6:00 a.m.
The sound of a landline phone woke me up.
I had almost forgotten I even had one.
"Yeah? Who is this?" I asked sleepily, irritated, and genuinely confused — who in their right mind would call this early?
"Hello, Shinji. It's Hideaki. I won't be coming in today. The higher-ups called me in — I'm already on my way to Switzerland. A closed UN conference, so no details. I left the pass and the office key with security. You'll manage without me. Not sure how long it'll take."
The voice was rushed, painfully familiar, but barely recognizable through the haze of half-sleep. Somewhere in the background, I could hear the hum of a train — maybe the one taking him to the airport.
"Ah... Hideaki, it's you. Alright, I'll figure it out. Good luck," I replied and dropped back into bed before he could respond.
The dial tone was already humming.
"A conference… so he'll be gone for a while."
I lay there, staring at the ceiling. Those thoughts wouldn't let me fall back asleep.
I sighed. Time to get up.
"People usually drink coffee in the morning. But for me — it's tea. Why? Because tea is a gift from the gods. Especially green tea."
I brewed some tea and sat down at the computer — time to review the data on the Super Solenoid Theory again.
Then — an unexpected surprise.
A message popped up on screen from my homemade AI:
>
"Finally. I thought it would never finish. Let's see what kind of compromising data we've got here…"
I opened the video file and slowed the playback.
The first few frames — dull, mundane, almost bureaucratic routine.
But then — one fragment blurred before my eyes.
"What the hell… I didn't think it would be this tangled."
If you strip away the fluff, the essence was this:
On January 1, 1997, the organization Gehirn was founded and has since operated in the background.
What exactly "background mode" means — unclear.
Maybe they weren't hiring.
Maybe the project was frozen.
Or maybe — everything was happening under heavy classification.
Project "E"… The improvement of mankind. Evolution without tears.
The founders: Dr. Hideaki Katsuragi and Yui Ikari.
There were other names, but these two were the key ones.
"So what exactly is Project 'E'? Some documents call it a resurrection program for Adam. Others — the foundation for the creation of Evangelions. Most likely, it's all just different phases of the same chain."
The further I read, the clearer it became:
Yui Ikari, though she hadn't graduated from Kyoto University yet, was already working — officially — at the Laboratory of Artificial Evolution in Hakone. Remotely, but employed.
And that lab, as it turns out — was none other than Gehirn.
This confirmed my own memories.
Her father — one of the members of Seele. But which one — unknown.
Out of the twelve, I only know Kiel Lorenz.
Maybe in the future they'll become curators of the Nerv branches.
For now — shadows behind the UN.
"Too much bureaucracy. I hoped for data. For science. But I got meeting protocols and internal memos instead."
Frustrated, I kept watching.
Not because I expected a miracle — but because I had to dig to the bottom.
Finally — data on bioengineering, genetics, and cybernetics:
DNA reconstruction, cellular regeneration, slowed aging… immortality.
"Yes, interesting. But… not revolutionary. Not what I hoped for."
From the perspective of 1997 — a breakthrough.
In my world, similar tech only started development around 2025.
But in the context of Evangelion — this was practically ancient history.
As for the connection between man and machine — still far off.
No Magi System, no Naoko Akagi — just guesses and dreams.
My thoughts were interrupted by a glance at the clock — 11:00.
Time to head to the Institute.
---
Security handed me the key and the pass.
My office was on the fifth floor.
A modest setup: whiteboards, cabinets, a desk with a computer.
"Not bad," I muttered.
After a brief inspection, I decided to visit the library.
I needed to finish the Exoskeletal Glove — and for that, I needed knowledge I didn't yet have.
The library was on the second floor.
A few people were deeply absorbed in reading — they couldn't care less about my presence.
I walked up to the counter.
Behind it stood a middle-aged woman, neatly trimmed hair… and blue.
"Good afternoon. Do you have any books on mechanics, robotics, electronics, and maybe biomechanics?" I asked in a distant tone.
Without lifting her eyes from her book, she pointed with her hand:
"Fifth row, section A-1. Sorted by title. No noise. No damage to books. Fine — 5000 yen. Violation — entry ban. Shinji Yuma."
"Understood, Ryoko-san," I said, reading her name from the badge and heading for the shelves.
I had a badge too. It said: Intern.
Reading dragged on until evening. On the way home, I thought:
"I won't get enough materials for the project from the Institute. I should check out Kuroda's shop — he's got piles of junk. Maybe I'll find something for the exoskeleton… or for liquid cooling. My PC is overheating again."
My thoughts wandered. Formulas began assembling themselves in my head:
"For composites — carbon fiber and aramid. Metals — titanium alloy Ti-6Al-4V with a 316L coating. Polymers — nitinol or PEEK."
"Crazy expensive…" I muttered.
"But if I join Gehirn under the UN wing — I could always 'redirect' some Nerv resources…"
---
Back home, I decided to finish the EP-NG — the Exoskeletal Glove of the New Generation.
Maybe not the flashiest name, but I liked the abbreviation.
"If Tony Stark could install a repulsor, I can at least mount a taser."
The frame — steel and stainless.
Actuator — pneumatic, with brake fluid. Cheap, reliable, safe.
Not exactly Marvel nanotech, but elegant in its own way.
Only thing left — install a mid-power taser.
By nightfall, it was ready.
I crashed into bed.
---
In the morning, I went to Kuroda's.
The shop was dead quiet.
That was a bad sign.
"Hey, Kuroda, you here?" I called out.
A rustle answered me, and then he appeared from the back of the shop.
He looked… tense.
"What do you need this time, kid?" he asked, nervously fiddling with his hands.
Something was off.
Kuroda was always jittery — but now there was fear. Animal fear.
The bell above the door jingled.
Someone entered.
I had my back to them — didn't pay attention.
But Kuroda…
His pupils dilated, his movements sharpened.
He knew who it was.
"So this is the kid you told us about?"
a voice said behind me.
"Ha! He's just a brat. And you couldn't handle him? Pfft. Let's go back — I'll tell the boss, ha-ha!"
"Ushi-Tiger Gang… What kind of dumb name is that?"
"Sorry, kid," Kuroda mumbled.
At that moment — movement behind me.
I instinctively spun over my right shoulder, dodged the strike, and raised my left hand — firing the taser.
The guy twitched, jerked, and dropped, muttering something in a language unfit for tasers.
"Kuroda, grab him!" the second one yelled, lunging at me.
Kuroda grabbed my right arm.
But… the wrong one.
I twisted, pressed the taser to his gut.
He folded.
And then — I got stabbed.
Left side. Opposite the liver.
"Bastard…" I hissed through my teeth.
Pain shot up my shoulder.
The attacker hesitated — probably his first time.
I staggered, lunged forward — and drove the last spark into him.
Stumbling out into the street, I walked, trying to save my strength.
My ears were ringing.
My vision dimming.
Blood — dark and sticky — was flowing.
I almost made it to the alley when I heard a woman scream.
The last thing I remember — someone calling an ambulance.
Then — blackness.