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(big SV spoilers below! Proceed with caution)
When Clavell arrived at Zero Lab, he wasn't entirely certain how he had gotten there. Vaguely he remembered from the vaunted old tome that the explorer Heath had reported memory loss in the area, but somehow this felt different. No mystic force felt involved, no visions of a crystalline creature, but simply the disassociation that came with crushing grief.
It had been happening a lot lately.
He probably shouldn't have come alone. The farthest depths of Area Zero was one of the most dangerous places in the world under the best of circumstances, and a lone old man who kept zoning out, too focused on his own emotions to notice the world around him, stood almost no chance.
A researcher who had devoted her life to the study of that place had stood no chance. And that was why he was there, driven by that loss to pursue answers.
In a way, he mused softly, it was the same thing she had done.
It seemed like there was no way to fully de-power the lab. A dim light still shone from overhead, the computers were still functioning though the screens were off, the containment capsules still displayed all the data they could extract from the crystal samples within.
Despite the ruinous state, the lab was still so similar to how he had left it. He could easily envision Sada pushing one of the large pieces of rubble aside and complaining loudly about whoever could have let her precious lab come to this.
And yet, repairing it simply wasn't an option. Only Sada herself understood how anything worked any more, or her and her AI, and neither of them were around to offer aid.
Clavell turned on the monitor array and was met with a login screen that hadn't existed before. He somehow wasn't surprised. From what he had gleaned from the journals Florian had retrieved from the research stations, Sada's final years had degenerated into paranoia. After she had cast out her assistants, there was no one left to monitor her, to keep her stable and grounded. Only an exact double with her own memories, built from a creator who was too far gone already.
He wondered what she had been studying when she died. What research had led to her end? He knew what had killed her, that Koraidon that the horrific security system had termed the "Guardian of Paradise". The other Koraidon, the one she had had for years, the one that had emerged early on in her experiments, had been so docile that it was easy to believe how she could underestimate another of the species. But was that her final project or had it simply been nearby? The AI hadn't the penchant for journaling that the original did, and so there was no known record of events.
Without a thought, he flopped on the bed, dust flying up from the motion. All the beds had been in offshoot rooms before, the lab once fully stocked to supply a crew of a dozen or so. Not that it had ever been so populated, but in the early days of her research, Sada had wanted as many hands on the project as she could get, and Clavell had happily gone along with it.
It was refreshing to be in the company of such a brilliant mind. If only he had known she would decline so badly. He never would have left her side if he had any idea this would happen.
But, he knew, he was a fool to think he could have changed anything. Someone as strong-willed, as dedicated, as passionate as Sada could never be dissuaded. And the last time he had seen her--truly her, not her duplicate posing as her--was the day she had dismissed everyone else.
That duplicate had seemed so happy, he thought as he laid back on the dusty bed. He had no idea he was speaking to anybody other than his dear friend, and had taken her upbeat attitude as a positive sign. Her smile was back to what it had been years ago, and there had been a light in her eyes that Clavell had once treasured. To find out that wasn't the spark of passionate life, but merely a mechanical glint on a monitor, was heartbreaking.
Florian was adamant that the AI possessed true emotion. But they weren't Sada's emotions, and that made all the difference to Clavell. Even if it had been another human posing as her and not an artificial being, it still wasn't Sada, and that was all that mattered.
He didn't know where she was now, and likely never would. If she had been struck by the woefully powerful Tera Blast, it was possible that her body was entombed in the large crystal that encroached on the fourth research station. But it would be unlikely that anyone could carve into the massive thing, and if she was truly in there he wouldn't want anyone to try. Or perhaps the AI could have buried her somewhere, but the knowledge of any such location now only existed in the distant past.
The memory that the people of Paldea held of Professor Sada was that of a brilliant scientific mind, perhaps the greatest in the region's long history, and a tragic loss of a life cut so short. What else could she have accomplished, people wondered.
The knowledge of her true goal, the mad "Paradise" she sought that would have threatened Paldea and the world beyond by forcing creatures of a bygone age into the modern era, that was kept under very tight wraps. Clavell wasn't certain if it would be acceptable to ever release that information to the public, but the current plan was to not reveal it so long as her son Arven was still alive. Though this assumed that he lived for a very long time, even with Sada's own short life showing how foolish it was to try and predict these things.
Clavell's own memories of her were something else entirely. The promising student, always so exuberant and curious. The gifted scientist, presenting her revolutionary findings to a grateful nation. The frustrated researcher, complaining loudly about the piles of paperwork before her, eager to get back to her studies instead of fretting about funding.
The lonely young woman who showed up at his door with her newborn in her arms and the simple words "he left us" on her lips, who could barely manage to set the infant down before she collapsed in unguarded tears.
