[[ Clear ]]
My name is Clear. As my memory serves, I have been alive for approximately ██ years, but my recounting of such time is limited due to my memory space. I can remember the First Rapture Invasion in bits and pieces; there were NIKKEs stronger than me out there, and the purpose I served was probably much lesser than their role. I can’t remember, of course. If I understand correctly, I am an incredibly old model of NIKKE; my space for memories is limited, my presenting gender is discontinued, and I face cognitive dissonance for a certain reason. It has been some time since I have fought raptures due to the latter detail listed. I presently belong to the squad known as Purem, having been invited there as a rehabilitation project to get my body walking again. In truth, I was pretty sure the commander was going to give up on me once New Years came and went. I braced for rejection. After all, what good is a NIKKE who can’t walk? To him, I was maybe an antique piece, broken and unusable, with how rehab was going. So, I braced myself for an uncertain future.
I wouldn’t have predicted what wound up happening.
The Commander… lost his mind.
Well, it wasn’t so much that he went insane -- it was more that he became another person entirely. I wouldn’t come to understand this until only a little while prior to making this internal report. He began acting strangely on New Year’s Day at approximately 1800. It was then he cited having a dream… But as it turned out, that dream was presumably this new individual’s previous life.
I wonder what kind of anomalies have to be present for someone to become another person entirely.
I digress.
At present, I am sitting in a meeting room with a number of important-looking officials representing the interests of the Ark. We’re seated around a console-infused table, displaying a number of confidential documents on the holographic screen that I’m neglecting to read upon command. I’m remaining quiet, but it’s clear my presence is somewhat unplanned. I’m getting occasional glances, but I keep my back straight and eyes down as the humans speak to one another about business at hand.
Beside me, Commander Nine is sweating bullets to the point of completely soaking his uniform.
I have no way of comforting him. He’s on his own here. I can only provide a failsafe if he truly needs to eject from the meeting. That said, I can’t help but wonder what kind of person Nine is to make him so underprepared for a simple meeting. These men are not raptures; what will become of Commander Nine when he is sent to the surface for a mission? Will he even be able to command his squad, or will he wind up cowering behind rubble? I’d like to imagine his spirit is stronger than that, but this interaction is truly straining my hopes.
“... With that being said, Purem’s present inactivity cannot be sustained. It’s about time you headed up to the surface, Commander.”
I can just feel the man tensing up beside me.
“... Th-the surface. Right,” he manages, and I find myself silently praying he doesn’t fumble a simple reply. “... I’ll need to take on some missions. Wh-whatever you find suitable.”
Something twists on his face, and it seems he knows something I don’t.
“... Actually,” he corrects, “I’d like to preview the briefings for the missions you might have in mind before accepting them…”
… Preview them? The old Commander simply took them without question. Based on what the rest of the squad complained about, he always wound up cowering behind some rubble rather than commanding them… When I think of that, I somehow feel anybody is better than the person our commander was previously. With that sentiment placed down, I find myself wondering why exactly he wants to preview them. The room seems a little surprised, but not stunned. The official that spawned the idea of Purem going active again gives a prim nod, and seems to accept the counter offer.
“Very well. I will list current missions by objective importance up to ten. Does this sit right with you?’
“... Yes,” the Commander utters.
All things considered, he’s surviving this meeting relatively well. I’m still internally hovering over my ‘off’ switch, but despite Commander Nine’s stress levels, he’s coming across as, at best, severely constipated to his peers.
“Are you alright, Commander?”
“I…”
Oh, he’s faltering.
“... Ate something weird.”
Was this his usual excuse?
“I see. Be sure to visit the medical ward for some medicine. We’re almost done here.”
“N-no need. I’m sure it will pass naturally.”
My relief matches my commander’s. I breathe off a soft sigh of relief through my nose, unnoticed by the gathering of men and women here. Truly, it’s as if I am a ghost. I believe Commander has forgotten about ‘reporting progress’ on me as well; he’s made no moves to bring it up, not that I expect him to know when to cut in.
“Starting with the most important and relevant of missions, a search-and-rescue is planned to take place in twenty-four hours to look for squads that have not returned from their missions in conjunction with Silver Gun… You would be going with your squad to…”
I can feel Commander Nine’s heart rate skyrocket. What on…
“... Silver…?” He mutters, and I find myself looking at him in concern. He looks as though he’s come across something familiar; he’s mentally reaching for it in desperation.
“... We have been unable to reach these squads, but believe they may still be alive…”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“... No, there’s…”
“Pardon, Commander?” The official doesn’t seem to enjoy being talked over by unintelligible muttering.
“... Am I remembering the first few chapters right? We can’t be approaching zero… But if we are, that means…”
I cut my voice into his thoughts.
“Commander.” It’s emergent; I place my hand on the man’s thigh, and he jolts back to reality. He looks like he’s seen a ghost, but for now I don't seem to need to shut myself off to scapegoat for him. I can save it for a genuine emergency if things go further south. “... I almost forgot. I believe it is almost time to talk about my rehabilitation progress. Don’t you agree?” Anything to change the subject. Nine stares at me for a little too long, but once he comes to, he looks grateful and nods quickly. I add; “I will take the lead from here, if you would grant permission.”
It looks like the timing was miraculously in line with the ending of the briefing of the first mission. The Central Government officials look to us expectantly, and Nine shrinks a bit. He clears his throat roughly.
“Yes, of course,” he says, and it’s almost the most stable thing he’s said all day. “... But first… I would like to decline this first mission. I… I’m sure there are plenty of capable Squads signing up for this particular outing. I’ll take the next three listed… I’ll accept the briefings after the meeting.”
