So... it's been a while. I've suffered from a couple of bouts of writer's block as well as a kind of series of conflicting ideas. I know exactly where this story is going, and I think that's my problem. I have the ending all planned out and in my mind and in a rather gibberishy text file. Anyway, that's off topic, but I am trying to get here is, as this first snippet of chapter came about, I slowly found myself writing a few things I didn't really expect, specifically regarding Rei in regards to Arthur. (Yeah... that freaked me out, a little, actually. But I'm gonna run with it.)
I have to say, I am not at all sure what I think of this chapter so far, except for the fact that I have that sinking feeling that I might have missed the mark. Regardless, this is just the first part, because, by the end of the next chapter, Chapter Four, I plan to have Shinji and Ford embark on Ford's little planned trip.
I'd like to add to my own wall of text preface that I am happy I finally got to the first of a few changes I wanted to make to all the characters, most notably for starters, Rei. The wardrobe change might strike you as a little random and WTF but... You know... I have a purpose behind it, someplace. I'll explain it later. (I'll also quickly note I think I actually might have successfully pulled off some foreshadowing here in this snippet, maybe.)
So... to cut my rambles aside, here is the First Part of the Third Chapter of The Angel of Doubt. Enjoy!
****************
The Angel of Doubt
****************
Chapter Three
****************
In a stark contrast to Heathrow, Tokyo-3 International Airport remained constantly busier than most would have though possible in the years following Second Impact, thanks mostly to the comings and goings of the organization known as NERV. It was also a great deal smaller than Heathrow, as well as one of the only semi-civilian airports left in existence following the last series of wars to be heavily guarded with Anti-Aircraft defenses. All and all a warming and welcoming place, the main concourse of the airport was adorned with plants and couches and attractive women to greet weary travelers and helpful multi-lingual signs to the airport bar that simply read ôThe booze flows from here.ö in seven different languages, followed by a helpful arrow. All in all, Arthur Dent figured this was probably the most warm and welcoming airport he had ever been in. The train of thought, however, led to a conclusion Arthur would have rather not reached. As he walked rather lazily through the airport concourse, Arthur keep feeling a nagging little itch in the back of his mind that told him something was amiss about this situation. The further he got from his departure terminal, the greater the itch became. Finally, it hit him like a proverbial ton of bricks.
ôBUGGER ME!ö shouted Arthur at the top of his lungs, slapping his forehead in frustration. ôI have no idea where to find Ford!ö
Yes, despite being a relative veteran of intergalactic hitchhiking, with nothing to go on but the obviously manufactured alias of ôF.P. Kajiö on the envelopes he was sent, Arthur had no clue how to find Ford. Even if ôF.P. Kajiö wasn't an alias and was indeed an actual person, the previously forgotten specter of the language barrier came flooding back to the forefront of Arthur's mind. This was, alas, yet another rash decision in a long string of rash decisions that usually sprung up around Arthur's good friend Ford. With hope draining from his heart as he resigned himself to the impasse he had arrived at, Arthur sighed and slinked away towards one of the many couches that dotted the concourse like small, comfortable islands in a sea of confusion. He also failed to notice he had a companion on the proverbial island he had marooned himself on. Next to him sat a teenage girl with light blue hair, wearing what he assumed as a school uniform, (as it fit in with all the whispers he had heard about what got the men of this country excited) furiously writing in a notebook. She didn't seem to take notice of Arthur's presence, but Arthur took note of the one feature of hers that struck him as odd, her blood red eyes. While certainly an unusual color on Earth, Arthur had seen many strange eye pigments in his travels, most curious to him being a group of humanoids he had encountered with stark white eyes that claimed to be able to see three hundred and sixty degrees with them. (Though for all their talk, the only creatures with three hundred and sixty degree vision that Arthur knew of lived in a cave on a planet locked almost entirely in perpetual nighttime.) The possibility that this teenager next to him was not from Earth danced around inside Arthur's head, but he didn't think he could ask without looking insane. The girl would probably call the police if he tried to ask her something along the lines of ôHey there, I couldn't help but notice your eyes are red. Are you an alien or did you just hit your head on the deep end of the gene pool?ö However, Arthur wouldn't have to worry about breaking the ice this time.
