An endless expanse of green stretched out beneath me. It was exactly like the picture I'd seen in a magazine as a kid. The helicopter slowed, and the pilot barked at me over the comm as he prepped for landing. Half of the money up front. "In case you don't come back," he explained. Not that I could blame the guy. I nodded and forked over the cash.

They say Mideel's not a destination for the faint of heart. The terrain is unstable, and the lifestream flows just beneath the surface. The second my boots hit dirt, my chest tightened, and I found myself wishing I could be anywhere else. In other words, it was pretty much what I'd expected.

As the planetologists tell it, the lifestream is the physical manifestation of one stage of existence. In fact, that's the basic premise on which the whole field is built. When a person dies, the body returns to the soil. The soul, however, returns to the planet. Reunited with the lifestream, it courses along in the never-ending flow, circling the world until eventually it settles inside a new organism to begin life again.

Modern society isn't so romantic. To the nonbelievers, the lifestream's just a substance, though a useful one. Harnessed as an energy source, it's called mako, and it powers civilization as we know it.

The only problem is: if the planetologists are right, when mako's gone, it's gone for good. Every time you flick a switch, you're burning through a tiny bit of the planet's life force, and it's never coming back. Makes you wonder what kind of future we've got in store. Personally, I try not to think about it. Mako and all its conveniences are hard to give up. But every once in a while, when I catch sight of one of the reactors in the city's skyline, I can feel the weight of the guilt that's always hanging over me.

God, I wish I could go back to before. I would've liked to grow up without knowing a damn thing about any of it.

I learned what I know of planetology from Ifalna. The woman had an old-school grace, with sharp, almost regal features. That's how I remember her anyway. Last time I saw her was fifteen years ago, and I'd been all of nine at the time. I can still hear her voice in my head.

"We're all connected to the planet through the lifestream," she'd said one day when Aerith and I had been arguing. "You're connected. Aerith is connected. And I am too. Think about what that means. If everyone in the world shares a bond with the planet, then we're all connected to each other. Like tiny drops of water coming together to form a mighty river.

"Which means that when we fight, we're fighting against ourselves. Both you and the planet are happier when you try to get along. So, now that you know that... is there something you'd like to say to Aerith?"

Ifalna was kind. Gentle. Always smiling, even though she didn't have much to be happy about.

Ifalna and her daughter, Aerith...

When I think back on the two Ancients and the time I spent with them, that's when the specter looms largest.

The quiet hot springs town of Mideel sits on the largest of a chain of lush islands far to the south of Midgar. The residents call it a town, but even "settlement" would be a stretch. The first building I laid eyes on was the local clinic, so that's where I started. A medical facility meant records. Leads.

The physician, a man by the name of Donovan, was cordial enough. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with a gaunt face and sunken eyes. Funny how doctors are never in great health themselves.

I pulled out the photo of Geddie Bach. The good doctor immediately replied that the man was no resident of Mideel. I could've told him that.

I threw out a few details to see where it got me. Geddie would have passed through the area fifteen years ago. Were there any records of him receiving treatment at the clinic?

Dr. Donovan retired to the examination room, and I heard the sound of moving boxes and rifled papers. I spied a bench that had seen better days and sat down to wait.

Every so often, I'm grateful for my uniform. There isn't a Shinra-fearing town on this planet where the sight of cobalt blue doesn't open doors and loosen lips. The company has business everywhere. Nobody's surprised when a trooper shows up asking questions, and most people answer obediently, regardless of their personal feelings for Shinra.

The doctor was compliant, too, though his search sure as hell wasn't fast. I was beginning to wonder if he'd lain down for a nap when the door finally opened.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I went twenty years back but found no record of any patient by the name of Geddie Bach."

"Thanks anyway," I said, unable to hide my disappointment.

The doctor offered a sympathetic smile. "That's not to say the man never passed through these parts. If he was in good health, he might've never had a reason to come to the clinic. It might not be a bad idea to ask around. Maybe the older townspeople can tell you more."

"I'll do that," I replied.

But as I lifted myself from the bench, the doctor dropped a name.

"Glen Reiner."

"... Excuse me?"

"I do have record of a Glen Reiner. The time frame matches. He was treated here fifteen years ago─in fact, he was the only patient on record that year who wasn't a native of Mideel. The chart mentions that he was a Shinra trooper, just like you."

My pulse raced.

"Could I see the chart?" I asked.

The doctor nodded, holding out a manila folder he'd brought from the back. Inside were the treatment records for a Glen Reiner.

"Not to pry, but I'm guessing you're here in an unofficial capacity?" asked the doctor.

"... Yeah."

"I never saw you, and I never gave you that chart. You snuck into the clinic after hours and found it all by yourself. Got it?"

I nodded, and Dr. Donovan briskly turned on his heel, heading back to the examination room.

Knowing I'd never get another chance, I called after him, "Is there anything else you remember about Glen?"

"I wouldn't know your Geddie or Glen or any other patient from fifteen years ago. I've only been in Mideel for three."

Apparently, everything I was gonna get from the clinic was already in my hands.

I flicked through the pages of the chart. Fifteen years ago, a villager spotted a man shambling aimlessly through the nearby brush, disoriented and babbling incoherently. The stranger was identified by the Shinra-issue dog tags around his neck. Glen Reiner, twenty-five years old. He was diagnosed with a torn ligament in the right ankle and mid-stage Type III mako poisoning, including symptoms of severe memory disruption. After half a month in the clinic, a passing cargo chopper offered to airlift him back to Midgar. The discharge papers included a hastily scribbled signature from the chopper's pilot; I made it out to read "Jack Klein."

I was already planning my next move. However, I'd made the trek out to the edge of the world; I figured I might as well speak to the other locals before I left.

I flashed the photo of Geddie Bach around. Not a soul claimed to know the man. One wrinkled old villager did recall a Shinra trooper laid up in the clinic once upon a time, but neither the photo nor the names─Geddie or Glen─seemed to ring any bells.

The chart did name the man who carried Glen from the brush to the clinic, but that was a dead end: the villagers informed me he'd passed away some time ago.

Fifteen years is a hell of a long time. Enough for nine-year-old me to grow up into a man of twenty-four, soon to have a kid of my own. I'd found all I was going to find in Mideel, and it was time to get back to Midgar. The pilot I'd hired was all too happy to oblige.

When we touched down, I went straight from the heliport to HQ, where a friendly face and a few slipped bills bought me the next bit of info I'd need.

The official word was that Glen Reiner ate lead on a battlefield in Wutai, date of death only three days after his flight back from Mideel. That's one hell of a dedicated soldier, to shamble back onto the front lines while still in the throes of mako poisoning. And that's one hell of a commanding officer to put him there. Something didn't add up.

But I wasn't after Glen Reiner. I was looking for a man named Geddie Bach, who up and vanished fifteen years back. Geddie would've been in Mideel─I was dead certain about that. My search had instead turned up evidence of Glen, a soldier I'd never heard of and whom the company reported KIA, despite highly unlikely circumstances.

A soldier who just happened to be in the same place at the same time as Geddie: Mideel, fifteen years ago. There was a connection here. I could feel it in my gut.

They say the lifestream bridges time too. It connects people of the past with those in the future. Maybe they're right.

If so, it might mean I was guilty of even more than I thought.

Jack Klein was easy enough to track down. Even the pilot who flew me in and out of Mideel had heard of the guy. Klein's flying days were over, but he still lived in company housing in Sector 7.

He turned out to be a cranky, swollen-faced old bastard. I paid him a visit the following weekend. It wasn't even noon and he already reeked of booze.

Klein was cagey to begin with, and more so when I told him I was looking into something that happened fifteen years ago.

"You're in the service," he snapped. "You know how it is. Some things are on a need-to-know basis."

Fortunately, a bottle of the corner shop's finest vintage turned the conversation around. That, too, was a tip I'd picked up from the pilot who flew me home.

"I ain't a snitch," Klein said. "But I've been told I'm a talky drunk. Get enough in me, and sometimes I start sayin' things I shouldn't."

"Fifteen years ago," I repeated, "you lifted a soldier from Mideel with a serious case of mako poisoning. His name was Glen Reiner."

"Oh, I did, did I?"

I waited.

When the bottle was half-empty, his tongue started wagging.

"Back then, nobody knew shit about mako or how to properly handle the stuff. Saw a whole lot more poisoning cases than you do now. Anyway, when you found a guy who you knew wasn't gonna make it, there were these lab coats in R & D who would take 'em off your hands for a little scratch. I always knew I was bein' paid to keep quiet 'bout the whole thing, but it creeped the hell outta me. I mean, they spun it as an open call for ‘volunteers' to help test out new treatments, but bullshit never smelled so sweet. There ain't a shred of compassion across that whole damn division."

Klein grimaced, as if admitting that he wasn't exactly a beacon of compassion himself. "Yeah, I remember Glen Reiner. When I scooped him outta Mideel, the guy was so far gone, his legs could barely hold him. All wobblin' around with every step like he's about to pass out drunk. Typical mako poisoning. We weren't no friends, but it still broke my heart to see him a husk of the man I sent in."

"Hang on. Are you saying you're the one who flew him into Mideel in the first place?"

"You didn't know? Then what the hell are you here for?"

That was how I first learned of the Special Geological Survey Initiative. The way Klein spoke of it, I could tell he considered his involvement to be the highlight of his career.

The initiative only existed for a brief window, fifteen years ago. The surveyors were enlisted men and women who volunteered for the program and found themselves reporting directly to President Shinra. Selection itself came with a sizable bump in rank, and if the surveyor successfully completed his or her mission, the promised rewards were enormous.

"There were risks, of course," said Klein. "Likelihood of mako exposure was high. Dangerous levels. Possibly fatal. 'Cause that's exactly what they were searchin' for, see? Natural reactor sites.

"Here's the kicker, though. President Shinra must've been out of his goddamn mind, because the only clue he gave the poor bastards was a photograph of some unknown landscape taken at some unknown location. Hell, it wasn't even a proper photo. It was a drawing that someone had pointed a camera at. The surveyors were bein' asked to find the exact spot shown with nothin' else to go on."

I swallowed. My throat was drier than a well in Corel.

"Rumor was that the president had some shady geomancer doin' the drawings." Klein laughed, a short, sharp exhale.

He grabbed the wine bottle and held it between his knees, hand tight around the glass neck like he was in his cockpit, gripping the cyclic.

"The surveyors themselves were a ragtag bunch. Men, women, troopers of all ages. Only thing they shared was a dream; this was their big shot to break free of a two-bit life.

"All they had to do was believe that the scenery in their pictures was truly out there, somewhere in the wide, wide world. And boy, did they. On the back of each photo was a set of coordinates. Not exact coordinates, mind. If Shinra knew where to find the places, why bother with the surveys? No, they were just a best guess provided by some glasses-wearin' desk jockey from HQ's upper stories."

Klein pulled back on his imaginary control stick.

"I lost count how many times I loaded up with a new set of hopefuls, flying 'em to spots all across the planet.

"No landings. That was understood. I wasn't about to risk losing my bird to a monster attack out in bumfuck nowhere. Or worse, to a stray squad of Wutai bastards. The surveyors wore chutes; when they were happy with the site, they jumped. They had ten days to scout out the area. On the eleventh, another chopper would be there with a rope to haul 'em up, if they showed."

Klein sighed. "The number of 'em I ever saw again... now that's one I can still count. Ain't none of 'em boastin' about some fountain of mako they found. Just haggard faces thankful to be home alive.

"As for the rest, well, these weren't friendly places. Plenty of monsters to do you in for."

He paused to take a swig of wine, seeming to forget that he'd just sent his imaginary copter spiraling out of control.

"Felt bad for the ones that didn't make it. I mean, I liked 'em all well enough. They had guts. Dreams. Wanted to make better lives for themselves. You don't see much of that in the city, and especially not up on the plate. Midgar wears you down. Makes you soft."

I swallowed again, throat still dry, and asked, "What kind of pic... What kind of photo did Glen have?"

The old pilot's eyes glazed over. "The only reason Glen Reiner stuck out to me was because of his photo. The night before we took off, he and I nearly came to blows about where I'd be flyin' him. As far as I saw it, his picture was some rocky bluff straight out of Cosmo Canyon."

"Cosmo Canyon?" I parroted, taken aback.

I knew the place, of course. It was a tiny settlement a continent away, perched among rocky, arid wastes that lay far to the west. They say Cosmo Canyon holds deep significance for planetologists.

"I had two drop-offs that day. The first one was headed to a spot just south of Fort Condor, after which I assumed I'd be droppin' Glen off in the vicinity of Cosmo.

"At the time, I was based outta Junon. I'd checked the charts and decided to hit up Fort Condor first. Smooth flight, smooth send-off. The first surveyor went out the side, and then it was just me 'n' Glen."

Klein paused to look me up and down, as if hesitating over whether to continue.

"The smug bastard leaned forward and handed me a sheaf of paper folded in half. I opened it to find a set of coordinates in Mideel, along with ten thousand gil, all in crisp notes."

He shook his head. "At that point, I figured why the hell not. If he wants to go on a wild chocobo chase and answer to the president for it when he returns, let him."

The wine bottle was now empty.

"Extraction was somebody else's problem. So to be honest, after I dropped Glen off, I forgot all about the guy and got on with my usual duties. Shinra had me flyin' cargo all over the planet. If it was inhabited, I'd been there.

"Imagine my surprise when I drop a shipment off at Mideel's clinic and find Glen in a hospital bed. Frankly, on the day of his jump, the guy acted like he'd never deployed a chute before. He pulled the cord so late, I half figured he ended up a red stain on the jungle floor. But there he was, alive and breathing, and that's somethin' to be thankful for, mako poisoning or not."

And yet you decided to sell the guy to Research and Development, I thought bitterly, but I held my tongue.

I pulled out the photo of Geddie: a young man of about twenty-five at the time, clad in a lab coat and possessing average, forgettable features.

"Just to be sure. Do you recognize the man on the right?"

"Sure. That's your Glen Reiner right there." Klein snorted. "Another one of them lab kooks, huh? Shoulda figured. Glen didn't seem the soldier type."

I left Klein in his cups. A deep sigh escaped me when I was out the door.

The photograph of Geddie was still in my hand; I stared at him, standing there in the past, smiling brightly in his white lab coat. Beside him was a nine-year-old boy. Me.

Shinra has housing scattered all across Midgar for its army. Most units are old and cramped, the smallest not much more than a broom closet with a bed for some young, single recruit. A spouse or a kid will get you a larger place, but it still ain't gonna be pretty to look at.

Meanwhile, the civvies have it good. Corporate employees get cozy little homes in perfectly planned suburbs. Suits before boots, I guess.

Anyway, Shinra brass must've been drowning in complaints, because at some point, they instituted a new program: any trooper, even a private straight out of basic, was eligible to apply for a spot in company housing. It was mostly lip service, of course. The odds of winning a spot were so low, you might as well play the slots and hope for a jackpot.

But it wasn't impossible. Silvina Kelly was one of those rare individuals to beat the odds.

My luck's not half bad either. I didn't land a spot in employee housing, but I did land Silvina.

When I got home that night, I found her at the sink, brushing her teeth.

"How'd it go?" she asked.

"Not bad. I think I made some serious headway."

"You did, huh? Well, now you've got me on the edge of my seat. Come on. Out with it."

"Ah, baby... You don't wanna hear this. It's not a story of blue skies and sunny days."

"I'll put up with a storm cloud or two on our way to a brighter future."

A brighter future. I sure hoped it would be. Maybe when all this was over, the nightmares would stop. I'd quit thrashing and yelling in my sleep, and Silvina would finally be able to get a good night's rest.

"All right. I guess I'd better start with Mideel then."

I stood at her back, my arms gently curled around her sides, hands cradling the swell of her belly. It wouldn't be long now. If I was serious about a future with these two, I needed to square away my past.

Silvina's big, round eyes held on mine in the bathroom mirror. They were full of laughter. God, she reminded me of Aerith. If Aerith were still alive out there, this was exactly how she'd look.

Aerith was a resilient child. That's what my mother said, anyway, and I think she was probably right.

Running around in those cramped living quarters, Aerith and I had our fair share of bumps and bruises. There was always an arm bashing the edge of the desk or a shin slamming against a corner of the couch. When the unlucky appendage was Aerith's, she never cried out in pain. Her smile would vanish, though, and that's how I'd know she was suffering. It was the same way she reacted whenever her mom was late coming back from the lab.

A few times, I saw her lose her cool. I remember her yelling at the door once, just after Geddie Bach had walked out.

"Stupid Geddie! I hate him!"

"Aerith, you mustn't say such things," Ifalna gently chided.

"But he does awful things to you! You came back bleeding today!"

Ifalna was bleeding; I had to give Aerith that. The elder Ancient had returned with white bandages about her wrists, already stained red where the fresh wounds were beginning to leak through. She often came back looking exhausted, but that day, her eyes seemed almost hollow.

"It's all Geddie's fault!" declared Aerith. "He did that to you!"

"I promise you, Geddie had nothing to do with this. He has no reason to hurt me."

"But every day, he's the one who comes to take you away!"

"Geddie's just doing his job," I said, with the kind of confidence only a nine-year-old can muster. "If he weren't here, it'd be somebody else showing up at the door each morning."

"But... !"

Aerith cut her own protest short, diving facedown onto the couch and burying her head in the cushions. My own mom sighed, figuring this argument for a lost cause.

"Ifalna," she ventured, "our shift's almost over, but... if you'd like us to stay and look after you, we'd be happy to do so."

Ifalna flashed a weak smile. "That's very kind of you. But I'll be fine."

"All right... We'll see you tomorrow, then. Aerith, I hope you'll be in a better mood come morning."

Aerith didn't reply. As Mom and I filed out of the room, I glanced back to find the girl's head raised from the cushions, watching us go. She silently scrunched up her nose, puffed her cheeks, and stuck her tongue out.

At the time, you couldn't have dragged the words out of me, but I was smitten. To me, Aerith was one in a billion. My first brush with love.

The corridor outside their room turned an abrupt corner, beyond which we found Geddie at his plain, unassuming desk. When he wasn't escorting Ifalna to and from the research lab each day, that's where he stood, carefully noting the comings and goings of anyone in contact with the two Ancients. Geddie wore a white lab coat, just like everyone else on the floor who wasn't a soldier, but Geddie was no scientist. He was an ordinary guy hired to do an ordinary job for Shinra's Research and Development Division, just like Mom and me.

He greeted us casually and asked, "Heading home?"

I replied first. "Yeah."

Geddie was a decent enough guy. I had nothing against him. At the moment, he was a glorified doorman, but from the way he talked, you could tell he had his sights set higher. Mom liked to say he was a real go-getter, and that I could learn a thing or two from him.

"Welp, work's gonna be real fun tomorrow," complained Geddie. "Think Aerith's gonna yell at me again, or am I in for the silent treatment?"

"Just part of the job," sighed Mom. From the way she said it, I could tell the reassurance was meant for her own sake as much as Geddie's.

"What makes it especially hard," replied Geddie, "is the fact that she's so darn cute."

He winked at me. I kept my mouth shut, praying no shift in my expression had given me away.

Mom glanced over with a little smile, too, but when she spoke again, it was to Geddie. "I feel for the girl. Of course she's going to lash out. Her mother's coming home in bandages, for goodness' sake. Honestly, I'm starting to wonder what in the world is going on in that lab of theirs."

"Don't ask me. You know how it is around here. Even if I knew, I wouldn't be able to tell ya." Geddie let out a small sigh. "The lab assistants are getting squeamish, though. They seem to think Professor Hojo's going too far."

Everybody even remotely involved with the lab knew who Hojo was. The man ran Shinra R & D. I'd encountered him two times in my stint as Aerith's playmate. I prayed there wouldn't be a third.

"Anyway," continued Geddie, "that's not even my biggest problem right now. There's this friend I grew up with, see? He enlisted in the army, while I came to work here in R & D. But get this: the other day, he tells me he's being promoted. A big bump in rank and pay, and all he had to do was sign up for some special, hush-hush operation. I mean, how unfair is that? I'm practically beating myself up for not deciding to enlist too."

"Military life is hard," counseled Mom. "Be thankful you've got a nice, quiet job right where you are."

"You make it sound like I don't want to work hard," grumbled Geddie.

"I'm sorry. That's not what I meant."

"Look... if you hear about any good openings, would you let me know? Shinra or otherwise. At this point, I'm willing to look outside the company if it'll kick my career into high gear."

"Nothing wrong with transferring to another division. But stick with the company, Geddie." It was the same advice I'd heard from Mom a million times before. "You're better off working for Shinra than somewhere else, 'cause at the end of the day, Shinra controls the world."

Silvina lay facing me on the bed, fast asleep. I listened to her gentle snores and reached a careful hand to her belly. Inside was my baby. Our baby. The three of us were connected via the lifestream, bonded to one another for eternity as mother, father, and child.

I'd do whatever needed to be done to make sure those bonds were pure. I wanted us to start fresh, with nothing dragging us down.

I awoke with a new line of attack in mind. I wanted to get started immediately, but Silvina made me sit and eat, saying it wasn't an appropriate hour to go paying house calls. From the way the hands on our clock crawled 'round, I would've sworn the damn thing was busted. Finally, they read nine, and I shot off to see Jack Klein once more.

The corner shop wasn't open, so this time cash had to suffice. Klein snatched the bills from my hand, and I had a name: Joann Liu.

Another quick stop by HQ netted me an address. I thanked my lucky stars and paid off my contact. I was about to meet the other survey member from that day fifteen years ago─the one who'd hitched a ride to Fort Condor alongside Glen Reiner, aka Geddie Bach.

Liu lived in officer housing─fairly plush, at least by military standards. She was a short-statured woman of about forty, with a physique that made it plain she didn't skimp on PT. If I had to guess, she was the type who was strict with herself and stricter with everyone else.

She wasn't gonna answer any questions until she had my rank and station. Her voice was sharp, like a needle on my eardrum.

"You're not a Turk, are you?" she demanded.

It struck me as a strange thing to ask. Her eyes regarded me with quiet suspicion, and I realized that if I wanted anything out of this encounter, I was gonna have to share some details. I hesitated, unsure where to begin or how much rope to let out. If I gave away too much, the whole investigation could blow up in my face.

I decided the key points to keep quiet on were Aerith and Ifalna. My time with the Ancients was a secret I'd probably be taking to the grave. Mom had made me swear not to talk about it. Hell, I hadn't even told Silvina about that part of my life.

"It's completely personal," I assured Liu. "Something for my own peace of mind. Nobody else has to hear about it."

It was just a bit of baggage I needed to clear up before my kid was born─and that meant the clock was ticking. I explained that there was a guy who'd looked out for me when I was young. He'd vanished, and when I tried to look him up as an adult, I was told he'd died fifteen years ago. But when I asked how, nobody could give me a straight answer. So now I was trying to track down people he'd known, to see what they could tell me.

"His name was Glen Reiner," I said, holding out the photo of Geddie Bach. "This is him before he died."

When Liu displayed no sign of recognition, I continued with my story, pretending not to notice.

"You knew Glen, didn't you?"

She didn't answer, so I fed another coil.

"Fifteen years ago," I repeated. "The Special Geological Survey Initiative. A chance for the bravest of the brave to make a name for themselves. The day Glen Reiner shipped out, there were three people aboard the chopper: Glen, the pilot, and─"

"And me."

Liu gave a quiet snort and flumped down on her couch. I looked around but didn't see any options for me to sit.

"The pilot's name is Jack Klein," I said, continuing the tale that had led me to her. "He told me you and Glen seemed pretty chummy that day in the chopper."

Liu snorted again. It seemed to be a habit of hers.

"And let me guess," she said. "The kid in the photo is you?"

"That's right."

"Then I expect you probably know that the guy you're standing by is named Geddie, not Glen."

"... Yeah. I do."

"You gave his name as Glen when you showed me the photo 'cause you wanted to see how I'd react."

"You got me."

"Hmph. Well, you're gonna have to start by telling me just how much you know about─"

The tail end of her demand was cut off by a bang against the wall at her back, loud enough to make me jump. Someone had either slammed a fist against the wall or rammed the other side. Liu, however, didn't even flinch.

The apartment's front door opened directly into the living room. That was where we were sitting... or where one of us was sitting, anyway. Off to the right was a small kitchen, complete with a dining table for two. I saw a couple other doors: one to my left and another straight ahead. Most likely, they each led to a bedroom.

Bang. Another one. The noises were coming from the bedroom at Liu's back. Someone was in there.

"Settle down, Lilisa," Liu said, her voice not unkind.

Lilisa ...

Lilisa ...

I knew that name. I wasn't sure from where or when, but I did. I worked my way back through my memory logically, methodically, until a cold, sinking feeling told me that my subconscious already had the answer.

This was a name I didn't want to remember.

I'd been handed a trace of my past that I normally kept locked in a drawer in a dusty corner of the far reaches of my mind. Worse, the damn thing was as fresh and vivid as the day I sealed it away.

We were in Aerith's room. Normally, Mom would've been there too. But at that particular moment, it was just Aerith and me.

Aerith had set down her paintbrush and was slumped listlessly in her seat. She didn't seem in the mood to talk, so I let her be. I was more worried about Mom, anyway. One of R & D's specimens had escaped from its cell, and Mom had been ordered to assist in the search.

"I'm sick of drawing," complained Aerith.

"I know."

You've said it a million times, I thought.

Looking back, I should've shown some sympathy. But at the time, I was just a kid.

I did manage a little encouragement, in my own way.

"Geddie will find a way to help. We just have to be patient."

Two weeks had passed since I slipped Geddie the special drawing. I'd expected things to escalate quickly, but the days dragged on as usual. The only difference was that Geddie wasn't at his desk anymore, and the other lab assistants had begun taking turns ferrying Ifalna to and from her quarters.

"You're right," said Aerith. "Sorry."

She'd picked up on my irritation, and now I had her walking on eggshells. I felt like an asshole.

The door opened, just enough for one of the lab assistants to poke her head through. This one was young and fairly new.

"Have you finished drawing?" she asked.

"She's working on it," I insisted, suddenly protective of Aerith. "It's not some stupid doodle she can finish in a few minutes. Give her some space, would you?!"

The lab assistant scowled and stormed into the room, leaving the door wide open behind her. All I could think about was the specimen on the loose.

"Close the door!" I screamed.

But it was too late.

A black shadow burst in, shoving past the white-coated lab assistant, who toppled to the floor with an astonished cry.

My eyes locked on the shadow. I was the only thing standing between it and Aerith. Except, I wasn't holding my ground out of bravery. I was just too damn scared to move.

The shadow, I quickly realized, was actually a woman. She was clad in some sort of black robe, and her eyes darted furiously about the room. When they landed on Aerith, she let out a shriek and pounced. White knight that I wasn't, I dove the hell out of the way.

"You!" the woman screeched. "You're Aerith! You're the reason he's dead! Do you have any idea how many people you've sent to die?! It's all because of you and your pictures!"

Hate and fear filled the intruder's crazed eyes. Her pale hands locked tight around the seven-year-old girl's delicate neck, and all I could do was watch. I thought for sure this was it. Aerith was going to die.

In the end, the encounter wasn't nearly so final.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the lab assistant struggle to her feet. She fished a syringe from her pocket and jabbed it into the crazed woman's neck, where it remained lodged like a dagger. The robed woman shrieked again, but her knuckles loosened and her arms fell slack, and then she was slumping forward, pinning Aerith against the wall with her weight. Aerith's eyes, big and round and full of terror, locked on mine. I cast my own gaze downward, unable to bear the shame of my cowardice.

I found myself looking at the intruder's feet. The hem of her robe was frayed to shreds, leaving bare her sickly, waxlike skin. Near her ankle, I spotted a tattoo scrawled in black ink.