The adamant dreamer, starry-eyed at the thought of a lab of her very own in the heart of Area Zero.
The obsessed zealot, muttering about "Paradise", whatever that meant. Although that last was no memory, merely Clavell's imagination. He had never seen her fully in that state, but the thought of it continued to stab at him, to force tears from his eyes in a torrent, to wrench a sob from his throat. He curled tight in the blanket, the exhaustion of his perilous journey to the lab finally catching up to him, but he didn't dare fall asleep, not in her bed. After some unknown time, a time consumed with eroding grief, he forced himself back up, on shaking legs.
He wished he could have some character to fall back on. To whoever needed it, he could be "Clive", the reliable and relatable student. If called upon, he could even take up the mantle of the mastermind "Cassiopeia", though he hadn't truly done so yet. But to Sada he had only ever been himself, so he could only proceed as himself. He couldn't detach from the moment, or from himself, or from his dear friend.
One small addition caught his eye. That photograph hadn't been there before, a small boy curled up with a puppy, but it was pinned up among notes and numbers. She had placed it in a spot she would see many times a day, and he could only imagine what she must have thought every time it would pass her vision. Her dear son, the boy she had left so long ago, had grown up so strong and brave, something he insisted was out of spite towards the parents that had abandoned him. Clavell knew better than to tell him, but he could see traits of both Arven's parents in him--in his flair for the dramatic, in his enthusiasm for the everyday, in his deep love for his friends--and he prayed to whoever would listen that Arven would be able to hold onto all those things and never fall away, never lose himself like his mother had.
To always have a compassionate heart, that was what Clavell desired for all those that were dear to him. No matter what life could throw at them, if they could cling to that one thing, that was all that was needed.
And despite all the savagery of "Paradise", despite every evil she would have unleashed, Sada had still died to protect a being that was dear to her.
Clavell would never know how much of her old self had remained at the end. He would never know if her final moments brought regret or clarity, or if she had only desired Paradise. He would never know if she could have changed.
He unpinned the photograph and slid it into his jacket pocket. The least he could do was return it to Arven.
The great Professor Sada left behind so much--unfinished research, a legacy of greatness, a broken laboratory. But most of all she left behind those who cared for her, those she had shunned to pursue her work, and they would never know for certain how much of that loving spark still remained. All they had was the memory of a complex woman who died too soon, and that, forever, would have to be enough.
When Clavell arrived at Zero Lab, he wasn't entirely certain how he had gotten there. Vaguely he remembered from the vaunted old tome that the explorer Heath had reported memory loss in the area, but somehow this felt different. No mystic force felt involved, no visions of a crystalline creature, but simply the disassociation that came with crushing grief.
It had been happening a lot lately.
He probably shouldn't have come alone. The farthest depths of Area Zero was one of the most dangerous places in the world under the best of circumstances, and a lone old man who kept zoning out, too focused on his own emotions to notice the world around him, stood almost no chance.
A researcher who had devoted her life to the study of that place had stood no chance. And that was why he was there, driven by that loss to pursue answers.
In a way, he mused softly, it was the same thing she had done.
It seemed like there was no way to fully de-power the lab. A dim light still shone from overhead, the computers were still functioning though the screens were off, the containment capsules still displayed all the data they could extract from the crystal samples within.
Despite the ruinous state, the lab was still so similar to how he had left it. He could easily envision Sada pushing one of the large pieces of rubble aside and complaining loudly about whoever could have let her precious lab come to this.
And yet, repairing it simply wasn't an option. Only Sada herself understood how anything worked any more, or her and her AI, and neither of them were around to offer aid.
Clavell turned on the monitor array and was met with a login screen that hadn't existed before. He somehow wasn't surprised. From what he had gleaned from the journals Florian had retrieved from the research stations, Sada's final years had degenerated into paranoia. After she had cast out her assistants, there was no one left to monitor her, to keep her stable and grounded. Only an exact double with her own memories, built from a creator who was too far gone already.
He wondered what she had been studying when she died. What research had led to her end? He knew what had killed her, that Koraidon that the horrific security system had termed the "Guardian of Paradise". The other Koraidon, the one she had had for years, the one that had emerged early on in her experiments, had been so docile that it was easy to believe how she could underestimate another of the species. But was that her final project or had it simply been nearby? The AI hadn't the penchant for journaling that the original did, and so there was no known record of events.
Without a thought, he flopped on the bed, dust flying up from the motion. All the beds had been in offshoot rooms before, the lab once fully stocked to supply a crew of a dozen or so. Not that it had ever been so populated, but in the early days of her research, Sada had wanted as many hands on the project as she could get, and Clavell had happily gone along with it.
It was refreshing to be in the company of such a brilliant mind. If only he had known she would decline so badly. He never would have left her side if he had any idea this would happen.
But, he knew, he was a fool to think he could have changed anything. Someone as strong-willed, as dedicated, as passionate as Sada could never be dissuaded. And the last time he had seen her--truly her, not her duplicate posing as her--was the day she had dismissed everyone else.
That duplicate had seemed so happy, he thought as he laid back on the dusty bed. He had no idea he was speaking to anybody other than his dear friend, and had taken her upbeat attitude as a positive sign. Her smile was back to what it had been years ago, and there had been a light in her eyes that Clavell had once treasured. To find out that wasn't the spark of passionate life, but merely a mechanical glint on a monitor, was heartbreaking.
Florian was adamant that the AI possessed true emotion. But they weren't Sada's emotions, and that made all the difference to Clavell. Even if it had been another human posing as her and not an artificial being, it still wasn't Sada, and that was all that mattered.
He didn't know where she was now, and likely never would. If she had been struck by the woefully powerful Tera Blast, it was possible that her body was entombed in the large crystal that encroached on the fourth research station. But it would be unlikely that anyone could carve into the massive thing, and if she was truly in there he wouldn't want anyone to try. Or perhaps the AI could have buried her somewhere, but the knowledge of any such location now only existed in the distant past.
The memory that the people of Paldea held of Professor Sada was that of a brilliant scientific mind, perhaps the greatest in the region's long history, and a tragic loss of a life cut so short. What else could she have accomplished, people wondered.
The knowledge of her true goal, the mad "Paradise" she sought that would have threatened Paldea and the world beyond by forcing creatures of a bygone age into the modern era, that was kept under very tight wraps. Clavell wasn't certain if it would be acceptable to ever release that information to the public, but the current plan was to not reveal it so long as her son Arven was still alive. Though this assumed that he lived for a very long time, even with Sada's own short life showing how foolish it was to try and predict these things.
Clavell's own memories of her were something else entirely. The promising student, always so exuberant and curious. The gifted scientist, presenting her revolutionary findings to a grateful nation. The frustrated researcher, complaining loudly about the piles of paperwork before her, eager to get back to her studies instead of fretting about funding.
The lonely young woman who showed up at his door with her newborn in her arms and the simple words "he left us" on her lips, who could barely manage to set the infant down before she collapsed in unguarded tears.
The adamant dreamer, starry-eyed at the thought of a lab of her very own in the heart of Area Zero.
The obsessed zealot, muttering about "Paradise", whatever that meant. Although that last was no memory, merely Clavell's imagination. He had never seen her fully in that state, but the thought of it continued to stab at him, to force tears from his eyes in a torrent, to wrench a sob from his throat. He curled tight in the blanket, the exhaustion of his perilous journey to the lab finally catching up to him, but he didn't dare fall asleep, not in her bed. After some unknown time, a time consumed with eroding grief, he forced himself back up, on shaking legs.
He wished he could have some character to fall back on. To whoever needed it, he could be "Clive", the reliable and relatable student. If called upon, he could even take up the mantle of the mastermind "Cassiopeia", though he hadn't truly done so yet. But to Sada he had only ever been himself, so he could only proceed as himself. He couldn't detach from the moment, or from himself, or from his dear friend.
One small addition caught his eye. That photograph hadn't been there before, a small boy curled up with a puppy, but it was pinned up among notes and numbers. She had placed it in a spot she would see many times a day, and he could only imagine what she must have thought every time it would pass her vision. Her dear son, the boy she had left so long ago, had grown up so strong and brave, something he insisted was out of spite towards the parents that had abandoned him. Clavell knew better than to tell him, but he could see traits of both Arven's parents in him--in his flair for the dramatic, in his enthusiasm for the everyday, in his deep love for his friends--and he prayed to whoever would listen that Arven would be able to hold onto all those things and never fall away, never lose himself like his mother had.
To always have a compassionate heart, that was what Clavell desired for all those that were dear to him. No matter what life could throw at them, if they could cling to that one thing, that was all that was needed.
And despite all the savagery of "Paradise", despite every evil she would have unleashed, Sada had still died to protect a being that was dear to her.
Clavell would never know how much of her old self had remained at the end. He would never know if her final moments brought regret or clarity, or if she had only desired Paradise. He would never know if she could have changed.
He unpinned the photograph and slid it into his jacket pocket. The least he could do was return it to Arven.
The great Professor Sada left behind so much--unfinished research, a legacy of greatness, a broken laboratory. But most of all she left behind those who cared for her, those she had shunned to pursue her work, and they would never know for certain how much of that loving spark still remained. All they had was the memory of a complex woman who died too soon, and that, forever, would have to be enough.
