Room 208

It’s been about a month since I’ve been stationed at this Japanese base. With the settling in out of the way and the paperwork mostly done (though I hardly know how I did it - kanji are almost as alien to me as when I started learning Japanese) I’ve finally begun practice again in the T-RIDEN-T.

The GeoFront is a wonder to behold, an absolute marvel of engineering; I doubt I will ever grow tired of it. The domed sky only serves to highlight its titanic proportions. Even from the cockpit of the T-RIDEN-T, this overgrown underground sanctuary is positively enormous. I’ve finally been briefed on what we will be fighting - as strange as it may sound, I’m pleased to know we’re not defending against the threat of other human beings.

My experience with the GeoFront is, however, a punctuation within the boredom of weekday routine. Wake up at 7. Breakfast at the general mess hall. Be at meeting room for 8:00. Be assigned duties; lunch break (on partial alert) is a half hour, beginning at 11:30. Day ends at 17:00. Personal time begins; on partial alert.

There has been something strange of note even during these hours, however.

I sometimes see this strange boy when I am on the mid-day break. Must be the Evangelion pilot I occasionally train with; the distortion on the low-frequency combat link make it impossible to be certain, but there is no other reason for such a young individual to be within a military base. He caught me looking at him once and was visibly uncomfortable. My mistake; I should have known better but I was astonished by his appearance. Intensely pale. Bleach-white hair at such a young age…

He seems to avoid interaction with others but given the nature of the individuals in this facility I cannot blame him. I’ve asked others at NERV about him but I am sternly informed that such information is not available for individuals at my clearance level. My technician colleagues say they never see him around the TRIDENT bay and it appears the only time I see him is when he has found a corner he can have for himself during these mid-day breaks.

I had a board game requisitioned from Tokyo-3 by NERV; they won’t let me out onto the surface. They say my appearance amongst the populace would be a liability. I suppose any foreigner on the surface would raise suspicion after all the unmarked tankers last month.

We’ll see what happens. Social graces be damned, I will learn more about this child.

Osip Zhgun had spent portions of his last two lunch periods taking detours down lesser-travelled halls of NERV on his way to the mess hall. His search for the enigmatic youth had been fruitless so far, and the squat, rectangular box he had been carrying with him to and from the mess hall was beginning to garner him strange looks. Today was the third day of his search.

This time, about halfway to the break room and walking down a hallway connected to a parallel corridor through several side-path, Osip spotted the teenager in one of the barren side halls. He was in uniform except for a nondescript messenger bag slung around himself. He seemed nonchalant, picking at the wall with something unidentifiable at the given distance. The only other object in the hallway was a single stool, placed closer towards Osip and against the wall opposite of the boy. Osip stopped and briefly looked in both directions. This was a very low-traffic area of the base, but it always helped to make sure. Seeing no one, he turned and headed into conversational distance with the teenager.

“You must be the Eva pilot,” he began, cautiously. The teen continued picking, ignoring the Russian’s heavily-accented inquiry.

Osip blinked. Gently clearing his throat, he continued with increased confidence. “I am Leytenant Osip Zhgun. I pilot the T-RIDEN-T you sometimes practice with.”

“Were you supposed to tell me that?” the boy said matter-of-factly. Curious accent, Osip thought. He relaxed in posture as he finally gained the youth’s attention.

“Actually, no. I have been refused information about you since I came here, in fact. They do not trust their Russian comrades. I do not understand how they expect me to pilot so closely in tune with allies I have never met.”

A pause. Osip continued, unsure of the boy’s attention. “…What is your name?”

“They haven’t told me anything about you, either. That’s why I asked.” He continued to face the wall, toiling away with his unidentified implement.

Osip raised an eyebrow at the ignored request.

“I do not know how much I may legally tell you, but I cannot comprehend how NERV staff were not informed about the circumstances to begin with.” Perhaps indulging him would provide some basic grounds for trust, Osip thought. He took a deep breath. “I have only been here for a few weeks. I, the T-RIDEN-T, and her technicians have been sent into NERV Japan to assist with their current operation.” Osip’s accent filtered his vehicle’s name jarringly. “Judging from your accent, I can only assume similar circumstances.”

“Yes. I apologize for my inability to speak, Leytenant,” the boy responded monotonously. He pocketed the tool - what seemed to be a screwdriver - and switched to a piece of stiff wire, which he began to fiddle with instead.

Osip smirked. “I would hardly call it an inability. As I do, you simply need more practice.” This has not gone so well well, he thought. Now is as good a time as ever. He began again, quickly. “It is rather dreary in this facility. I imagined you might prefer to deal in amusements rather than business.” Osip shifted his own focus to the box in his grip, bringing it up to chest-height to pick at the tape with his other hand. He looked up again. “I brought a…board game. Have you ever played Chess?”

The boy suddenly stopped. “Yes.”

Osip hastened slightly. “Well. I have played it myself, though in no extensive capacity. Where I have come from there was little interest and fewer opponents.” Having peeled the tape, he slung one arm under the box and slid the top half of the case off. The cardboard box’s hinge held onto the lid. The boy pocketed the wire and looked at the box curiously.

Within the box was a thin, wooden chessboard. Plastic playing pieces were enclosed within stiff plastic bags; the entire package was clearly third-rate. A three-panel, paper beginner’s manual sat under the two bags of pieces. Osip continued. “In that case, would you be interested in a game? I don’t believe we have nearly enough time over these half-hour lunches, but there are simple ways to play over a longer period of time…”

“Hm. Yes,” the boy responded.