ôI would like to thank you, sir.ö said the blue haired girl in a quiet monotone.
ôPardon?ö asked Arthur, not noticing his babel fish had translated the girl's native tongue. ôWhy are you thanking me?ö
ôIs it not customary to offer thanks to someone when they have rendered you a service?ö
ôWait... you speak English?ö Arthur asked, his human genealogy causing him to state the obvious.
ôI am fluent in five languages.ö replied the girl, her tone changing ever so slightly, as if to convey annoyance. ôCorrect me if I am wrong, but is it not considered impolite to answer a person's question with one of your own, completely dodging the original question?ö
Arthur furrowed his brow. ôYes, to both your questions, actually. But... still, what have I done for you?ö
ôYou have given me inspiration, and for that I thank you. It is not often my subjects come close. I generally only see them from a far.ö
Arthur again noticed her notebook. ôSo... you drew a sketch of me?ö
ôNo, I have been writing poetry. As of late, I cannot resist the urge to do so.ö
ôP..p..poetry, eh?ö asked Arthur as a shiver went down his spine, recalling briefly past experiences.
ôWould you like to hear some?ö
ôNo! No... that's okay, I'll pass. I'm terribly jet lagged and I can never listen to poetry while I'm jet lagged. No appreciation for the arts with a headache, you know?ö
ôHmm...ö was all Rei said, apparently deep in thought. ôI need a title. What is your name?
ôMy name is Arthur Dent. How about you?ö
ôI am called Rei Ayanami.ö Rei scribbled something in her notebook. ôThere, Arthur and the Airport. That is what it shall be called.ö
ôRather fitting title, isn't it?ö
ôIndeed.ö Rei paused and looked at Arthur. ôIs it possible that you will sign the back of the poem, so others will know that this poem is about Arthur Dent?ö
ôOf course!ö Arthur said with a smile. He took the offered paper and pen and scribbled ôArthur Philip Dentö in a script that some doctors would have a problem reading. ôThere you are, Arthur Philip Dent. Now you have my John Hancock, as the yanks would say.ö
ôI do not understand, who is John Hancock?ö
ôEr... um... He's just this guy, you know?ö stuttered Arthur, moving to hand Rei her pen back. It was at this point that the fabric of the Universe decided to have a little bit of a hiccup, causing Rei's black ink pen to shatter in her lap, covering her school uniform in splotches that would have confused Hermann Rorshach himself. ôOh, damn it all!ö
Rei looked impassively from her ruined uniform to the ink dripping off Arthur's hand and back again. Red eyes met brown as Rei, unsurprisingly, was at a loss for words.
Quickly trying to alleviate his guilt, Arthur looked at the notebook still in his lap. ôWell... at least the poetry is safe. Right?ö
ôInk does not wash out easily, does it?ö
Arthur shook his head. ôNot so much, no...ö
ôI see...ö
The proverbial lightbulb went off as Arthur noticed his rather convenient proximity to the Duty Free shop. ôListen, wait right here... I'm going to go wash up and to make it up to you I'm going to buy you something new to wear home, at least.ö he cracked a small smile. ôCan't get the boys to listen to your poetry if you look like you just fought a copy machine!ö Arthur wasn't exactly sure that Rei was the kind of person who wanted to attract boys, but the adrenaline his brain was pumping into his body told him that this avenue of flattery would perhaps stop Rei from getting him thrown into a foreign jail cell less than ten minutes after arriving in the country.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has this to say about Adrenaline. Epinephrine, more commonly known as adrenaline, is a hormone found in the nervous systems of various humanoid species, most notably Homo sapiens, that controls a fight or flight reaction. Adrenaline is usually released in response to moments of stress or surprise to the being in question, to prepare the body for an emergency situation by suppressing the immune system and reportedly, blocking some pain receptors. It should be noted that a chemical with a similar effect is secreted during arousal and consequent sexual gratification. This being said, most species that have adrenaline have a sub-set of it's population that has been dubbed ôadrenaline junkiesö by some, who go about putting themselves in dangerous situations for the orgasm like high they feel. Most sane individuals would find this utterly crazy because it's much safer and cheaper to just have a romp in the sack. It should also be noted that adrenaline has an effect on the mind, and can often lead to extreme knee jerk reactions to situations that almost never required the kind of immediate response they received, for this response is usually the exact opposite of what should have been done.
Rei just looked on impassively as she silently waited for Arthur to return. Normally she would just go home as is and not worry, but she had been told to wait, and she was not about to disobey an order, even if it was from a strange man who somehow made her stomach feel slightly warmer deep down in the pit, much to her confusion. A thought crossed her mind and a new idea was birthed in the annuls of Rei Ayanami's mind, a new poem that she at the moment could not jot down, thanks to her wearing her weapon of choice. Idle thoughts and silhouettes of ideas danced inside Rei's mind like any sort of wispy, wistful imagery, probably clouds or something of the like. One of these small wisps begged the question why the strange foreigner Arthur Dent had suddenly become what she had her referred to as a ômuseö, seemingly invading her creative conscious and putting down roots in the back of her mind, as if he fully intended to stay awhile, perhaps long after dinner had passed. Rei resolved that she would seek out help in deciphering just what this all meant. Her wispy, cloud-like thoughts were pushed aside however, as Arthur came jogging back carrying a large bag.
ôOh good! You're still here.ö panted Arthur, desperately trying to catch his breath. He placed the bag on next to Rei on the airport couch. ôRight... well, I kind of just guessed sizes as best as I could... There is a shirt, undershirt short pants, belt and a uh, free pair of sunglasses thrown in there by the store clerk. Seems I caught a package deal of sorts.ö Arthur rubbed the back of his head. ôI had a teenage daughter once, you see... Never really got the chance to...ö He found himself talking to thin air as he saw the retreating form of Rei heading to the Women's Restrooms, presumably to change, and not call the authorities, something Arthur silently dreaded.
As he anxiously waited for Rei to return, Arthur's thoughts drifted to his daughter Random, who was almost the polar opposite of what Rei appeared to be. While Random was brash, rebellious and all in all disillusioned with life and the universe, Rei seemed to be quiet, stoic and more obedient than a trained poodle, as evidenced by her lack of running off, staying put when told. Arthur harbored few regrets, he figured, about his life, but the fact that he felt he somehow could have done better for Random, despite not even knowing she existed, stuck with him. Putting these thoughts side, out of the corner of his eye he saw the returning form of Rei Ayanami, and he could not hold back his awkward cough. The blue haired teen approached him, wearing a bright two-tone blue and purple Hawaiian shirt with a white undershirt and tan cargo shorts, and a simple leather belt holding said pants up. Still wearing her standard issue school socks and shoes, she cut a rather odd figure, topped off by the free pair of blue tinted, thin rimmed sunglasses that gave her eyes a purple color.
ôEr, hello, Rei. How does everything fit?ö
ôIt is adequate.ö replied Rei, as she set the bag containing her soiled clothes down on the couch. ôThough this gesture was entirely unnecessary.ö
Arthur blinked at her reply and looked her over again. ôI don't think so. I ruined your clothes, I got you some replacements. Granted, this isn't as swanky and posh as it could be, but they were bought at a Duty Free store, mind you.ö He cleared his throat. ôBesides, it's a huge improvement. It gives you a look more fitting of a person with the uh.... Soul of a poet, so to speak.ö
If anyone else who had known Rei for longer than half a day where present, they'd surely believe the world had stopped. Rei was blushing ever so slightly, which highlighted her pale skin. ôThank you, Mr. Dent...ö Her blush faded and the conversation fell dead in the air like a trapeze artist that had suffered a sudden and fatal heart attack.
ôWell... I suppose I should be going, Rei.ö said Arthur, breaking the silence. ôI have to track down Ford, or F.P. Kaji or whatever the bloody hell he is calling himself these days...ö
ôI know a Kaji.ö
ôPardon?ö
ôI happen to know a Kaji, perhaps he can provide information on the one you are looking for.ö
Arthur, ever the Englishman, objected as quick as he could. ôNo, I couldn't possibly impose.ö
ôI have nothing scheduled. You will not inconvenience me.ö
Purple tinted eyes met Brown and Arthur smiled. ôIf you are certain, then I thank you. Lead the way.ö
And so the odd couple of the six-foot plus tall, towering foriegner and the slender, oddly dressed, blue haired teen departed Tokyo-3 International Airport with nothing but his luggage, her poetry, and the promise of possibly helping Arthur Dent finally meet up with his estranged friend Ford Prefect and perhaps, finally learn just what was up with the test results in the envelope he had received.
I have to say, I am not at all sure what I think of this chapter so far, except for the fact that I have that sinking feeling that I might have missed the mark. Regardless, this is just the first part, because, by the end of the next chapter, Chapter Four, I plan to have Shinji and Ford embark on Ford's little planned trip.
I'd like to add to my own wall of text preface that I am happy I finally got to the first of a few changes I wanted to make to all the characters, most notably for starters, Rei. The wardrobe change might strike you as a little random and WTF but... You know... I have a purpose behind it, someplace. I'll explain it later. (I'll also quickly note I think I actually might have successfully pulled off some foreshadowing here in this snippet, maybe.)
So... to cut my rambles aside, here is the First Part of the Third Chapter of The Angel of Doubt. Enjoy!
****************
The Angel of Doubt
****************
Chapter Three
****************
In a stark contrast to Heathrow, Tokyo-3 International Airport remained constantly busier than most would have though possible in the years following Second Impact, thanks mostly to the comings and goings of the organization known as NERV. It was also a great deal smaller than Heathrow, as well as one of the only semi-civilian airports left in existence following the last series of wars to be heavily guarded with Anti-Aircraft defenses. All and all a warming and welcoming place, the main concourse of the airport was adorned with plants and couches and attractive women to greet weary travelers and helpful multi-lingual signs to the airport bar that simply read ôThe booze flows from here.ö in seven different languages, followed by a helpful arrow. All in all, Arthur Dent figured this was probably the most warm and welcoming airport he had ever been in. The train of thought, however, led to a conclusion Arthur would have rather not reached. As he walked rather lazily through the airport concourse, Arthur keep feeling a nagging little itch in the back of his mind that told him something was amiss about this situation. The further he got from his departure terminal, the greater the itch became. Finally, it hit him like a proverbial ton of bricks.
ôBUGGER ME!ö shouted Arthur at the top of his lungs, slapping his forehead in frustration. ôI have no idea where to find Ford!ö
Yes, despite being a relative veteran of intergalactic hitchhiking, with nothing to go on but the obviously manufactured alias of ôF.P. Kajiö on the envelopes he was sent, Arthur had no clue how to find Ford. Even if ôF.P. Kajiö wasn't an alias and was indeed an actual person, the previously forgotten specter of the language barrier came flooding back to the forefront of Arthur's mind. This was, alas, yet another rash decision in a long string of rash decisions that usually sprung up around Arthur's good friend Ford. With hope draining from his heart as he resigned himself to the impasse he had arrived at, Arthur sighed and slinked away towards one of the many couches that dotted the concourse like small, comfortable islands in a sea of confusion. He also failed to notice he had a companion on the proverbial island he had marooned himself on. Next to him sat a teenage girl with light blue hair, wearing what he assumed as a school uniform, (as it fit in with all the whispers he had heard about what got the men of this country excited) furiously writing in a notebook. She didn't seem to take notice of Arthur's presence, but Arthur took note of the one feature of hers that struck him as odd, her blood red eyes. While certainly an unusual color on Earth, Arthur had seen many strange eye pigments in his travels, most curious to him being a group of humanoids he had encountered with stark white eyes that claimed to be able to see three hundred and sixty degrees with them. (Though for all their talk, the only creatures with three hundred and sixty degree vision that Arthur knew of lived in a cave on a planet locked almost entirely in perpetual nighttime.) The possibility that this teenager next to him was not from Earth danced around inside Arthur's head, but he didn't think he could ask without looking insane. The girl would probably call the police if he tried to ask her something along the lines of ôHey there, I couldn't help but notice your eyes are red. Are you an alien or did you just hit your head on the deep end of the gene pool?ö However, Arthur wouldn't have to worry about breaking the ice this time.
ôI would like to thank you, sir.ö said the blue haired girl in a quiet monotone.
ôPardon?ö asked Arthur, not noticing his babel fish had translated the girl's native tongue. ôWhy are you thanking me?ö
ôIs it not customary to offer thanks to someone when they have rendered you a service?ö
ôWait... you speak English?ö Arthur asked, his human genealogy causing him to state the obvious.