24.

The lab assistant shot a glance up to a security camera installed in one corner of the room.

"I need a team in here!" she shouted. "Lilisa's been subdued! Get her back to her cell!"

Another bang sounded on the other side of the living room wall.

Liu shook her head. She leaned close to the wall, shouted, "Quiet, Lilisa!" and settled back down on the couch with closed eyes.

"Lilisa and I went through basic together at the tender, stupid age of nineteen. Back then, she wasn't like that. I mean, she didn't talk much, but it wasn't because she couldn't. She was just shy.

"Mako poisoning," Liu continued, eyes still shut tight. "That's what changed her. R & D put her in a hospital bed and helped her past the worst of it, but... Well, let's just say there's been a lot of banging on the walls these past fifteen years."

A low, animalistic wail had begun shortly after Liu's sharp admonishment, and it crescendoed now into an almost human sob.

Liu sighed. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, knowing there's someone else out there who's heard my side of the story."

Her eyes snapped back open and locked on to mine.

"And I figure there might be a few pieces to this puzzle that you can fill in."

Joann Liu and Lilisa Meg entered service on the same day─as did one Glen Reiner. The three trained together as new recruits, but that wasn't the only thing they had in common. They'd also all grown up in the slums.

That final point caught all of them more shit than they deserved, but Lilisa had it especially hard. Whenever she screwed up during training, a certain instructor liked to chalk it up to her background. One day, she returned to the barracks still fuming. Anger trumped good sense, and she stormed back out to confront the instructor, only to find Glen already in the guy's office, protesting the treatment of his fellow soldier.

From that day on, Joann, Lilisa, and Glen were fast friends, spending most of their free time together.

Enter Geddie Bach.

Geddie, it turned out, was close with Glen; they'd been neighbors growing up. Glen began inviting his old buddy to hang out with his new friends, and pretty soon, the little trio had a regular fourth. That was how the three recruits and one Shinra R & D employee ended up spending nights and weekends together, cooking meals, drinking, and talking of their dreams for the future.

When Joann dreamed, she dreamed big. Right from the start, her sights were set on brass, and a salary to match. Someday, she'd remark with a laugh, she was gonna be issuing orders to Heidegger himself. It was half a joke and half not.

Glen was just as ambitious. Every time Joann talked of a future glory, he was right there to claim he'd accomplish as much and more.

Their brash initiative seemed to spur Geddie on too. He began to speak of promotions and real responsibility at work, and of learning to play office politics so he could get ahead.

Lilisa, on the other hand, was content simply to wear a uniform. She'd come from a particularly poor background even among grounders, and life was grand enough now that she had no need to worry about food in her belly or a roof overhead.

When word spread about opportunities to be had in a brand-new unit reporting directly to the president, Joann could barely contain her excitement. A lack of upfront details about the so-called Special Geological Survey Initiative did sprout some concern, as did the alarmingly generous rewards and the consequent risk they implied. But in the end, her wildfire ambition razed a path straight to the sign-up desk.

She arrived to find Glen already handing in his application. The two shared a laugh; they'd both thought themselves very cunning, never mentioning any interest in the program among their little foursome of friends. But given Joann and Glen's professional drive, they'd always been bound to sign up.

They were both accepted, as well. Then came the waiting. They could ship out at any time, they were told. They were to be prepared to drop everything and go at a moment's notice.

Joann redoubled her training, adopting a strict regimen from sunup to sundown, though still allowing herself to enjoy the company of her friends in the evenings. Glen was always there to share a drink and a bite to eat; sometimes Geddie or Lilisa joined in, too, and occasionally both were there, bringing the old group together just like before.

Finally, the call arrived for both Joann and Glen: they'd be shipping out the following morning.

In the meantime, they were expected at Shinra HQ, where a rally was to be held for all surveyors about to depart.

When President Shinra himself stood to address the surveyors, Joann had stars in her eyes. The initiative was no longer just a way to get ahead in life. She was among the few and the proud: a select group whose efforts would reshape civilization as we know it.

Joann wasn't the only one. By the time the president's address was over, the whole crowd was swept up, fully committed to the mission that lay ahead.

In filed the Turks, handing out small, ten-centimeter-square photographs, one per surveyor.

When Joann received hers, she studied it for a long, quiet moment. It was a very peculiar thing; as far as she could tell, it was a photograph of a painted landscape. On the back of the photo was a handwritten set of coordinates.

Those coordinates, President Shinra explained, indicated the individual surveyor's mission site. Each surveyor was to be transported to the listed coordinates by chopper, at which point they'd parachute in and attempt to find the precise location depicted in the photograph. They'd have ten days to do so, after which they were to rendezvous for extraction at the drop site.

Discovery of the location in question was worth 50 percent of the purse advertised at sign-up. If the location proved to be a suitable site for construction of a mako reactor, the full 100 percent was to be awarded. And if the site was exceptionally rich─a trove of mako the likes of which President Shinra had long dreamt to find─the payout jumped to 220 percent. That's the kind of money you could live out the rest of your days on, never having to lift a finger again.

Honestly, the atmosphere of the meeting was such that the surveyors would've geared up right then and there, even sans any promise of gil. Glory to the company and all that jazz. That's how worked up President Shinra had them. They sure as hell weren't in any state to be making rational decisions.

In any case, once the rally was over, there was another, more personal party waiting. Lilisa had had the day off, and she spent it in her apartment cooking up a half-dozen mouthwatering dishes, planning to hold a little send-off for her friends. Joann was the first to arrive, followed by Glen, who brought Geddie along to complete the usual group.

Soon the drinks were flowing and everyone was having a good time, reminiscing about times past and letting imaginations run wild about the adventures ahead. The mood was light and happy, a lot like a birthday party. At least, that's how it was until Lilisa got a little too tipsy and burst into tears.

"Please don't go," she begged Glen in particular. "Something awful is going to happen. I just know it. You have to stay."

She clasped his hands in hers and added, "I'm in love with you."

The abrupt confession stunned Joann at least as much as Glen.

When Glen finally regained his composure, he tried to talk her down. "It's all right," he said. "I'll be back. I promise." As he spoke, he eyed Joann and Geddie, desperate for help.

Joann announced, "I think I've had one too many," and headed out to get some air. She was all too happy to exit the awkward scene─not least because she wanted to avoid starting another of her own. In Joann's eyes, Lilisa had crossed a line. The four were friends, but the scope of that friendship fell well short of interfering with one another's dreams. Glen was aiming high, chasing bigger things. Lilisa had no right to hold him back.

That said, it was a conversation she and Lilisa could have later in private. No reason to ruin the party and spoil everyone's last night together.

Joann stationed herself at one end of the foyer running the length of the barracks, where she stared out a partially open window at the giant plume of smoke rising from the nearest reactor. Cool evening air blew in, a welcome change from the stuffy atmosphere left behind.

She couldn't have said how long she'd been standing there when she heard Geddie's hoarse, panicked cry calling her back. When she turned, her blood chilled. Geddie lay facedown on the threshold, body halfway out in the foyer. When she rushed over to check on him, she saw the short, sharp tremors running through his body. It was some kind of seizure.

"Geddie?!" she cried. "Answer me!"

She hadn't recognized why he was shaking, but she knew it was bad. Her next thoughts were of their two other friends still inside, but training kicked in and she doubled back first, pounding on the door of a neighbor, who only needed one glance at Geddie before he ran to find a medic.

When Joann finally made it back inside the apartment, she was hit by the stench of vomit and worse. Glen and Lilisa lay facedown in their own filth, exhibiting the same short, sharp spasms as Geddie. She called their names and shook their shoulders but got no response.

Joann was on the verge of panic when she heard a weak, shaky voice at her back.

"Lilisa... She..."

Geddie had pulled himself to his feet. He stood with one shoulder leaning heavy against the doorframe.

"She must've... slipped something into the food."

The warning out, he collapsed once more. Still, for Geddie at least, the spasms seemed to have passed.

It was ages before the medic arrived. When he did show up, Joann recognized him as another recent recruit stationed in the same barracks. He was young, but he moved quickly and confidently, first checking on Glen and Lilisa, who were now unconscious. Geddie, though weak, seemed to be recovering. The medic didn't share his diagnosis aloud, but Joann overheard him asking to be put in immediate touch with the Research and Development Division at HQ.

From there, things moved fast, and the details were hazy. A whole crew of men and women in white coats had descended upon the apartment within a matter of minutes. The first ones to arrive carried Glen, Lilisa, and Geddie off on stretchers. The researchers left behind divvied up the apartment, cleaning up the vomit and examining the half-empty beer bottles and half-eaten plates of food. Everything was tested on the spot, systematically, with some kind of reagent.

"Got a positive over here," she heard a man say, clearly not pleased by the discovery. "Mako. Just as we feared."

That particular researcher had been in the kitchen, testing food in one of the serving dishes.

Joann spent the next hour and change in the hot seat, interrogated first by the R & D scientists on the scene and then by damn near half her chain of command once they'd caught wind of the hubbub.

Was the mako introduced into the food by accident, or was it put there intentionally? If the former, whose fuckup was it? If the latter, what was the agenda? No details were shared with Joann about whether her friends were all right. It was just one rapid-fire question after another about the mako and how it got there, questions Joann was unable to answer.

At long last, another trooper arrived with orders from higher up, and then all the researchers and corps were filing out of the apartment, leaving Joann alone and bewildered in a room that now reeked of skunked beer and spoiled casserole on top of everything else.

Geddie's words echoed in her skull. She tried to make sense of the claim. Had Lilisa poisoned the food to try and keep Glen from leaving? Was Lilisa capable of that sort of thing? Joann didn't want to believe it, but love could drive a person to do crazy things.

When Geddie finally returned to the barracks, it was close to midnight. The Shinra scientists had him on a cocktail of drugs that seemed to be doing the job; he claimed to be feeling a lot better.

"They tell me my symptoms were pretty mild. I'm still a little nauseous, but I think I'm gonna be all right."

"What about Glen and Lilisa?" she asked.

Geddie's eyes fell. "The doctors can't get them stable. When we were on the stretchers, I could hear the lab assistants calling out their names, but neither of them was responding."

"Geddie... I need to know. What happened after I left the room?"

"After you left..." He hesitated, his brow now furrowed. "I remember hearing the oven timer go off. Lilisa had mentioned she had a casserole cooking. But the ringing didn't even seem to register in her mind. She was too focused on Glen, begging him over and over not to go.

"Glen was desperate to change the subject. He said he was dying to try the casserole, but Lilisa wasn't going to budge. I was afraid the thing was going to burn, so I went to the kitchen to take it out. I brought it out to the table, and Glen sat down right next to me, scooping up a big helping. The casserole was still bubbling, but he was shoving mouthful after mouthful down his throat, saying it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. That seemed to improve Lilisa's mood, and she grabbed a bowlful herself.

"I've got a tongue that'll burn on warm milk, so I didn't start eating until a few minutes later. By the time they were showing symptoms, I'd only had a few bites. I guess that's why I got off easy."

Geddie paused before adding, "It was a damn good casserole. Would've never guessed there was mako in it..."

"You're certain it was the casserole?"

"Well, that's the only thing we ate that you didn't, right?"

"Tell me," said Liu, "you ever heard of mako slag?"

"Of course."

It was a term for the residue that built up when a mako-driven internal combustion engine failed to completely burn its fuel. The stuff could hang around in a vehicle's internals for weeks, a toxic surprise for anyone stupid enough to start poking around in the engine compartment without protective gear.

"Lilisa was posted to the army's mobile infantry division. She was mostly in charge of maintenance and repairs."

Liu raised an eyebrow at me as if to say, You see where I'm going with this?

She hopped up from the couch and walked to the kitchen, where I heard her pour herself a glass of water. When she came back to the living room, she sank back into her seat.

"There's still one thing I don't get," I said. "How did Geddie end up as part of the Special Geological Survey Initiative? You two shipped out the morning after all this went down."

Liu nodded.

"Oh, it was a flagrant breach of regulations. If word of what he and I arranged ever leaked─even now, fifteen years on─they'd knock me out on my ass faster than you can say ‘court-martial.' And yet here I am, sharing all the details with a total stranger."

"I won't tell another soul."

"I know ya won't. Not that I'd really give a damn if you did. My heart doesn't belong to the military. I'm only here for the money, and I've been thinking for a while now that maybe it's time for me to get back to the slums."

"I'm not sure what you're getting at."

"This is a calculated risk. After I'm done scratching your back, I'm hoping you'll scratch mine. Something tells me you'll be able to answer a few questions that have bothered me ever since this went down."

"I'll tell you everything I know," I replied immediately. Maybe too quickly, even. I was scared to death she'd see right through me.

Liu turned to look at the door leading to Lilisa's room. She stared at it pensively for a time, then gave a thoughtful nod.

"That night, after Geddie got back, he told me he didn't want Glen to lose his one big shot. If Glen wasn't gonna be able to go on his survey op, then Geddie was determined to go in his place. He'd come back successful and share the news with Glen to help spur his friend's recovery.

"Geddie was so committed to the idea, he'd even slipped into Glen's hospital room to lift the dog tags from his neck. He showed them to me, so I knew it was true. The only problem, Geddie said, was that he needed me to back up his story. My help was crucial if he was going to pass as Glen from the time we shipped out to the moment he jumped.

"Now, you tell me, how the hell would you feel hearing something like that?"

"Couldn't say. I guess my first reaction would be to wonder if Geddie's up to the task. He was no soldier. He was going in blind, without a lick of training."

In truth, I'd have had a few choice words to share with anybody trying to turn a close friend's death to their own benefit. But I didn't say as much to Liu. And it was good I didn't, because Liu's reaction sure as hell wasn't the one I would've predicted.

"I was moved half to tears, goddammit," she said. "It was the most noble, selfless display of friendship I think I've ever seen. Geddie was ready to put everything on the line just to keep Glen's dream alive."

Of course, when I took a moment to reflect on it, it made sense. If Liu had felt otherwise, she wouldn't have gone along with Geddie's story. And if she hadn't helped Geddie, we wouldn't be in her living room talking it over.

"Geddie's one lucky bastard," she added. "We found Glen's pack still in his room, untouched by R & D, with the photograph he was assigned tucked safely in one pocket."

Members of the Special Geological Survey Initiative were to assemble for departure just outside Shinra HQ, in Sector 0. Hoping to avoid any encounters that could expose their scheme, Joann and Geddie (posing as Glen) waited until the last possible second to show up. They slipped onto the back of a truck driven by a fresh-faced trooper who looked about as clueless as they come. Four other surveyors were aboard the truck, but through a stroke of good luck, none of them had ever met Joann or Glen.

After a smooth ride to the heliport, Joann, Geddie, and the others all piled aboard Jack Klein's bird for a transit flight to Junon. Once there, the other four disembarked, heading to other helicopters with flight paths plotted out to get everyone to their drop coordinates as efficiently as possible. Only Joann and Geddie remained aboard Klein's craft.

During the flights, the two had their helmets on, making it easy enough to obscure Geddie's identity. They made a show of friendly, familiar banter in front of the pilot, and Joann spent a good portion of the flight sharing "expert tips" for a truly flawless parajump. The explanation conveniently included exaggerated descriptions of absolute basics like how to put the chute on and where to find the cord. Geddie hadn't even laid eyes on a parachute outside of a book, but he still managed to whisk Joann's concerns away with his determination and passion for the mission ahead.

And then they'd reached the drop site south of Fort Condor, and Joann had made her jump. For her, that's where the story of Geddie Bach went blank.

"Now it's your turn," she said to me.

"All right."

I got right into it, sharing the details of the remainder of Geddie's flight exactly as relayed by Klein. I figured there wasn't anything in there that needed to stay secret from Liu. I explained how Geddie begged Klein to take him to a different destination. How he'd waited until he was alone with the pilot to offer the bribe.

In the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if Geddie had found himself assigned to a different pilot that day. Would he have bribed someone else as easily as Klein? It was hard to say. Maybe Geddie was prepared to resort to other methods if tossing gil didn't suffice.

"But in the end," said Liu, "Geddie didn't find anything at all, did he? I heard he was extracted from Mideel with a bad case of mako poisoning."

"Yeah. Klein handed him over to R & D for... treatment."

"Pretty ironic that he'd meet the same fate as Glen."

"Tell me," I said. "Whatever happened to Glen? The real Glen."

Liu was quick to oblige. "Among the surveyors, I was one of the lucky ones. I didn't find the spot in my photo, sure, but I did come back alive and healthy.

"About two weeks after I got home, Lilisa was discharged from R & D's care. A couple of Turks brought her over to my place, probably 'cause they didn't have anywhere else to take her. The way they told it, she'd had a real bad case of mako poisoning. Lilisa had eventually regained the ability to walk, but R & D said not to expect much more of a recovery than that.

"When I asked the Turks about Glen, they filled me in on what happened. R & D had tried everything they could. Apparently, Professor Hojo himself stepped in to oversee treatment near the end. But it just wasn't enough.

"So Glen was dead, and now the Turks were asking me if I was willing to square things away for both him and Lilisa. I figured it was the least I could do for a couple of good friends. I cleaned out their apartments, threw out what I could, and hung on to a few personal effects.

"Lilisa's parents had already passed, so there wasn't anyone for me to notify. As for Glen's, they didn't say much when I gave them the news. His mom and dad seemed to have made peace with the possibility already. Their boy was a trooper, and the country was at war."

"Hang on," I interrupted. "You told them he died in combat?"

"That was the standard line for anyone who didn't make it back from a Special Geological Survey op. If anything, it was better for the surviving family. It meant they'd be eligible to collect benefits."

"But that didn't apply for Geddie."

"As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Geddie vanished into thin air. And as I understood it, his only living relative was his mother. His father had already passed away."

"I see..."

Liu loudly slapped both palms against her thighs and announced, "Well, that does it for my side of the story. Now it's time for you to hold up your end of the bargain. I've got questions, and my gut tells me you've got answers."

I didn't recall promising Liu anything, but I waited to hear what she had to say.

"The day of our flight, Glen was supposed to drop just outside Cosmo Canyon. I saw his photo. Those were the coordinates he was assigned. But you say Geddie convinced the pilot to change course for Mideel.

"Why? Did Geddie have a second photo? Or some kinda tip? What had him so convinced he'd find an assload of mako in Mideel... ?"

Liu was posing questions, but they were directed as much to herself as to me. I could tell she was still sorting though possibilities, thinking out loud.

"And if he did have solid intel suggesting a site in Mideel," she continued, "where did he get it?

"Hell, what was with that intel in the first place? Why were the Turks handing out photos of drawings? Where did they come from? Who made 'em? What possessed President Shinra to base an entire operation around a bunch of artwork?"

I excused myself to use the restroom, closed the door, and quietly slipped out the window.

Aerith and Ifalna lived in a room in Shinra HQ, somewhere among the upper stories. I never learned which exact floor. Mom told me we weren't allowed to know, and I had no reason to question it.

My eyes and ears were open, though, just like any kid. I saw how the place was constantly swarming with men and women in white lab coats, their eyes bloodshot and their feet stumbling as they went about their duties on the brink of exhaustion. Geddie once told me the entire operation might as well have been running on zero sleep. There were troopers too─not armed to the teeth, but there all the same. Geddie said they were there for our protection, and I believed it. The adjacent floors housed Shinra R & D's ever-rotating menagerie of monsters, and to no one's great surprise, monsters tend not to be in the best moods when they're poked and prodded for days on end. Occasionally, one or another would lash out violently enough to break free of its confines, and then our whole section of the building would go on lockdown. Needless to say, there was always a certain tension in the air.

Mom was in charge of tending to the daily needs of Ifalna and her daughter. She'd been chosen for the job partly because of me: I was the right age to make a good playmate for Aerith. Mom didn't tell me until years later, when I was old enough to handle the money responsibly, but Shinra had even been paying me a bit for the trouble.

Every morning at ten, Geddie showed up to escort Ifalna to the lab. While she was away, it was Mom's responsibility to clean the room and take care of the laundry, and mine to keep Aerith occupied.

I wasn't complaining. There were worse ways to spend the day as a kid. Aerith and I would show off stupid little dances we'd made up the night before or just run in circles around the room. Aerith loved playing hide-and-seek, despite the fact that there are only so many places you can hide when you're stuck between four walls. We added an extra rule that whoever was hiding could make a funny face when found; if you could make the seeker laugh, it didn't count that you'd been discovered, so you still won that round. I dunno if you can still call it hide-and-seek at that point, but it was easy enough to play, which made it a pretty good standby when we couldn't think of anything else to do.

Aerith's usual spot was behind the couch. She'd lie on the ground faceup, like a doll accidentally left behind by a busy toddler. Her eyes would be wide open, rolled up and to the side, with her tongue sticking out in the opposite direction. I must've seen that face a million times, but it never failed to get a laugh out of me. And when I laughed, Aerith laughed too.

That's the kind of girl she was: sweet and innocent, always smiling, never weighed down by the reality of her circumstances.

At least, that's how she was before the drawing began.

I remember it like it was yesterday. We were taking a break from the billionth round of hide-and-seek, and Aerith was doubled over giggling because of some vapid story Mom was sharing: an extremely overexaggerated tale of how I once came across a monster near home and carefully backed away. The way Mom told it, I bolted from the scene like I was scared for my life, and I'd been moving about five times faster than she'd ever seen me run before.

"Wow! Five times faster!" exclaimed Aerith. "Your legs must've been moving so fast, I bet they got all tangled up! Am I right?!"

I rolled my eyes and was about to respond, That's what you got out of the story?

But before I could, Aerith was on her feet, furiously pumping her legs in place and asking, "Like this? Am I close?"

"Triple that, and you'd almost have it."

Normally, I wouldn't encourage Mom's ridiculous embellishments, but when I saw how much Aerith was enjoying the story, I decided to go along with it.

After another few seconds of running in place, Aerith abruptly froze and turned to stare at me wide-eyed.

"What kind of monster was it?" she asked. "A bomb? A cactuar? A goblin?"

Aerith began listing off every monster she'd ever heard of.

"It wasn't anything cool like that, all right?" I snapped, my irritation back in full force. "It was like... like a wererat, but shrunk down in size."

"That's just a normal rat!"

"It was a monster, okay?!"

"How do you know for sure? What about it was different from a regular rat?"

"Its tail was at least twice as long as a normal rat's. And the end was all coiled up like a corkscrew."

Now I was just winging it.

"What's a corkscrew?"

"That thing for opening bottles. It's all twisty and stuff. You know, a corkscrew."

I drew loops in the air with my finger.

"No?"

"Oh, geez. Um..."

I scanned the room for a piece of string, figuring I could wrap it around my finger or something.

Mom smiled and announced, "Hang on. I'll be right back."

She popped out of the room and returned shortly. Except, instead of a piece of string, she came back with a notepad and a pen.

"Go on," she urged. "Let's see this rat of yours, corkscrew tail and all."

I was in too deep to back out now, so I snatched the pen and pad from Mom's hands and took a seat at the desk, where I began sketching out my giant, imaginary rat, whose tale was now five times more twisted than its supposed tail.

"Kinda like this," I said, presenting my creation to Aerith.

"Ooh... !"

She stared at my drawing intently. Too intently. I mean, calling it a drawing was being generous. It was more or less a circle with five lines for legs and a tail.

"Hang on," I said. "I can do better."

I flipped to a new page and started over. I hadn't been expecting her to take it so seriously.

But Aerith's second reaction was even worse than her first.

"Grrr..."

It was like a low growl. The kind of thing you'd hear from an angry lion. Without any warning, she leaned in close and yanked the pen and pad from my hands.

"Hey!" I blurted out, half-angry and half-confused.

But Aerith's mind was already a million miles away. The pen swiped one anxious, precise stroke after another, all across the page, point pressed so hard the whole pad buckled.

I saw a person's face. And then trees, and flowers. Animals, or maybe monsters. I wasn't sure. Mom and I looked on in silent awe. Aerith kept adding one object after another, until the surface was more ink than paper.

"Ngh!"

Aerith let out a grunt. She seemed to be in pain, but she didn't stop drawing. As far as I could tell, she couldn't.

My mother glanced up at one corner of the room.

"Emergency," she said, voice quavering. "We need assistance. Now, please!"

That was how I first learned of the surveillance cameras that were watching Aerith's and Ifalna's every move, day and night.

A moment later, Geddie burst into the room, along with a whole gaggle of white-coated lab assistants. Last to enter was Professor Hojo. He proceeded immediately to Aerith's side and peered intently at the picture, ignoring the girl completely. Aerith's eyes remained fixed on the page. The pen kept moving. To me, it looked like she'd been possessed.

"What is it, my dear?" cooed Professor Hojo. "Do you see something? Some image inside your mind?"

The girl nodded.

"Yes," she said. "I... I can see it. And hear it too. There's a roaring, like... like a rainstorm or a great big river."

Professor Hojo chuckled softly─a creepy, mad-scientist sort of chuckle. I didn't like where any of this was going.

"Aerith," he said. "You've awakened."

He continued to chuckle.

Mom's face had gone pale. "I'm so sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen..."

Looking back, I don't think it was me she was apologizing to.

The string of days I'd taken off to wrap up my past were all used up. I was back to real life, working nights like always. I'd finished one particularly tiring shift and was making my way home in the morning, feeling like a salmon returning to spawn as I fought against the surging current of nine-to-fives.

When I got to the house I shared with Silvina, Joann Liu was standing outside.

"If I'd known you had a broad in there, I would've waited for you outside work," she said. "C'mon. We're goin' for a walk in the slums."

I could tell she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"How'd you find my place?" I asked, hurrying to keep pace. Her brisk gait surprised me, given her short stature.

"Same way you found mine. I gotta admit, I was surprised to see just how much info the company keeps on us─and how much of it is up for grabs for anyone willing to flash a few gil." She chuckled. I sensed a warmth in her demeanor that wasn't there during our initial encounter.

"There's something different about you today," I remarked.

"Yeah. You're probably right. I took some time to think about our conversation. I decided maybe it's all right for me to have hope."

She smiled and added, "It's been a long time since I felt this free. And I owe that to you."

I wasn't sure how to respond, so I didn't.

"What I mean is, I saw you trying to come to terms with your past, and I decided maybe there's something to that."

Liu turned a sharp corner. Now we were on the street leading to the station. I had to concentrate just to keep up with her.

"Glad I could help," I said. "I'd been feeling kinda bad about the way I skipped out on you."

"You should feel bad. I bared my soul back there, you know? Gave you the whole truth, but you didn't even have the balls to answer a few questions."

"Sorry."

"I'm not here for an apology. I came for answers." Her voice was stern now. The smiles and laughter were long gone. "Where'd Geddie get his photo of Mideel?" she asked. "And who was drawing those pictures? I know it won't change anything now, but I gotta hear it, for my own peace of mind. And don't worry. I'll take it to my grave."

I kept my mouth shut, following Liu in silence. A minute or so later, we were at the station, where I was in for another surprise: Lilisa was there, standing in a corner near the gates. She weaved unsteadily from side to side, and passersby shot her cold, cautious glances.

"There's one little detail I didn't share with you yesterday," Liu said. "About the present day, that is. Lilisa and I take a lot of trips to the slums."

I was starting to think that every time this woman opened her mouth, I was racking up a debt that was going to be real hell to pay off.

Liu and I sat beside each other on a bench in the train car. Most of the other seats were full, too, but the only passenger standing in the aisle was Lilisa. I figured the other passengers were coming off graveyard shifts like myself. They worked in the city all night, then went back to their homes in the dim gray of the slums as soon as the sun came up. Poor bastards.

I'd never had the awful fortune to live in the slums, but I'd done three peacekeeping tours with Public Security. It hadn't left me with a very positive impression of the place. I dunno. Maybe that bias comes built-in when you're born topside. You spend your life doing everything you can to keep from falling down below, 'cause once you're off the plate, it ain't easy getting back up.

That's what you're taught, anyway. They drill it into you from the time you're a kid: the slums are a place for the dregs of humanity.

Liu seemed to pick up on the fact that I was on edge.

"Don't worry," she said. "No one's gonna fuck with you while you've got that uniform on. Sure, they'll jeer and let off some steam, but they're not stupid enough to start throwing punches."

"Sure hope so," I said.

"Even down in the slums, everyone dreams of scoring a company job. They like to bray about the evils of Shinra, but it's never more than empty words. We were the same way."

She was talking about herself, Lilisa, Glen, and Geddie. Because of their upbringing, the four shared a certain bond I'd never understand.

"'Course, I also promised myself that if I ever made it topside, I'd never step foot in the slums again. Funny how things never go quite how you imagine, isn't it?"

The train came to rest at the Sector 7 Undercity Station. Lilisa lurched and weaved her way out the doors, and we followed. The flow of disembarking passengers clearly showed the way to the central slums, but Lilisa was going the opposite direction. She seemed to be headed for a junkyard filled with old, broken-down railcars. I glanced at Liu, eyebrows raised. She nodded and told me the locals commonly referred to the place as the "train graveyard."

Lilisa staggered on, squeezing through gaps between dilapidated cars and occasionally climbing aboard one to walk its length to an exit on the other end.

"Where is she taking us?" I asked.

"Couldn't tell ya. It changes every day. I just follow to wherever she takes me. If she gets lost or climbs aboard one of these things and finds out that it's a dead end, I help her get back on track. If any thugs show up and give her a hard time, I take care of 'em."

Liu grinned. "I guess you'd say I'm her bodyguard."

"How aware is she of what she's doing?" I asked. "You said it was mako poisoning, right? I'm no expert, but even I can see her brain's pretty much fried."

"Oh, she had it bad, all right. But there are a few of us─people taking care of friends and family in similar condition as Lilisa─who suspect these little ‘walks' might not have anything to do with the poisoning at all. We're inclined to chalk it up to whatever hush-hush treatment it was that R & D provided. The lab coats made them this way. That's the theory Glen's mother subscribes to. She says she found weird scars all over her son's body, like he'd had some kind of surgery."

"Huh?"

My mind was filling up with more than a few new questions.

I started to ask, but Liu hissed, "Shhh!" and stopped short, pointing a finger at a clearing ahead.

Several figures stood in the open space, wearing the same black robes as Lilisa. I counted six or seven. None of them seemed to be doing anything in particular. They just stood there aimlessly, each facing a seemingly random direction, but all with their heads tilted upward. I followed their gazes but couldn't see anything but the grimy steel girders lining the underside of the plate.

Liu indicated two of the robed figures standing slightly apart from the rest.

"That one's Glen," she said. "And that one's Geddie."

"Wh─?"

I couldn't even get the whole word out, I was so shocked.

"It was about five years ago. Glen was shuffling to and fro in the slums, and just by chance, his father found him and took him home. When Geddie's mother heard the news, she became convinced that her son was still alive too."

Liu paused, then said, "No. I guess really she never accepted that Geddie was dead in the first place. Maybe that's part of being a parent."

I wasn't sure I agreed.

"And then, it was like someone up in the sky was listening and heard a mother's desperate prayers. Not that I buy that sort of crap, but... one day, Geddie just kinda showed up at home. That was four years ago.

"Wasn't just Glen and Geddie either. In the slums, it's not too uncommon to hear about residents going missing, like they've vanished into thin air. Suddenly, a bunch of those long-lost individuals were showing back up. Some had been missing for a couple years or so. Others had been gone as long as fifteen.

"All of 'em in the same state as Lilisa. And the creepiest part is that they all had tattoos. Somewhere on the body, there was always a number."

"Numbers, huh?" I replied. "Yeah, that sounds like the R & D I know. People, animals, monsters... They're all just specimens. So what did the company have to say about all those sudden reappearances?"

"Shinra issued some half-assed apology about mistakes in KIA reports due to the chaos of the war. But that only covered the combatants. For the others, they claimed most had been undergoing long-term treatment at Shinra facilities, and a policy change meant that anyone who didn't wish to continue treatment could ask to be discharged."

"They're claiming this lot checked themselves out of the hospital?" I waved a hand in the direction of the black-robed figures. "I'd sure like to know how they managed that. I mean, just look at them."

Liu snorted.

"Personally, I think the whole division oughta be locked up, starting with that bastard Hojo. But the parents of some of these people feel differently. They see a son or a daughter that's still alive instead of dead to mako poisoning. And if they're happy to have their kid back home no matter the condition, I don't think it's my place to convince them otherwise. Yours, either."

That seemed to be Liu's message.

I walked into the clearing and carefully sidled up to one of the robed figures Liu had pointed out. I peered under the hood to find a gaunt face with hair and beard left to grow untamed. But it was Geddie Bach, all right. I had no doubt of that.

"Geddie?" I ventured, but the man provided no response.

I tapped him lightly on one shoulder. At that, he turned slowly, lazily, to gaze in my direction.

"It's been a long time, Geddie."

His eyes showed no sign of recognition. I could tell there was something more at work than a gap of fifteen years.

"I didn't mean for..."

I trailed off. Nothing I said was reaching him. I sensed someone at my back and turned to find Liu.

"For years, I really believed Lilisa poisoned our food," she said. "Her feelings for Glen seemed a reasonable enough motive, and she had the means to get her hands on the right substance. But your visit got me thinking again, and now I've got a better answer."

"Which is... ?"

A few possibilities were whirling through my mind. First and foremost, I needed to work out what Geddie's and Glen's survival meant for me. Second, how was I going to worm my way out of the questions I knew Liu was about to ask next? How much responsibility did I bear for the shattered state of this little group of friends, and would I ever get the chance to atone for my actions?

"Where do I go from here?" I asked Liu.

"You gotta pick up the pieces one by one," she replied. "Don't worry. You have time. As you can see, they aren't going anywhere."

The train ride home was far less crowded than the ride in. Lilisa was able to sit, and she did so, taking a spot next to Liu. She seemed exhausted by her journey. Her head rested on Liu's shoulder, and Liu held a palm against the other side to help keep her steady.

I sat at Liu's other side. At one point during the ride, she reached an arm around my neck and pulled me in close. It was a lot less tender than the way she was holding Lilisa.

"Here's my theory," she said. "I think there was mako in that casserole fifteen years ago. But Lilisa didn't slip it in there. Geddie did.

"With his job granting him free access to R & D facilities, it wouldn't have been hard for him to get ahold of some highly toxic mako derivative. And I think the purpose of his crime─yeah, that's right, I said crime─was to secure a seat on Klein's bird. For whatever reason, he believed he had a lead on the fabled trove of mako President Shinra was after. All he needed was a means to get to it.

"I dunno what kind of rose-colored future he had in mind for himself once he found the site, but I think he was so determined to come out on top, he was willing to do anything to make it happen, even if it meant taking advantage of our friendship... and Lilisa's love for Glen."

Liu's arm squeezed tighter. It was getting hard to breathe.

"Please," I gasped. "Let go."

She continued as if she hadn't heard. "The only thing I can't put my finger on is what drove Geddie to those lengths."

Her hold grew tighter yet.

"So I asked myself... what business could a kid like you have with a nobody like Geddie Bach?"

"What was it you started saying to him back at the clearing?" she asked. "What was it you didn't mean to happen? Huh? I'm betting you wanted to apologize. You didn't mean for him to end up shambling around the slums as a husk of his former self."

I kept my mouth shut.

"My money says there was a kid painting those landscapes the Turks photographed. And I'm starting to think that kid was you."

"Yeah... No. I mean..."

"Better start talking."

She eased her arm from my neck, but I could tell she was ready to clamp down again if I so much as shifted my weight.

"It was a girl," I croaked. "Her name was Aerith."

I told Liu everything. The way I'd spent my days with Aerith. The story about the rat and the corkscrew tail and the pad of paper and the way it was killing her and the plan I cooked up to try and keep her safe.

In a span of hours, Aerith's drawings were the only thing anyone in R & D was talking about. It wasn't much longer before President Shinra himself came down to watch her work. He was particularly interested not in the people or animals, but rather the vegetation, the rock formations, the backgrounds... He asked questions about how she came up with the things she drew and what made them important.

Aerith ignored him at first, but when he continued to press, she begrudgingly shared that the images just floated into mind. Sweeping landscapes full of tiny details would flash into existence and linger there, refusing to go away.

The answer seemed to please President Shinra a great deal.

At my side in the train, Liu sighed. "Right. And next came the Special Geological Survey Initiative."

"Bingo. The president is a believer. As far as I can tell, he really thinks the Ancients possess some mysterious power capable of bringing boundless prosperity to all. My guess is that when he saw Aerith's drawings, he interpreted them as mankind's chance at greatness finally coming to hand."

"And what about you? Do you believe there was something special about those drawings?"

I'd long ago realized that Aerith wasn't a normal kid. She seemed to see and hear things that I never picked up on. But at the time, I didn't dare tell anyone that she was different. I didn't even allow myself to dwell on the realization. I felt certain that if I pointed out the things that made her special, the lab assistants would drag her off someplace far away, and I'd never see her again. Ancient or not, all I wanted for Aerith was to live a normal life like me.

I cleared my throat. "The day Aerith started drawing those pictures, something inside her changed. She quit smiling. She didn't eat much anymore. The stupid little dances stopped, and all the books she used to read over and over sat unloved on their shelf.

"The seventh day after I drew that shitty picture of a corkscrew, I was told I wasn't allowed to see Aerith anymore. Mom kept going to work as usual, but I was left at home with nothing to do.

"Mom tried to explain. She said Professor Hojo had decided upon a different direction for his research─a direction in which I played no part. Mom told me to go play with the normal kids in our neighborhood instead. That's exactly how she put it. ‘The normal kids.' Those words stung hard. I sat at home, crying by myself for days.

"But after a week of R & D's new direction, they reversed track. One evening, out of nowhere, they sent for us─not just Mom, but me too. As we made our way to the Shinra Building, I had a real bad feeling about what we were gonna find. And I was right. Aerith was there, but just barely. She'd wasted away to skin and bones, like a sick puppy out on the streets. When we used to play together, she'd always worn her hair in an immaculate braid. Now it hung loose and tangled, and her clothes were stained with ink and paint.

"And there was another change that bothered me even more. One entire wall of their room was covered in paint: a giant mural showing landscapes and people and weird creatures I'd never even dreamed of."

We were in the hallway, right outside Aerith's room, when my mother knelt down to look me in the eye.

"They want you to convince her," she said. "You have to get Aerith to start drawing again."

I was sitting next to Aerith at her desk.

"Did you draw all this?" I asked, pointing to the mural.

She nodded, and the room's lights caught the streaks of tears slowly drying on her cheeks.

"I did, but President Shinra and the professor... They say they don't like this one. They only want me to draw places. The drawing doesn't need to be big, they say. But it has to be a place."

"You don't want to?"

"It's not that I don't want to... It's... I can't. I don't see any more."

"Why not just make something up? Like... draw a bunch of places from your imagination. Places you wish were real."

Aerith's eyes widened at the suggestion. She shook her head violently. "No. No way. It has to be a real place," she insisted. "If it's not, somebody could die. That's what the professor said."

It wasn't until after I'd grown up that I understood what she meant. The survival rate among surveyors must have been dismal. But the fact that Hojo would look a seven-year-old girl in the eye and tell her that people's lives were riding on her actions made me sick to my stomach.

In any case, I didn't know any of that back then. I was a kid. All I could focus on was how annoyed I was about once more being dragged into Aerith's latest problem. It wasn't like there was anything I could do to help.

"Then I guess you gotta try harder," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Good luck with that."

"Didn't you hear me? I can't!"

"Okay. Then tell them you're done drawing."

"I just want to see my mom. That's all. Why won't they let me see her?"

I should have been angry at Shinra. Instead, I kept digging into Aerith.

"Fine. Then listen carefully. I'm gonna tell you what to draw, and you gotta draw it exactly. If you can do that, I promise it'll be the last picture you ever have to make."

"You'll make them stop? How?"

"I can't tell you yet. But if this works, you have to do whatever I say, okay?"

She stared at me with those wide, round eyes. They seemed to bore their way into my soul. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore and had to glance away.

"Okay," she said. "I'll do it."

I don't think she agreed because she believed in me. I think she did it because she was at the end of her rope. She'd been defeated. Her one friend in the world turned out to be a puppet at Shinra's beck and call.

Sluggishly, she pulled out a new sheet of paper and arranged her pens and brushes at the desk.

I sat next to her and whispered into her ear.

"An island there.

"Now, fill it with lots of trees.

"Make them tall. Real tall, like a two-story house.

"The leaves should be giant. Each one as big as you are; and fill all the branches.

"The trees should be packed tight. So tight, you can hardly walk between them.

"Dark green. Darker. And make the trees even a little taller."

It was something I'd seen in one of Mom's magazines. I kept directing Aerith until the picture was done, and then I pushed the emergency call button. I knew Geddie Bach would be the one to respond.

When he appeared at the door, I handed him the picture and said in a low voice, "She says this is the one. She summoned the last of her strength to make this picture, and she says it's the clearest, most vivid one she's ever seen. But that's it. She says the power and the images in her head are all gone now, and she can't draw anymore. She wants to know if you'd please explain that to Professor Hojo."

Geddie stared at me for a while and then at the picture.

"All right," he finally concluded, not taking his eyes from the paper. "I guess I'll break the news to the professor."

His words felt absentminded.

"This is Mideel, isn't it?" he asked.

"Beats me."

He continued to scan the picture carefully for a while before walking in to confront Aerith.

"This picture you drew. It's a place in Mideel, right?"

Aerith looked at me blankly. I nodded to her, ever so slightly. I didn't care what she said. I just wanted Geddie out of there as soon as possible.

She took my cue and nodded decisively at Geddie.

"I knew it!" the man exclaimed. "I've seen this before! It was in a magazine or something, and..."

"You'll make sure it gets to Professor Hojo, right?"

"Yeah," Geddie promised. "Of course."

In the end, Geddie somehow managed to keep the picture's existence entirely to himself. And because of that, Glen and Lilisa were now milling around like zombies, devoid of happiness or dreams, and Liu had lost her two closest friends.

Two weeks after I gave Geddie the picture, I came face to face with Lilisa.

"She burst into the room and started strangling Aerith," I explained to Liu. "The girl was too terrified to speak, but I saw the way she looked at me. She blamed me. She'd been begging me to help. To save her. And instead, I dove out of the way. Even after Lilisa was sedated, I was terrified. I ran from the room, leaving Aerith to fend for herself."

As I retold the story, tears welled in my eyes.

"Seems your guilt finally pushed you to act."

I nodded slightly, innocently, in that same manner Aerith had nodded when I urged her to lie.

Liu heaved a sigh. "Let's zoom out for a sec. The person responsible for the way Lilisa and Glen are now is Geddie. You might've provided Geddie a reason to act, but the fact that he actually did is all on him. You didn't know what he'd try when you handed him the picture, and you weren't aiming to get a couple of strangers poisoned.

"And as for R & D, plenty of lives have been lost to their meddling. I'm not about to lay the blame for any of that on you."

"Th-thank you." I managed to respond.

I wasn't sure gratitude was the response this called for, but I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"At the end of the day, there's nothing I can say that'll ease your guilt. And frankly, I don't think you ever gave a damn about my side of the story."

"That's not..."

I trailed off. Liu was right. She'd seen that for me, Lilisa, Glen, and even Geddie were only the periphery.

"There's a plaza out in front of the Sector 8 Station. You ever been there?"

I furrowed my brow, unsure what Liu was getting at.

"No. I've never spent much time on that part of the plate."

"A flower girl sets up shop there. Pretty sure she goes by the name Aerith."

When I stepped out of the Sector 8 Station, it was nearly evening. Sure enough, there was a flower girl in the plaza. She had a basket on one arm, and she smiled kindly at everyone who passed her by. The color of her hair was right, and her wide, bright eyes seemed like they could be the same ones from my memory.

Still, I wasn't sure.

I watched as a customer purchased a flower from her, then headed off, saying, "Thanks, Aerith. See ya tomorrow."

Apparently she had regulars. And her name was Aerith, just like Liu had said. But was this the Aerith I'd known?

She watched the customer disappear into the crowd. When she turned back around, she caught sight of me. No surprise there; my uniform made me stick out like a sore thumb. Not to mention that a Shinra trooper's stare was usually enough to grab anyone's attention. I pulled off my helmet and walked in the flower girl's direction.

As I drew nearer, certainty sank in. It was the same Aerith, all right. She watched me with a vague, uncertain smile, but when we were close enough to talk, the expression vanished from her lips.

She had to know who I was.

Aerith glanced about her surroundings and drew a half step back.

"Hey. Aerith, I..."

I didn't know where to start, but I blurted out my name, and then the floodgates were open. I started talking about everything. I recounted every single memory I had from childhood─the fun times, the boring times, the times I'd cursed myself for not being brave enough to help her, the times I'd wallowed in despair over what a shallow friend I'd been.

When the surge subsided, I added quietly, "Sorry. I... I guess I've just always wanted to apologize. I felt like I had to, or else I'd never be able to get on with my own life. And... hell if I know why, but I went about it in the stupidest, most roundabout way possible. Instead of searching for you, I had myself running around in circles, spinning like a corkscrew until..."

Throughout the whole confession, Aerith stared at me, her expression blank.

Finally, she cleared her throat and said, "Um... I'm sorry, but... I think you have the wrong person."

"What are you talking about? You're Aerith. Your mother is Ifalna. She's an Ancien─"

Her face stiffened, and I finally understood.

I was a memory she had no desire to dredge up again. I was one trace of a past she was better off without.

"My bad," I said, voice catching in my throat. "Guess I was mistaken."

I pivoted away and headed in the direction of Sector 7, wanting to leave that painful encounter behind as quickly as I could. But when I reached the edge of the plaza, I stopped and turned to catch one last glance. Aerith was looking my way.

And for the briefest moment, I was sure I saw her eyes dart up and to the side, and her tongue poke out in the opposite direction.

When I got home, Silvina greeted me at the door. She didn't look a thing like Aerith. For the first time in as long as I could remember, the great, heavy mass of guilt that had grown alongside my love for my partner and the mother of my child was gone. I felt sure it had been swept away for good.