Osip appeared genuinely pleased. “Excellent. I could try to requisition another board to allow us to keep track of the game individually, but as it stands the board will have to remain at one of our residencies…”

The boy spoke up. “Eh…why don’t we worry about that after starting a game? If you play often, I probably won’t last long.”

“The problem is that NERV-” Osip began before seeing the boy’s reasoning. He quickly shuffled in his pocket for his pager. About twenty minutes left in this lunch. “Well, I suppose we could always do that.” He began to look for a surface to set the table down on.

“That NERV what?” the boy asked. Osip finally recalled the presence of the stool and, leaning over, dragged it into the middle of the hall.

“If we are being refused information on one another, then NERV would likely take issue with us going to each others’ residencies after hours.” Zhgun set the flimsy playing board onto the stool and, squatting, set the game’s box on the floor in order to begin opening the bags of pieces. He then continued, almost to himself. “Alternatively we could meet here to exchange moves, but that again requires a second board. Not that it would be difficult to requisition one, considering how much this one could have possibly cost them…”

Meanwhile, the boy moved to sit with his legs crossed; the height of the stool placed the board inconveniently high for him in this seating position. “Did they order you not to… talk, be near me?” he interjected lightly.

Osip paused. “Information on this subject is highly classified,” the NERV staff told him time and time again. “As of now we cannot offer you any more than that.” Their tone was always stern, cautious. As of now? he thought. What harm is it if I learn more of him sooner than later? Am I even allowed to speak with him? …And how could they possibly discipline me, one of their precious few pilots, for knowing my teammates better?

“Not…explicitly.” He began to set the pieces on the board. “But I do not believe they intended me to meet you just yet, and they certainly do not want me to learn anything about you.” He looked up and remarked, “Though you seem to be doing a good enough job of preventing me from achieving that regardless.”

Finally, Osip finished setting the pieces on the board and, seeing no other options, eased himself into a similarly cross-legged seating position on the floor. The board was rotated so that the two opposing forces formed lines on either side of the two players. “Would you like to start?” he asked.

“I’ll play black,” the boy responded. “And I’m sorry, I’m not used to people talking to me before it starts.” Osip nodded and gently revolved the playing board, bringing the white pieces over to himself. He then moved a pawn forward. “…It?”

The boy glanced aside. “…I said that wrong. Before I’m needed.” He shifted into a kneeling position, having a more convenient view of the board that way, and mirrored Osip’s move.

Osip looked inquisitive as he made his response in-game, moving another pawn. “For that matter, I have not learned much about the Evangelion. They were particularly snide in informing me that information on it was unclassified, but I never really bothered to read into it. Too much unpacking to do instead…” He leaned back slightly, attempting to straighten his posture without putting his hands on the floor. “I assume you work with it for most of your days around here, as I do with the T-RIDEN-T. Not particularly relaxing, operating a vehicle all day.”

“No, it isn’t very pleasant.” The boy was looking at the pieces, but his focus was momentarily elsewhere. “Though… the combat simulations do have some advantage. You don’t have to think about anything but the target, for once.” He made another move as Osip raised an eyebrow.

“Combat is easier? Interesting…the T-RIDEN-T only becomes more cumbersome when aiming becomes a factor-” He winced as he made a deduction. “Or, wait. The pressure only becomes worse when you leave the cockpit, doesn’t it?”

“Pressure?” the boy asked.

Osip made his next move. “Well. I imagine military life is difficult for a child. It is a shame what they are putting you through,” he said sombrely.

“A shame. Hm.” The boy made his next move, unfazed. “You must be used to it, Leytenant.”

Osip paused, baffled. “Well. Conscription in Russia occurs at 18 for every able-bodied male. I have only been doing this for two years.” Osip stopped somewhat abruptly, intending to say more. “…Nonetheless, to be a Leytenant at my age required no small transitions.”

“Oh,” the boy responded, “what they’ve doing to me is mostly normal, then.” He froze for a few seconds - holding a chess piece suspended above a space before placing it. A momentary silence formed as Osip attempted to hide his consternation.

Instead, he established a simple defense in-game. “There is no need for formalities. We are pilots; beyond all else we fight together. Please, you may call me Osip.”

“Lou.”

Lou stared at Osip for several seconds. Osip glanced up at him from the board and smirked.

Lou suddenly flushed. “It’s not like I got to choose my name.”

Osip broke into a full smile. “One’s name is nothing to be ashamed of! It is not as if the Japanese have the grasp of your language to have any reasonable opinion on it, anyhow.” He checked his pager and his face fell slightly; 5 minutes to the end of lunch. “I present a dilemma. We are out of time,” he said.

“Mm.” Lou quickly took a notebook and pen from his bag, and began to sketch something. “What are you writing?” asked Osip. After a few moments, Lou stood and turned the notebook around to show him. On the page was the game board, complete with the positions of each piece at the current stage of the game. “Now you can put the pieces away. Thank you, Leytenant Osip.”

Osip shook his head as he switched to a kneeling position, beginning to gather the game pieces. “I should have imagined,” he muttered. He spoke again as As Lou turned to leave. “It has been a pleasure. Should we meet here again, or…?”

“Sure.”

Osip nodded as he stood, having returned the game to its box. “Alright then. We will meet here again tomorrow. Goodbye, Lou.” He too turned to return to his locker, glancing once at the hole in the wall before leaving.