ôI am fluent in five languages.ö replied the girl, her tone changing ever so slightly, as if to convey annoyance. ôCorrect me if I am wrong, but is it not considered impolite to answer a person's question with one of your own, completely dodging the original question?ö
Arthur furrowed his brow. ôYes, to both your questions, actually. But... still, what have I done for you?ö
ôYou have given me inspiration, and for that I thank you. It is not often my subjects come close. I generally only see them from a far.ö
Arthur again noticed her notebook. ôSo... you drew a sketch of me?ö
ôNo, I have been writing poetry. As of late, I cannot resist the urge to do so.ö
ôP..p..poetry, eh?ö asked Arthur as a shiver went down his spine, recalling briefly past experiences.
ôWould you like to hear some?ö
ôNo! No... that's okay, I'll pass. I'm terribly jet lagged and I can never listen to poetry while I'm jet lagged. No appreciation for the arts with a headache, you know?ö
ôHmm...ö was all Rei said, apparently deep in thought. ôI need a title. What is your name?
ôMy name is Arthur Dent. How about you?ö
ôI am called Rei Ayanami.ö Rei scribbled something in her notebook. ôThere, Arthur and the Airport. That is what it shall be called.ö
ôRather fitting title, isn't it?ö
ôIndeed.ö Rei paused and looked at Arthur. ôIs it possible that you will sign the back of the poem, so others will know that this poem is about Arthur Dent?ö
ôOf course!ö Arthur said with a smile. He took the offered paper and pen and scribbled ôArthur Philip Dentö in a script that some doctors would have a problem reading. ôThere you are, Arthur Philip Dent. Now you have my John Hancock, as the yanks would say.ö
ôI do not understand, who is John Hancock?ö
ôEr... um... He's just this guy, you know?ö stuttered Arthur, moving to hand Rei her pen back. It was at this point that the fabric of the Universe decided to have a little bit of a hiccup, causing Rei's black ink pen to shatter in her lap, covering her school uniform in splotches that would have confused Hermann Rorshach himself. ôOh, damn it all!ö
Rei looked impassively from her ruined uniform to the ink dripping off Arthur's hand and back again. Red eyes met brown as Rei, unsurprisingly, was at a loss for words.
Quickly trying to alleviate his guilt, Arthur looked at the notebook still in his lap. ôWell... at least the poetry is safe. Right?ö
ôInk does not wash out easily, does it?ö
Arthur shook his head. ôNot so much, no...ö
ôI see...ö
The proverbial lightbulb went off as Arthur noticed his rather convenient proximity to the Duty Free shop. ôListen, wait right here... I'm going to go wash up and to make it up to you I'm going to buy you something new to wear home, at least.ö he cracked a small smile. ôCan't get the boys to listen to your poetry if you look like you just fought a copy machine!ö Arthur wasn't exactly sure that Rei was the kind of person who wanted to attract boys, but the adrenaline his brain was pumping into his body told him that this avenue of flattery would perhaps stop Rei from getting him thrown into a foreign jail cell less than ten minutes after arriving in the country.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has this to say about Adrenaline. Epinephrine, more commonly known as adrenaline, is a hormone found in the nervous systems of various humanoid species, most notably Homo sapiens, that controls a fight or flight reaction. Adrenaline is usually released in response to moments of stress or surprise to the being in question, to prepare the body for an emergency situation by suppressing the immune system and reportedly, blocking some pain receptors. It should be noted that a chemical with a similar effect is secreted during arousal and consequent sexual gratification. This being said, most species that have adrenaline have a sub-set of it's population that has been dubbed ôadrenaline junkiesö by some, who go about putting themselves in dangerous situations for the orgasm like high they feel. Most sane individuals would find this utterly crazy because it's much safer and cheaper to just have a romp in the sack. It should also be noted that adrenaline has an effect on the mind, and can often lead to extreme knee jerk reactions to situations that almost never required the kind of immediate response they received, for this response is usually the exact opposite of what should have been done.