He’s saying it as if he’s making a selfish decision. There’s guilt in his voice, and I can’t parse for what reason he could possibly feel so clearly shameful for making a simple choice to decline a mission. Sure, it was at the top of the list, but that didn’t make declining it a crime. The officials seem puzzled of his sudden decision to not be briefed on the rest of the missions, because as far as they can tell, he’s gone from hand-picking to seemingly choosing at random. I, too, can’t figure out what’s going on in his head. But I don’t need to.
“Understood. We shall send you the briefings of the next three listed in relevance. You are free to have your Nikke report on his progress.”
It’s time. I nod, and my wheelchair centers itself to face the assembly around the table. I pause, looking at the faces of every human there; some of them are a bit overweight, and likely have never been to the surface themselves. They have no idea what they’re advising on, and live through second- and third-hand reports. I find myself feeling a little sad for them, but I’m not sure why.
“... I will hereby give my report on rehabilitation for NIKKE model Clear.”
I have the stage.
“As of July of last year, we have undergone various trials to pinpoint what may be causing my body dissonance. It is fair to assume that not unlike discontinued modifications such as missile arms and jet legs, my dissonance is caused by possessing a female brain in a male presenting body. However, this is not the case, or at least it is theorized not to be. Desynchronization typically occurs with body parts a human female would not typically have, and legs are outside of that fantasy. Should I be facing any sort of dissonance that would be logical, it would be with genitalia, which is entirely cosmetic and serves no purpose. As it stands, I face no difficulty with the NIKKE male genitalia that has been installed on my body. That much is surprising considering the dissonance is, as previously mentioned, in a region that a female and male body possesses in tandem.”
I pause to ensure the room is following along. Nine is trying to hide their surprise, but this is the first time he’s hearing a formal presentation on his own project. He’s catching up, even if he does have the old commander’s memories.
“As such, between the squad’s missions, the Commander has worked to try to pinpoint if trauma is the source of my dissonance. So far, there are no findings. My memory is limited. Even if I had trauma, I would likely not have kept it in my repository long, but this spawns a new question. Can NIKKEs of my antiquity sustain trauma despite memories being erased?”
The crowd seems interested and disinterested at the same time, and I have to keep that at a healthy balance.
“... Naturally, given my antiquity, this study holds little pragmatic value. New NIKKEs do not often need their memory erased, and when it is, it is clear they will have no trace of their past memories left behind. This goes to show our advancement in NIKKE science since an era such as the First Rapture Invasion.”
The officials, who hold little realistic impact in the science of NIKKEs and are instead figureheads, look proud of themselves at my last comment, which to them comes out as praise. Commander Nine looks like he wants to say something, but isn’t letting himself speak. I pause to give him the floor, but he doesn’t take it. So I continue.
“In conclusion, since the beginning of this project in July of last year, there is still little progress and much speculation to make. I still cannot walk, and cannot fulfill any duties on the surface as such a liability. I request to remain in the Commander's care despite this, and for the study to remain ongoing.”
The room is silent following the completion of my briefing. The officials look at one another, raising a brow each. One finally speaks.
“We understand this is a project Tetra Line is sponsoring, but we find it hard to believe that six months of nonprogress is enough reason to request continuation… Commander, if you feel Clear is a lost cause, we can discontinue this project immediately.”
“... What? No,” the Commander says, and his voice is evidently filled with every ounce of fear in his body. I’m a little surprised. I understand I am Commander Nine’s lifeline right now, but I’ve been entrusted with information of his I can easily delete and begin anew elsewhere. Still, I think I can understand the Commander’s wishes.
“... While it is true the Commander can discontinue this project anytime he wishes, I personally wish to erase my liability status and become a viable member of Squad Purem. I think he understands this.”
“I do!” Nine blurts, placing a palm on the table rather quickly. “... Ahem, I mean -- I mean, yes, I do. I imagine Clear at his full potential would be a great boon to Purem…!”
Ah, let’s not stumble now… If I were to have to disable my consciousness now, how would that look in light of this kind of talk? Stay strong, Nine…
"... As such, I will echo his request and ask that this rehabilitation project resumes regardless of current progress!”
“Commander…” I’m surprised at how well he’s picking up the pace here. And, I’m a little touched without realizing it.
The officials don’t look terribly convinced, but to deny Commander Nine after his outburst wouldn’t follow the decorum of conversation flow. As such, the officials are forced to oblige.
“... We will overlook the lack of progress. You are free to continue. However, I will be reducing my donations to the cause by 10 percent. Is this acceptable?”
“... I, too, will reduce my donations by 15 percent.”
“I will keep mine the same, but if no progress is made by the end of the quarter, I am pulling support entirely.”
… It’s harsh, but without our efforts, it could have been worse. Nine seems utterly crushed by their sternness, but I clear my throat to draw attention back to myself. I raise a hand to gesture in kindness to the three officials before us.
“Thank you for your generosity. We will do our utmost to repair my dissonance at the earliest.”
They seem satisfied. The meeting is starting to draw to a close; there is now nothing left to discuss. Commander seems unaware, though. His foot is tapping nervously, and his heart rate has been astronomical since they first brought up the briefing for the first mission. I want to ask what’s wrong as soon as possible, but now is not a good time. As such, I make the first move to get things moved along to where I can inquire.
“Commander,” I say. “I believe now is a good time to call the meeting to a close.”
“... Thank you for your advice, Clear. I-I agree, now is as good as ever to part ways. Is there anything left to discuss?”
The officials shake their heads, and begin quietly gathering their things in a proper, steady manner. Not too fast, not too slow. It’s evident to me that for Nine, they couldn’t be any slower. He’s ready to leave. The officials file out, and I’m left with a rather sweaty Commander and a heavy silence.
[[ CHAPTER 03 END ]]