"Hi, Sylia! You wanted to see me?"
Sylia nodded and stepped back, holding the door open. "Yes, I did. Come in, Nene."
When they were seated at Sylia's kitchen table, she was silent for a few moments as Nene watched her curiously. Finally, the redhead spoke.
"So... what is it? You seem awful serious about something."
Sylia nodded. "I needed to talk to you before I talked to the others. You could say I need your advice, Nene."
Nene's eyes widened a little, and an eyebrow attempted to climb into her hairline. "-MY- advice?" She laughed. "Wow, we -have- come a
long ways, haven't we?"
Sylia couldn't help but smile in response. "Yes, well, I'll try not to make a habit of it, you being a busy mother and all." She ignored
the indignant "Hey!" from Nene's side of the table and turned in her seat, lifting a heavy cardboard filing box -- the type with a lid used by
offices world-wide for storing documents and random junk -- with no apparent effort to the tabletop.
"In here are... well, I'm not sure what exactly to call them," Sylia admitted. "One of the new girls found them in an abandoned warehouse
while dealing with some Freakshow."
Nene looked at the box doubtfully, then back up at Sylia. "And?" she prompted.
"Nene, I brought these to your attention first because you and I, I think, have ... 'adapted', one could say, the best to what -- to who -- we are
now. I love Priss," and Sylia caught the swiftly-hidden startlement on Nene's face at the outright admission, "but all the same I can't be
sure she's ready for ... these. And Linna may never be."
Without another word, she removed the lid to the box and tipped it over, spilling old data modules, floppy disks, and photographs across the oak. Nene stared
at them for a moment, then her face went white.
"Oh my god," she whispered, reaching out with one trembling hand to pick up one of the floppies, a format not much in use these days. This example
had a logo worked into the plastic, one that Nene was intimately familiar with.
GENOM.
"How...?" she said, turning the disk over in her hands as if to assure herself it was real.
"There's more," Sylia replied. She flipped over one of the photos, revealing Nene coming out of a bakery with two large bags. Sylia could tell
that Nene recognized the shop; it had been the redhead's favorite, back in MegaTokyo.
"What IS all this, Sylia!?"
Sylia shook her head. "It's... it's who we were, in a way. When Crey raided our... the Knight Sabers home reality... they took as much as they
could of the project that was supposed to replicate... us." Sylia waved a hand at the pile. "This, I think, was ancillary material. What little
I've gone through so far seems to be mostly surveillance footage and notes about our habits, friends, lives outside of the Sabers. I think this is what
GENOM was planning to use to build our, our... our personality profiles." She took a deep breath. "And if I'm right, it means they knew who we
were back then in much more detail than I'd suspected. It means I failed, I failed all of you."
Nene scowled. "That's crap, Sylia, and you know it. Maybe they knew, maybe they didn't, but none of that matters -now-. Does it?"
"... I suppose not."
Nene nodded firmly. "Right! So what should we do with all this, then?" Nene looked thoughtful. "I could ask Ifrit to burn it, she always
enjoys that..."
"Nene!" Sylia was stunned. "Do you mean to tell me you'd rather pretend our past never happened?"
"Hey, I don't know about -you-, Sylia, but I'm just -fine- with everything the way it is now!" Nene glared across the table. "I have
my friends, I have a -family-, I don't have to hide who I am from the world, -and- I get to help people like we always said we were trying to do, without
being chased by the cops for it!" She shook her head and folded her arms across her chest, leaning back and looking away from Sylia. "God, Sylia!
I think maybe you -want- things to go back to what they were!"
"I... no." Sylia sighed. "I do -not- want that." She shuddered.
"Well... okay then." Nene leaned forward again, a look of morbid curiousity crossing her features. She began to sort through the photos.
"Hey! Here's one of Linna and that guy she dated for a couple weeks."
"Which one?"
"The dark-haired one, not the tall one but the average one. The mechanic."
"Oh, yes. He fixed her van, as I recall."
"Yeah, that's the one. I sort of liked him, he was nice."
"Here's another of you, Nene." Sylia held out a photo, which Nene took one look at and burst into giggles.
"Oh, wow! I'd forgotten about that!" She tapped at herself in the picture. "That was during my whole 'ooh, look at me, I'm a
rebel' phase. What do you think, Sylia? Was I better as a blonde?"
"You've always been you," Sylia replied. Nene rolled her eyes.
"Puh-leeeze." She brightened. "Hey, here's you!" She held up the photo and grinned. "Speaking of a 'rebel
phase'..."