Rei just looked on impassively as she silently waited for Arthur to return. Normally she would just go home as is and not worry, but she had been told to wait, and she was not about to disobey an order, even if it was from a strange man who somehow made her stomach feel slightly warmer deep down in the pit, much to her confusion. A thought crossed her mind and a new idea was birthed in the annuls of Rei Ayanami's mind, a new poem that she at the moment could not jot down, thanks to her wearing her weapon of choice. Idle thoughts and silhouettes of ideas danced inside Rei's mind like any sort of wispy, wistful imagery, probably clouds or something of the like. One of these small wisps begged the question why the strange foreigner Arthur Dent had suddenly become what she had her referred to as a ômuseö, seemingly invading her creative conscious and putting down roots in the back of her mind, as if he fully intended to stay awhile, perhaps long after dinner had passed. Rei resolved that she would seek out help in deciphering just what this all meant. Her wispy, cloud-like thoughts were pushed aside however, as Arthur came jogging back carrying a large bag.
ôOh good! You're still here.ö panted Arthur, desperately trying to catch his breath. He placed the bag on next to Rei on the airport couch. ôRight... well, I kind of just guessed sizes as best as I could... There is a shirt, undershirt short pants, belt and a uh, free pair of sunglasses thrown in there by the store clerk. Seems I caught a package deal of sorts.ö Arthur rubbed the back of his head. ôI had a teenage daughter once, you see... Never really got the chance to...ö He found himself talking to thin air as he saw the retreating form of Rei heading to the Women's Restrooms, presumably to change, and not call the authorities, something Arthur silently dreaded.
As he anxiously waited for Rei to return, Arthur's thoughts drifted to his daughter Random, who was almost the polar opposite of what Rei appeared to be. While Random was brash, rebellious and all in all disillusioned with life and the universe, Rei seemed to be quiet, stoic and more obedient than a trained poodle, as evidenced by her lack of running off, staying put when told. Arthur harbored few regrets, he figured, about his life, but the fact that he felt he somehow could have done better for Random, despite not even knowing she existed, stuck with him. Putting these thoughts side, out of the corner of his eye he saw the returning form of Rei Ayanami, and he could not hold back his awkward cough. The blue haired teen approached him, wearing a bright two-tone blue and purple Hawaiian shirt with a white undershirt and tan cargo shorts, and a simple leather belt holding said pants up. Still wearing her standard issue school socks and shoes, she cut a rather odd figure, topped off by the free pair of blue tinted, thin rimmed sunglasses that gave her eyes a purple color.
ôEr, hello, Rei. How does everything fit?ö
ôIt is adequate.ö replied Rei, as she set the bag containing her soiled clothes down on the couch. ôThough this gesture was entirely unnecessary.ö
Arthur blinked at her reply and looked her over again. ôI don't think so. I ruined your clothes, I got you some replacements. Granted, this isn't as swanky and posh as it could be, but they were bought at a Duty Free store, mind you.ö He cleared his throat. ôBesides, it's a huge improvement. It gives you a look more fitting of a person with the uh.... Soul of a poet, so to speak.ö
If anyone else who had known Rei for longer than half a day where present, they'd surely believe the world had stopped. Rei was blushing ever so slightly, which highlighted her pale skin. ôThank you, Mr. Dent...ö Her blush faded and the conversation fell dead in the air like a trapeze artist that had suffered a sudden and fatal heart attack.
ôWell... I suppose I should be going, Rei.ö said Arthur, breaking the silence. ôI have to track down Ford, or F.P. Kaji or whatever the bloody hell he is calling himself these days...ö
ôI know a Kaji.ö
ôPardon?ö
ôI happen to know a Kaji, perhaps he can provide information on the one you are looking for.ö
Arthur, ever the Englishman, objected as quick as he could. ôNo, I couldn't possibly impose.ö
ôI have nothing scheduled. You will not inconvenience me.ö
Purple tinted eyes met Brown and Arthur smiled. ôIf you are certain, then I thank you. Lead the way.ö
And so the odd couple of the six-foot plus tall, towering foriegner and the slender, oddly dressed, blue haired teen departed Tokyo-3 International Airport with nothing but his luggage, her poetry, and the promise of possibly helping Arthur Dent finally meet up with his estranged friend Ford Prefect and perhaps, finally learn just what was up with the test results in the envelope he had received.