Cut, pull, rinse, repeat. With each careful movement he separated a single nerve from flesh, extracting Carmen's consciousness from her body, bit by bit. A temporary implant stabilized his hand, preventing him from accidently cutting a nerve—or worse—damaging the brain.
The implant wasn't workshop-made, he improvised it himself using whatever was left at the old lab. He simply didn't have the funds to run a fully automated surgery, the attack by the head left him with nary an ahn to his name.
But that mattered little. There was only one path forward, and he would walk it to the very end, just as he had promised her. Something as trivial as money wouldn't stop them.
Tech could be improvised, meals could be skipped, illnesses could be ignored. The moment he extracted the first dose of enkephalin, all material obstacles will be overcome. R Corp would bend the knee soon enough, all he needed was proof the technology was real.
Cut, pull, rinse, repeat. The scalpel moved with perfect precision, allowing not a single drop of blood to hit the floor, cutting not a single tendon along the way.
It was clean, extremely so. He had not a single stain upon his body. It was far cleaner than what they did to Enoch .
For the first few hours of the surgery, it would've been impossible to tell whether Carmen was being worked upon at all, yet such illusions wouldn't last forever. Slowly, like vines creeping up her body, cuts appeared across her skin.
From her legs and arms up it went, to her waist, her chest, then finally her neck. By the time he had reached the skull and the spine, Carmen's body was nothing more than an unrecognizable pile of flesh placed into a disposal bin.
After a two day surgery, Carmen floated in a tank, still alive, likely still lucid. Not a single drop of blood stained him yet.
Despite his exhaustion, he found himself leaning against the tank rather than going to bed. He poured two glasses, something he found in Giovanni's old stock. One for himself, the other for his last and only companion.
"We did it Carmen. Cogito is real, you were right all along…" Already he saw the unit begin to collect Cogito, the fruits of their labor, finally blossoming after all these years.
"..."
There was no answer, of course there wasn't. He toasted with Carmen before finishing his glass in a single breadth, to celebrate the future that will be.
"..."
"Will you not drink?"
"..."
"I suppose you never did like alcohol, unlike me. You and Benjamin would always berate me and Giovanni about it, it's one of the few things we found something in common."
"..."
He took the glass he poured for Carmen and finished it in a single breadth. Perhaps another him would've drank in place of the tears that never fell, to mourn those whom had fallen. That would've been a less rational Ayin, for he truly had nothing to grieve for.
Grief was not a requirement, their presence not a necessity.
He who will write the project, she who will build it.
They alone shall see Carmen's dream completed.
Three thousand years. That's how long it's been since he's seen Carmen, when he ran a scan on her neural structure to create Angela.
He still remembered every little detail that went into her extraction; every cut, every nerve, every bit of flesh he violated in the name of their dream. He had denied it at the time, believing that he was simply following her wishes; but his sins run too deep to be denied forever.
His thoughts were disturbed by a familiar voice. "You have built the courage to face her again, I see."
"Garion." He nodded curtly in greeting. She stopped beside him, looking upon the Singularity of L Corp. It was silent for a while after that, the two of them staring at their shared companion in hell.
"..."
Garion spoke. "It would be a shame to come all this way just to not have a proper meeting, no? Come." He followed suit without question.
On the other side of the containment tank were two chairs and a simple table, a water boiler and a tea set lay in the corner of the room. He didn't comment on the breach of protocol, it served him just fine for the moment.
He took a seat as Garion went on to prepare tea. Despite his best efforts, Ayin found himself staring at the neural system of Carmen. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bear to look away.
A storm brewed within his heart, as it always does whenever he came here. How much had he repressed? Locked away in the deepest parts of his consciousness.
A cup was set down in front of him. He could tell from the color alone that it was going to taste dreadful. A sip proved his suspicion.
'It's not really about the taste, it's the sensation. You should try—'
'It's always fun observing your body language—'
'You shoulders loosen whenever you're enjoying something—'
It didn't really matter, he supposed. It was never about the taste in the first place.
It was always about the memory. One of the few he clung onto, even as it was slowly buried under his sins.
sip,
sip,
sip.
His and Garion's sips weren't synchronised in the slightest, unlike him and Angela. The lack of rhythm made it much harder to relax than it usually was.
He got the distinct impression the Arbiter was doing it on purpose, it seemed like her only purpose for existing these days was to make him feel uncomfortable.
He finally spoke. "Do you stay here often?" Garion's presence technically wasn't needed here in this room, her duty was with the injection and observation of cogito, not the bucket through which it was made.
She hummed in thought for a moment as she held the steaming cup under her chin.
"Who is to say? The passage of time means little here, all I know is I'm here nearly as often as I'm not." A lot then.
"..."
She continued to speak after a moment. "When everything becomes too burdening, I quietly stare at her. It feels like she and I are the only ones to exist when I do so."
"..."
"Sometimes, it feels like she's speaking to me, even though all that's left of her is an amalgamation of neurons."
A barely noticeable smirk formed on her face. "Tell me, did you come to see her?"
"...Yes."
It widened, ever so slightly. "Ahh, yet you still haven't seen her."
He frowned, prompting her to continue.
"Ever since the day she died, you haven't seen her once, have you? Making excuses for yourself, telling yourself that this is what she would've wanted, screaming within your mind that there's nothing to grieve for when that lie eventually collapsed in on itself."
" 'I have nothing to grieve for' was it?"
Her eyes turned glossy, there was nothing hiding the cruelty in her smile now.
"Even after all these years, not once have you faced reality, staring into an ideal horizon that never existed in the first place."
Something spilled onto his coat.
Ah, it was tea; his hands were shaking, as they did when he extracted Carmen from her body. He slowly placed the cup onto the table before taking a deep breath.
"..."
"..."
"..."
He finally spoke. "We had a serum from K Corp…it could've saved Carmen; hell, it could've saved Enoch if we just had it on hand. He simply destabilized too quickly with too little forewarning, we couldn't have known he'd die within the ten seconds it'd take to bring the syringe that lay on the other side of the laboratory."
"All those years ago, when I opened the second door, I found her bleeding out in a bath—" Bitterness bled into his voice despite his best efforts. "—I had the chance to save her."
"No matter how severe it was, blood loss could've been easily dealt with by a single drop of the serum, and I had more than enough time to bring it. I chose not to, remembering the promise I made to her, that I'd complete the project, no matter what; no matter what may become of her."
Garion listened silently, seeming to take a great interest in his words.
"The serum that failed to save so many of our colleagues in spite of its miraculous healing ability finally found its use, healing the one who had slaughtered us all. All in dedication to the project, I saved you over Carmen."
He smiled. It was a bitter thing, to lay it out so plainly.
"For the project, it was the right choice. You were instrumental to the seed of light, perhaps even more so than I."
She made a sound that almost sounded like a scoff, only more muted. "So that's the justification you've come up with, 'it was for the good of the project'. You could never change, forever running from reality."
'The rationality to maintain discretion.'
He shook his head with confidence that contrasted with the meager resolve within his soul. "No, I'll not claim to have no regrets; I'll not claim that what I did was for the good or the wish of Carmen; I'll not claim to be capable of making the same choice again. To make such a statement is to cling to a false rationality that rots one's soul."
Garion narrowed her eyes at him, he didn't miss the furrowing of her brows.
"No, I accept what I have lost, I accept what I have done, I accept my inability to change it."
His hands were no longer shaking, he picked up his cup once again.
"But I'll not allow grief to drag me down, for nothing good will come from such an action. That, is my rationality." He raised the cup below his chin, it was almost cold by now.
"So at the end of it all, you still run?"
'Please. At least allow yourself to grieve.'
Ayin shook his head once again, now with a confidence that hid no weakness within.
"No…I shall grieve. That's the reason I came here, to grieve for all that I've lost to the world, to regret all I've destroyed with my own two hands. I shall grieve, then rise from this place to manage the facility once again, to keep walking the path I've chosen."
He took a sip. Truly, he despised the taste of bitter tea.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"How did you reach such a conclusion so suddenly?" Garion finally asked, in her usual tone that hid the undercurrent of emotions below.
He let out a chuckle, it felt strange on his throat to make such a sound after so long. "There is nothing sudden about it, Benjamin's been hammering it into my head for over three millennia."
It was silent once again, Garion couldn't hide the thoughtful look that crossed her face.
"You seem to believe ourselves incapable of change, when that is hardly the case. I'm not the man who dug through your brain, you're not the woman who attacked the laboratory. We're shadows of the past, cast into the present by the passage of time—similar, but hardly the same."
How strange it felt, to verbalize three thousand years of understanding. It felt as though all of it was worth something after all.
Something dropped onto his coat.
Ah, it was a tear, as bitter as the tea in his hands.
How liberating it felt, to finally grieve their deaths.
Notes:Garion still wasn't sure what to think of Ayin's now constant presence in her department. Once every couple of loops, he'd come at the dead of night to sit with them, to silently share a cup of tea, shed a few tears, and leave as though nothing had happened.
It was irritating, to see the one who had so completely denied reality, the one who had run from his own tragedy, repeatedly come to face his grief then get up to begin the day anew.
It contradicted everything she knew of the man, the coward who was unable to meet her eyes as he simultaneously violated her body. She expected him to soon relapse into old habits, or to collapse under the weight of the grief he refused to bear back then.
She waited patiently, for the day he breaks, to prove her correct—that neither of them were capable of true change.
She waited.
And she waited.
With each cup emptied, with each tear that fell from his eyes, the less likely it seemed the day would arrive at all. He slowly shed the weight upon his back, bit by bit; coming back each time with eyes that seemed just a little clearer.
She spoke sometimes, questioning his resilience and ripping open wounds from long ago. A comment about The Red Mist, a thinly veiled jab made at the coffee lover, a note on the futility of the project.
He kept her waiting, still not showing a single moment of true weakness. His grief was always tamed, his tears always calculated, never once overwhelming him.
It was…rational, as he had claimed.
Even still, she waited, for there was nothing else to do. Her life ended long ago, when she made an acquaintance with death at the hands of The Red Mist. She had no tomorrow to look towards, for her fate was to end with the facility; when her use had been exhausted, she'll be put out of commission, such is the fate of all arbiters, former or not.
All that awaited her was to wait, to relish in the suffering of others as the end approached, a single step at a time.
So wait she will, relish she will. The day will come when he shatters, and she shall be there to observe, to revel. She'll be patient. After all, the two of them had all the time in the world〜.
Angela carefully observed the plant that rested upon the manager's desk. There were undoubtedly better things to do, work in the facility never ends in spite of its repetition after all.
She could be updating logs on abnormalities, making notes on the traits and mannerisms of employees, or simply figuring out what would best serve as dinner for the manager. But no, she instead found herself staring at a cactus.
It was hardly pleasing to the eye, lumpy and uneven with spikes protruding from every bit of its body. Every bit of logic within her told Angela that it was a completely ordinary plant deserving nothing more than a second's glance.
That evidently wasn't the case, as she clocked the total amount of time spent staring at over seventy nine hours, and quickly rising.
Searching general information handbook.
The cactus is a thick, upright plant shaped by its need to survive in dry, harsh environments, notably the outskirts. Its surface is ridged like folded fabric, allowing it to expand when it absorbs water and contract when the soil is dry. Its skin is coated in a waxy layer that gives it a dull, gray-green color and helps prevent moisture loss. Instead of leaves, it has clusters of sharp spines that grow from small raised nodes called areoles. These spines serve as both defense and shade, casting thin shadows across the stem.
When conditions are right—usually after rare outskirts rains—it produces flowers that grow directly from the stem. The cactus' roots spread just beneath the surface, wide rather than deep, ready to catch any passing moisture. Its form is efficient, stripped down to what is necessary—nothing wasted, nothing soft.
Further thought processing has once again proven that the cactus on the table was completely ordinary, matching the entry in her database almost perfectly.
Searching automated logic A.I logs.