"I won several prizes that year for that design, as I recall."
"You're just lucky it was a warm fall. There wasn't much TO that design."
They continued going through the pile in companionable silence for a time. Finally, Nene spoke up.
"You know..." she began slowly. "Ifrit and I were talking the other day about our pasts. She doesn't have much of one, and I ...
well..." She set her stack of photos down and leaned forward, cupping her chin in her palms, elbows resting on the table. "I don't remember all
of it, and most of what I do remember is the bad stuff, y'know?" She sighed. "These pictures... it's like they're reminding me of
something I'd forgotten."
"Technically, that could literally be true."
Nene rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Sylia. "Duh, I -know- that? I was trying to make a point." She sat back and watched Sylia stack
the last of the photos neatly, then begin putting the other remnants back in the box.
"My vote is, we keep the ones that we like, that remind us of something nice," Nene said firmly. "Then have Ifrit vaporize the rest."
"There might be something on those drives we could use--"
"Use -how-, Sylia? We're already ahead of where we used to be. We've blown our old tech curve out of the water. Crey is way ahead of where
GENOM was, most ways, and we've taken it farther still."
"... we could possibly go back," Sylia said quietly. "With data this comprehensive, this many artifacts to scan, it might be possible for
Portal Corps to locate MegaTokyo for us."
Nene reached across the table and took Sylia's hand. "Is that what you -want-, Sylia? Because if it is, you're an idiot... but I'll help you
all the same."
Sylia looked up, startled. Nene smiled.
"Hey, we're friends, right? I'll help you on your damn-fool idealistic crusade, even if I don't agree with it."
Sylia swallowed. "I... thank you, Nene." She squeezed the other woman's hand. "I don't want to go back... but... I feel that I may
have an obligation to."
"Not the Mission again?" Nene quipped.
"In a way, yes." Sylia sighed. "When it was impossible to go back, I could put it out of my mind. We have enough challenges here to
concentrate on, after all. But now... well, think of it. -We- could have used the help. If all four of us went back, just for one night, we could take care
of the GENOM threat once and for all."
"Is that what you -want-?"
"No!" Sylia exploded. "I -want- to stay here! I -want- to live -my- life, with Priss and you and Linna and all the other girls, and the
friends we've made here! I -want- to forget GENOM ever existed, that my father ever created -this-" and here she ran her hands down her sides,
mockingly "-- in the first place!"
"Then do it."
Sylia's head whipped around, to where Priss leaned against the doorframe.
"Do it," the singer repeated, pushing off the wall. She spun a chair around backwards and sat in it, meeting Sylia's eyes with her own.
"Forget all that shit ever went down, and just -live-."
"How long...?" Sylia whispered. Priss waved a hand.
"Eh, long enough." She picked up the topmost photo on the stack, which happened to be one of her next to Sylvie at a hamburger stand. She set it
down in front of Sylia and tapped the red-leather-clad figure meaningfully. "Who is that?"
"... it's you," Sylia said, slightly confused.
"Nah." Priss flicked her fingers dismissively. "That's Priscilla Asagiri, some wannabe rocker chick in MegaTokyo who can't admit who
she's really in love with and takes refuge in booze and bikes." She hooked a thumb at herself. "Me, I'm Priss -- just Priss -- and I'm
... pretty damn happy, actually." She shrugged. "See? Totally different people. I admit, she kinda looks like me, but I'm used to lookalikes.
Comes with the whole fame thing, you can't avoid it."
Sylia laughed even as tears came to her eyes.
"Look, if you -want- to go back -- to stomp GENOM, to help the Sabers there, to take Mason's skull and polish it for a trophy -- I'll be right
there with you. You know I love a good scrap." Priss scratched her head. "But if you feel like you -need- to go back... don't."
"You don't owe the Sabers there anything," Nene said softly. "And when you get right down to it, you don't even have a father -- none
of us do -- so you don't owe him anything either."
"You've helped the rest of us come to grips with what we are," Priss said. "I think you forgot someone, though." Priss stood and drew
Sylia to her feet, leading her to the small decorative mirror on the wall. She caught Sylia's chin in her strong hands and forced her to look into the
silver depths.
"Are you the same Sylia that was in those pictures?"
Sylia remained silent for a long moment. Then she slumped, closing her eyes. "No," she finally whispered.
"Damn straight," Priss replied. Nene coughed and spluttered behind them. Without turning around, Priss added, "You know what I -meant-,
Nene."
"Yeah, yeah."
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
Sylia nodded and stepped back, holding the door open. "Yes, I did. Come in, Nene."
When they were seated at Sylia's kitchen table, she was silent for a few moments as Nene watched her curiously. Finally, the redhead spoke.
"So... what is it? You seem awful serious about something."
Sylia nodded. "I needed to talk to you before I talked to the others. You could say I need your advice, Nene."
Nene's eyes widened a little, and an eyebrow attempted to climb into her hairline. "-MY- advice?" She laughed. "Wow, we -have- come a
long ways, haven't we?"
Sylia couldn't help but smile in response. "Yes, well, I'll try not to make a habit of it, you being a busy mother and all." She ignored
the indignant "Hey!" from Nene's side of the table and turned in her seat, lifting a heavy cardboard filing box -- the type with a lid used by
offices world-wide for storing documents and random junk -- with no apparent effort to the tabletop.
"In here are... well, I'm not sure what exactly to call them," Sylia admitted. "One of the new girls found them in an abandoned warehouse
while dealing with some Freakshow."
Nene looked at the box doubtfully, then back up at Sylia. "And?" she prompted.
"Nene, I brought these to your attention first because you and I, I think, have ... 'adapted', one could say, the best to what -- to who -- we are
now. I love Priss," and Sylia caught the swiftly-hidden startlement on Nene's face at the outright admission, "but all the same I can't be
sure she's ready for ... these. And Linna may never be."
Without another word, she removed the lid to the box and tipped it over, spilling old data modules, floppy disks, and photographs across the oak. Nene stared
at them for a moment, then her face went white.
"Oh my god," she whispered, reaching out with one trembling hand to pick up one of the floppies, a format not much in use these days. This example
had a logo worked into the plastic, one that Nene was intimately familiar with.
GENOM.
"How...?" she said, turning the disk over in her hands as if to assure herself it was real.
"There's more," Sylia replied. She flipped over one of the photos, revealing Nene coming out of a bakery with two large bags. Sylia could tell
that Nene recognized the shop; it had been the redhead's favorite, back in MegaTokyo.
"What IS all this, Sylia!?"
Sylia shook her head. "It's... it's who we were, in a way. When Crey raided our... the Knight Sabers home reality... they took as much as they
could of the project that was supposed to replicate... us." Sylia waved a hand at the pile. "This, I think, was ancillary material. What little
I've gone through so far seems to be mostly surveillance footage and notes about our habits, friends, lives outside of the Sabers. I think this is what
GENOM was planning to use to build our, our... our personality profiles." She took a deep breath. "And if I'm right, it means they knew who we
were back then in much more detail than I'd suspected. It means I failed, I failed all of you."
Nene scowled. "That's crap, Sylia, and you know it. Maybe they knew, maybe they didn't, but none of that matters -now-. Does it?"
"... I suppose not."
Nene nodded firmly. "Right! So what should we do with all this, then?" Nene looked thoughtful. "I could ask Ifrit to burn it, she always
enjoys that..."
"Nene!" Sylia was stunned. "Do you mean to tell me you'd rather pretend our past never happened?"
"Hey, I don't know about -you-, Sylia, but I'm just -fine- with everything the way it is now!" Nene glared across the table. "I have
my friends, I have a -family-, I don't have to hide who I am from the world, -and- I get to help people like we always said we were trying to do, without
being chased by the cops for it!" She shook her head and folded her arms across her chest, leaning back and looking away from Sylia. "God, Sylia!
I think maybe you -want- things to go back to what they were!"
"I... no." Sylia sighed. "I do -not- want that." She shuddered.
"Well... okay then." Nene leaned forward again, a look of morbid curiousity crossing her features. She began to sort through the photos.
"Hey! Here's one of Linna and that guy she dated for a couple weeks."
"Which one?"
"The dark-haired one, not the tall one but the average one. The mechanic."
"Oh, yes. He fixed her van, as I recall."
"Yeah, that's the one. I sort of liked him, he was nice."
"Here's another of you, Nene." Sylia held out a photo, which Nene took one look at and burst into giggles.
"Oh, wow! I'd forgotten about that!" She tapped at herself in the picture. "That was during my whole 'ooh, look at me, I'm a
rebel' phase. What do you think, Sylia? Was I better as a blonde?"
"You've always been you," Sylia replied. Nene rolled her eyes.
"Puh-leeeze." She brightened. "Hey, here's you!" She held up the photo and grinned. "Speaking of a 'rebel
phase'..."
"I won several prizes that year for that design, as I recall."
"You're just lucky it was a warm fall. There wasn't much TO that design."
They continued going through the pile in companionable silence for a time. Finally, Nene spoke up.
"You know..." she began slowly. "Ifrit and I were talking the other day about our pasts. She doesn't have much of one, and I ...
well..." She set her stack of photos down and leaned forward, cupping her chin in her palms, elbows resting on the table. "I don't remember all
of it, and most of what I do remember is the bad stuff, y'know?" She sighed. "These pictures... it's like they're reminding me of
something I'd forgotten."
"Technically, that could literally be true."
Nene rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Sylia. "Duh, I -know- that? I was trying to make a point." She sat back and watched Sylia stack
the last of the photos neatly, then begin putting the other remnants back in the box.
"My vote is, we keep the ones that we like, that remind us of something nice," Nene said firmly. "Then have Ifrit vaporize the rest."
"There might be something on those drives we could use--"
"Use -how-, Sylia? We're already ahead of where we used to be. We've blown our old tech curve out of the water. Crey is way ahead of where
GENOM was, most ways, and we've taken it farther still."
"... we could possibly go back," Sylia said quietly. "With data this comprehensive, this many artifacts to scan, it might be possible for
Portal Corps to locate MegaTokyo for us."
Nene reached across the table and took Sylia's hand. "Is that what you -want-, Sylia? Because if it is, you're an idiot... but I'll help you
all the same."
Sylia looked up, startled. Nene smiled.
"Hey, we're friends, right? I'll help you on your damn-fool idealistic crusade, even if I don't agree with it."
Sylia swallowed. "I... thank you, Nene." She squeezed the other woman's hand. "I don't want to go back... but... I feel that I may
have an obligation to."
"Not the Mission again?" Nene quipped.
"In a way, yes." Sylia sighed. "When it was impossible to go back, I could put it out of my mind. We have enough challenges here to
concentrate on, after all. But now... well, think of it. -We- could have used the help. If all four of us went back, just for one night, we could take care
of the GENOM threat once and for all."
"Is that what you -want-?"
"No!" Sylia exploded. "I -want- to stay here! I -want- to live -my- life, with Priss and you and Linna and all the other girls, and the
friends we've made here! I -want- to forget GENOM ever existed, that my father ever created -this-" and here she ran her hands down her sides,
mockingly "-- in the first place!"
"Then do it."
Sylia's head whipped around, to where Priss leaned against the doorframe.
"Do it," the singer repeated, pushing off the wall. She spun a chair around backwards and sat in it, meeting Sylia's eyes with her own.
"Forget all that shit ever went down, and just -live-."
"How long...?" Sylia whispered. Priss waved a hand.
"Eh, long enough." She picked up the topmost photo on the stack, which happened to be one of her next to Sylvie at a hamburger stand. She set it
down in front of Sylia and tapped the red-leather-clad figure meaningfully. "Who is that?"
"... it's you," Sylia said, slightly confused.
"Nah." Priss flicked her fingers dismissively. "That's Priscilla Asagiri, some wannabe rocker chick in MegaTokyo who can't admit who
she's really in love with and takes refuge in booze and bikes." She hooked a thumb at herself. "Me, I'm Priss -- just Priss -- and I'm
... pretty damn happy, actually." She shrugged. "See? Totally different people. I admit, she kinda looks like me, but I'm used to lookalikes.
Comes with the whole fame thing, you can't avoid it."
Sylia laughed even as tears came to her eyes.
"Look, if you -want- to go back -- to stomp GENOM, to help the Sabers there, to take Mason's skull and polish it for a trophy -- I'll be right
there with you. You know I love a good scrap." Priss scratched her head. "But if you feel like you -need- to go back... don't."
"You don't owe the Sabers there anything," Nene said softly. "And when you get right down to it, you don't even have a father -- none
of us do -- so you don't owe him anything either."
"You've helped the rest of us come to grips with what we are," Priss said. "I think you forgot someone, though." Priss stood and drew
Sylia to her feet, leading her to the small decorative mirror on the wall. She caught Sylia's chin in her strong hands and forced her to look into the
silver depths.
"Are you the same Sylia that was in those pictures?"
Sylia remained silent for a long moment. Then she slumped, closing her eyes. "No," she finally whispered.
"Damn straight," Priss replied. Nene coughed and spluttered behind them. Without turning around, Priss added, "You know what I -meant-,
Nene."
"Yeah, yeah."
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs