37Note from the author: Hello to all! Firstly I'm giving a huge apology for the lateness in this whole story. I was writing it but I lost inspiration after two chapters and stopped for a while. Then, I finally obtained the complete 2001 series from so it took me ages to watch the whole thing. Now I'm finished it and writing is back in progress, I've edited what I'd already done and it should be ready soon. I'm now also aware that the prequel to this (first generation) isn't 'in accordance' with the TV series; I'm not changing that. But, anyway, while I un-kink the second generation, here's the prologue. Enjoy and thanks to the fans of First generation for being so patient!
Prologue
23rd December 1984
Extract from the diary of Dr Isaac Gilmore, Black Ghost research scientist.
Funny, another winter has passed with barely any progress made on our cybernetics project. Every winter for the past twenty odd years I've looked over the year's progress, realised how dismal our work has been and promised myself that I'll crack the answer to our problems by the time another year has passed. Despite the determination and almost desperation of my scientists and me we're still a long way away from our goals.
The goal is simple, to create strong, powerful cyborg soldiers who will never disobey us. Our first four test subjects failed each and every criterion completely. I personally am grateful for still being alive. Rumours fly around from department to department of the boss' short temper and lack of tolerance for failure. We all know that if we fail too many times then we will die. It's the only thing that makes us do the things we do.
But, I'd never admit this to anyone else; I truly want to succeed at this. This has been my greatest challenge and nothing would give me more pleasure than to see my work become successful. Dr Kuroda, god rest his soul, once said that you can tell a lot from a scientist from the work he does. It makes a strange kind of sense sometimes. When my life was hard I always dreamed of escaping it all, flying away, as it were. Maybe that's why things have felt so, so wrong for the past few months; it's this deep disappointment at the failure of my three subjects and Gamo's little prodigy. They should have worked; my months of calculating and planning should have made them perfect.
But, regardless of our wishes, the subjects were a failure. Subject 004 nearly blew his leg off when he tried to launch one of the mini fly-bombs we had installed. Of course that wasn't the only problem by far; all three of my projects were riddled with discrepancies and errors that nearly wrecked the project for good.
I'm standing in the cryogenics room, my failed attempts at playing god in front of me. Through the thin mist of my breath in front of me I see them, faintly illuminated by the blue light that escaped in from the corridor outside. It highlights their faces, making them look like carvings of white stone, ancient deities captured as statues. Behind their closed eyes I can almost see my entire work with Black Ghost in front of me. The word, failure, closes in around me. Failure, failure, you failed. The four of them keep saying the word to me without ever moving or speaking. I feel twenty years' worth of anger and frustration boiling up inside of me.
This couldn't be my fault, I tried so hard to make them perfect but they weren't. This is their fault; they are the failures, not me! They were the ones who tried to resist, they created the problem and they are the reason we're not getting anywhere! For what feels like hours I silently vent my frustration at my silent witnesses! In my anger I even follow ridiculous paths of logic and come to absurd conclusions.
Why would you even want to fight this?! I ask them. You've been given god-like powers that men like me can only ever dream of. And, and you'll be forever young, time has had no effect on you. Look at me, twenty years on! Twenty damn years and you four haven't even lost any skin cells! You are the realisation of thousands of years' of mankind's dreams; you should be grateful!
I collapse to my knees, energy absolutely spent. My four subjects remain as still as statues. A voice speaks behind me.
Well I never Gilmore, says Rita, my only female assistant. And there was me thinking you were starting to wither in your old age.
She walks over to my side and helps me to my feet. A moment passes where she merely sighs and glances up at the frozen subjects.
Still fraternising with the ghosts of Christmas' past? She says, a half smile on her face. You know you can't change the past no matter how many hours you spend down here in the freezer. We'll find what were looking for. Just you wait, even if it's after your time. If you go the same way as dear Mr Kuroda did we'll bury you next to this lot and name one of them after you when we succeed.
I glare at her, she smiles, glad to have offended someone, making the day less of a waste in her books. She hands me a thick brown envelope and smiles again.
I would tell you to forget this lot, She says, jerking her thumb up at the test subjects. But, the bosses want us to do some background research on this lot. I dunno why, before you ask; something to do with looking for any underlying physical problems that we might have missed. Anyway, here's a nice little 'Christmas card' to get you started. See you at dinner.
She walks out the door, leaving me with the envelope and my subjects. Inside the envelope are three pieces of paper and some photos. I scan the photos, two are high-school portrait shots for 002 and 003, one is a driver's licence for 004 and there are the photos that we took of each of them before we began operating. It sends an involuntary shiver down my spine.
I half-heartedly skim through the missing persons reports, picking up random facts. Ballet student, truck driver, three arrests, older brother… The only medical records in the envelope are a few sparse notes about an in-grown toenail on 003 from four years before we got to her. This is going to be a long, difficult and probably pointless task and I'd much rather be continuing my research. I throw the envelope down into the floor. If the four of them weren't taunting me before they are now.
As I pick up the envelope something catches my eye, a scrawled note on the back of one of the photos.
'Hey, Sallie. Meet me behind the gyms after school?'
Below it is another note, in different handwriting.
"In your dreams Jet."
I turn the photo over; it's a photo of 002 with a bunch of other boys his own age. Then, it hits me. I didn't know that 002 was called Jet. In fact, apart from 001 I haven't the faintest idea of what the names of the test subjects above me were. I pick up the reports again and scan them quickly. I mutter the names to myself like a secret language.
Jet Anthony Link… Francoise Cécile Arnoul… Albert Freder Heinrich…
Everything stops. All of a sudden the frozen machines in front of me are people. People with names, families, homes and lives… The world suddenly feels distorted and inverted. My palms begin to sweat, my mouth becomes dry and I begin to shake all over… Everything turns white… What have I done...?
Doctor? Doctor! Wake up Dr Gilmore!
The voices seem distant and artificial. But, they are connected to me. These people shared the evil deeds with me; our hands are covered in blood and I have to wash it away while I still can. I have to make things right, I just can't be the only one who thinks so… There must be others… Dr Ryan, Professor Nekasa, Dr Saito… Between us we'll set things right… I only hope we can be forgiven…
