked at Ritsuko. "Dr. Akagi, perform all the tests on my son. We need to be sure that the MAGI's calculations were not in error."
The blonde frowned slightly.
"The MAGI have never been wrong in their calculations." I don't know what she's talking about, but Akagi clearly looks stung.
"'Never' does not mean a fundamental truth. Even the most proven methods can misfire," my father said cold-bloodedly, his tone making it clear he would tolerate no objections.
The scientist straightened up more than usual and nodded.
"I understand, Commander Ikari." Her dark brown eyes looked at me. "Shinji-kun, follow me."
And without waiting for an answer, she turned and clicked away in the opposite direction from which we had come.
Laughing inwardly, I followed her calmly, noticing that Misato, looking even more displeased than before, joined us as well. Only Gendo remained where he was, watching me go with an unreadable gaze.
First, he invited me to God-knows-where, stood me in front of a huge robot (which, in theory, I will pilot), and now he's sending me for tests with a lady whose medical skills I know absolutely nothing about.
Oh well...
I can only hope that Ritsuko Akagi knows how to separate personal feelings from work. I know the type: they'll accidentally poke the needle in the wrong place or "forget" the correct dosage of painkillers.
I wasn't worried that they might take me apart or perform some absolutely inhumane experiments on my body.
Otherwise, my father wouldn't have put on this performance. He is a loving parent, of course (though my uncle strongly doubts it), but first and foremost, he is a highly pragmatic man who wouldn't waste his energy on useless activities.
Well, at least I hope so.
---
Misato Katsuragi, having escaped the direct presence of Commander Ikari, finally allowed herself to exhale fully.
Sitting down in a comfortable, soft chair, she unashamedly propped her feet up on the desk and, armed with a cup of hot coffee, took a noisy sip.
"What do you think of him?"
Ritsuko, actively puffing on a cigarette, was intently studying the readings on the monitor. The doctor had tried to explain what they meant once, but the Captain hadn't remembered a thing. Her head was already constantly filled with endless reports anyway.
"Of whom?" Akagi typed something quickly on the keyboard and then, turning on a voice recorder, said: "Blood pressure is fine. Brain is free of pathologies. General condition is rated A+."
Turning off the recording device, the blonde massaged the bridge of her nose.
"If you mean the younger Ikari, then..." Taking advantage of the fact that Shinji couldn't see them through the thick glass—which provided a view of the boy but blocked the view from the other side—the head of the technical department rolled her eyes. "He's almost a total copy of his father. Just a bit more human."
Reaching for the microphone stand, Ritsuko activated it.
"Shinji-kun, you can detach all the wires, get out, and get dressed."
The teenager, who had been lying in a capsule surrounded by a bunch of equipment whose purpose Misato could only guess at, gave a thumbs-up and began slowly disconnecting the many suction cups.
"You've drawn those conclusions from the first meeting?" Misato raised an eyebrow, waiting until the doctor turned off the microphone.
Having obtained all the necessary medical data, Akagi saved it while simultaneously stubbing out her cigarette, only to immediately reach for another. Sometimes Katsuragi wondered what would kill her friend faster: the eternal overtime or the excess of nicotine paired with caffeine.
"No, I came to that conclusion after studying his personal file. A copy of which, by the way," the smoldering tip of the cigarette pointed at the Captain's face, "was provided to you."
The head of the operations department laughed awkwardly and looked away.
"Well, I thought it was better to make my own conclusions than to have someone else's biased opinion," the girl tried to justify herself.
Ritsuko, rewarding her former roommate and current colleague with a heavy look, sighed and shook her head.
"And what did you come up with?"
The smile slowly slid off Misato's face, and her eyes darkened noticeably.
"He gives me a dual feeling." Katsuragi watched without blinking as Shinji slowly dressed, actively displaying a body developed beyond his years. "On one hand, he's a teenager, though not quite an ordinary one. On the other..."
Licking her lips, the Captain tried to find the right word to describe all the feelings that the short conversation with the boy on the way to NERV had managed to evoke in her.
In the end, the girl exhaled loudly, finished her coffee, and set the cup down on the table with a clack.
"On the other?" Akagi leaned forward, slightly interested.
Misato was saved from answering (or admitting that she couldn't put her vague sensations and images into words) by Shinji himself, as he stepped out of the medical room.
"Is anything else required?" Gendo's son adjusted the sleeves of his sweatshirt. "Or am I free to go?"
"Are you in a hurry somewhere?" Katsuragi cut in immediately, pretending not to notice her friend's slightly mocking look.
Letting out a grunt, the younger Ikari scratched his chin and calmly stated:
"I want oranges."
Blinking in confusion, the head of the operations department resisted the urge to dig a finger into her ear.
"What was it you wanted?" the Captain clarified just in case.
The boy repeated without any trouble:
"Oranges. I want oranges, Katsuragi-san."
"If I were you, I would slightly reduce your dosage of Vitamin C. An excess of it is also harmful to the body," Akagi noted, crossing her legs and letting out a trail of thick blue smoke.
Shinji didn't say anything to that. He just closed his eyes and smiled softly, sending a shiver down Misato's spine, though there was no obvious reason for it.
No, there is definitely more to this teenager than meets the eye.
But exactly what it was, Katsuragi couldn't quite grasp.