1. [Accidental Voice]

[mind-metastasis.livejournal.com]

[He remembers climbing stairs, counting them out of habit - a trick of training observational skills taught in elementary anatomy over four decades ago. Fifty five and not even halfway up. So many steps for such a tired old man. So many lights, blurred by the Midgar rain with its tinge of green bringing the smell of acid and regret.

Sephiroth - the singular thought. Hojo's own life and that of the Silver General's, cumulating to this spectacular moment. Sephiroth - the only true success, he who exceeded all of Hojo's grandest predictions and is about to do so again.

A vial of glowing green and several capsules rest in a metal case within Hojo's inner pocket - the promises of his last surrender. The sound of his heartbeat is as loud as that of rain striking metal at his feet. Hojo is happy. About to give up everything to see Sephiroth rise and cast off the last chains which bind him to humanity, the professor finds himself truly happy, for the first time in years.

Until the flash goes off in his peripheral vision, and he stumbles.

And wakes up in another place of lights, without the rain.]

What-

What is this? [There is a slight note of panic in his voice, the sound of shuffling as he takes a few tentative steps. The next jumble of words come out in the low, urgent tone of one who is accustomed to speaking to himself.]

Hallucinatory side-effects of the J-cell treatment? But- the calculated induction dose should be too low to penetrate into the central nervous system. The rate of infection is slow, initially slow- It is the next dose which contains the lipophilic mutagen-

[A few choppy breaths, then a growl of frustration:] Sephiroth!

Comments

[voice]

[livelyangel.livejournal.com]

Hey, are you hallucinating too?

[voice]

[mind-metastasis.livejournal.com]

[He starts. That voice is coming from-?

Hojo fishes the device out of his pocket, glancing down at it before raising it to his ear.]

That depends, young miss. [He calms himself by degrees, forcing more oxygen into his lungs.] If I am indeed hallucinating, then you are likely the by-product of some disturbance in my neural processes.

[A grim chuckle follows, laughter at his own attempt at humour in a time like this.]

Please, introduce yourself. Your identity may shed more light on my current...situation.

[voice]

[livelyangel.livejournal.com]

I'm definitely not a figment of your imagination, mister. My name's Rinoa. And if your situation is the same as mine, then you're in some weird place called Memoria which is made up of our memories or something.

[voice]

[mind-metastasis.livejournal.com]

Miss Rinoa. [A pause. No, that name is unfamiliar to him, as is her voice, but he has never been good at remembering the...unimportant ones.

What she says, however, is intriguing. Memories given form again? A dangerous notion.]

If neither of us are imaginary, then - what can you tell me about this place, and your circumstances?

[voice]

[livelyangel.livejournal.com]

Not a lot, just what Zidane told me, that this place is made up of our memories.

Who are you anyway, I haven't heard you around the network before?

[voice]

[mind-metastasis.livejournal.com]

A place made up of memories. [He repeats, slowly, considering. No. That doesn't help.] I don't believe you and I are in the same place.

As for who I am - a newcomer, apparently. [Pause.] My name is Simon.

Can you help me, Miss Rinoa? Who has access to this network?

[voice]

[livelyangel.livejournal.com]

Then you're lucky, Simon. This Memoria place is pretty freaky!

Oh, anyone with a Sky Phone like you've got. The moogles give them out for free, so lots of people have one.

[voice]

[mind-metastasis.livejournal.com]

[Yes... a trip down memory lane would be freaky indeed.]

And this Sky Phone... is it able to access the World Wide Network, or some other form of data bank?

[voice]

[livelyangel.livejournal.com]

It's called Mooglenet. That's what we're using right now.