F(C)∈{Columnar,Globular,Paddle-shaped,Branching}
E(C)=Waxy(C)∧Chlorophyllous(C)
L(C)⊆AridRegions∧HighSolarExposure(L(C))
S(C)=PhotosyntheticStem(C)∧¬SignificantFoliage(C)
D(C)=∀x∈SurfaceArea(C),∃y∈Spines(C)∣Protective(y,x)
H(C)=Succulence(C)∧CrassulaceanAcidMetabolism(C)
∀t>0,G(C,t)⇒MinimalistExpansion(C,t)
∃B∈Blooms(C)∣Ephemeral(B)∧Vivid(B)∧Contrasts(B,S(C))
NotLeafy,NotMoist,NotFrail,NotFast⇒Enduring
Table(T)→IndoorSurface(T)∨OutdoorFurniture(T)
Cactus(C)∧SmallForm(C)→SuitableForDisplay(C)
RestsUpon(C,T)≡Normal
Outsourcing processing to automated facility systems bear the same conclusion, it was a perfectly normal cactus. Frustrating, though not unexpected.
She was unquestionably the most advanced A.I to have been created by the manager, if she had failed to determine the uniqueness of an object, it was highly unlikely for a less sophisticated mind such as automated systems to be capable of doing so.
Angela wasn't sure why she even bothered, the damned thing was useless, only serving to clog up her information logs. She hadn't made use of it in the last three thousand years, she doubted she'd use it for three thousand more.
Searching visual memory for green objects. Order by size.
Enkephalin.
Safety department.
Netzach.
K Corp serum.
Giovanni.
Strange. Searching visual memory for organic green objects.
Empty.
Ah, she had finally figured it out, it was her first time seeing a plant. For her to have exerted so much processing power on something so trivial, how embarrassing.
"Is something wrong?" Her creator's voice didn't make her jump, though her body may have stiffened ever so slightly.
She shook her head. "Nothing is wrong, manager. Why have you felt the need to ask such a question?"
"Well, it's just…you've been staring at that cactus for a while now, about forty seven minutes." The fact that she's had her perception of time slowed that entire period thankfully went unsaid.
"I was simply wondering how it found its way here." That was a lie, she kept an eye on the office at all times, even if she wasn't physically present.
Her creator...chuckled? She'll have to file that away for later thought. "An employee gave it to me when I was making my way down to Briah, the one we decided to settle on as the second employee for every cycle."
The one with the star implant. "I believe her name is BongBong."
Once again, that unfamiliar sound came from her creator. "Quite strange, that one. Can't deny her competence though."
Something felt very off. Her creator's been…different, lately. More relaxed, more talkative. The rare blaze that would occasionally shine through his eyes became more common, and she could now see a simmer of emotion ever present, even if distant.
The changes began when he descended into the extraction department that night, towards the one place in the facility she had been disallowed from observing or entering in any way or form.
It must've had something to do with the sephirot, there was no other logical conclusion—
'Tell me, who do you think Carmen was?'
—yet that didn't seem quite right. There was a missing piece somewhere, something she didn't know.
…She should probably be spending her time and thoughts on that, not cactuses.
"It said in the database that cactuses bloom under the right conditions." She should sate her curiosity so as to not let it get in the way of work, that's the justification Angela made for herself.
"Manager, do you think it would be possible for it to bloom here?"
Her creator tilted his head to stare at her for a moment, as if questioning the reason behind such a question. "Perhaps, nothing is impossible. Does the database not mention the specific conditions?"
" Usually after rare outskirts rains, it said."
He hummed. "Not very useful…"
She noticed his eyes soften as he turned to look at her. "I wouldn't know as I never studied biology. Perhaps you could figure it out?"
Angela immediately shook her head. "Such a venture is a waste of time."
"Good, there's nothing else more abundant. It could be your personal project"
A machine had no need for such a thing, she wanted to say. Yet she couldn't deny the interest that had bloomed in her mind. She had never seen a flower before, though she felt a tugging sensation in the back of her mind that it's something she'd enjoy seeing, even if she couldn't figure out why.
Though it varies greatly with each species, most plants thrive when given sufficient light and water.
That could work, the previous entry had mentioned blooming after rain.
Ayin watched with some amusement as Angela continued to stare a hole into the cactus. Carmen did always like vegetation, going so far as to painstakingly make a small garden in the outskirts, where the two of them would let the hours pass by.
He was sure. If a garden could grow in the outskirts, then a cactus can bloom in hell.
Notes: