Out of Many Scattered Things: The Blue Guitar

I like to think of you winning every lottery. All of the time. For all time.

Chapter warnings: Realistic depictions of neurological, physical, and bureaucratic trauma. War. Grief. Death. Mental illness. Regular illness.

Text iteration: Witchingest hour.

Additional notes: None.

[The sound of rain. The sound of Caitlin Lightcap whistling. Opening music fades up, lingers, ends.]

The Blue Guitar

Narrator:  [deadpan] Sometime in the winter of 1903 to 1904, near the end of his Blue Period, the artist Pablo Picasso painted The Old Guitarist over a pre-existing and nameless painting of a mother and child. In 1937, inspired by that painting, a Hartford insurance executive named Wallace Stevens wrote a poem entitled: The Man with The Blue Guitar. In 2009, inspired by that poem, an indecisive graduate student working on his sixth and final doctorate purchased a blue guitar. In 2013, an alien species emerged from the bottom of the Pacific Ocean and began periodically laying waste to costal cities at decreasing interval time spans. There was no causal relationship between the alien incursion and the graduate student’s purchasing of the blue guitar. In fact, the events were not even temporally correlative. At the moment a transdimensional breach opened in the bottom of the Pacific, that graduate student was tenured, hung over, and proctoring a tissue engineering final at an academic institution halfway across his little blue planet. His name was Newton Geiszler. His guitar was never given a name. In 2016, the blue guitar, in the company of its owner, made its way to Alaska. In 2016, Newton Geiszler joined the Pan Pacific Defense Corps. These two events were causally related. At this time, the guitar made the acquaintance of Dr. Caitlin Lightcap, head of the K-science division. This meeting occurred on a helipad in the dark of an Alaskan spring. The weather was unseasonably cold. A guitar string snapped, inaudible beneath the sound of the wind and the rotating blades of the chopper.

[The sound of wind. The sound of a chopper.]

Newt:  [shouting to be heard] Dr. Lightcap, I presume?

Lightcap:  [shouting] What gave it away?

Newt:  Situational cues?

Lightcap: Good answer. Welcome to Alaska. [The sound of a closing door.]  Whew. The weather will turn tolerable right around the time we relocate to Tokyo. 

Newt: [reserved, cautious] Tokyo? No one said anything about—

Lightcap:  You now work at the whim of an international organization structured around elements of borrowed military bureaucracy, kiddo. No one says anything about anything. Is that a guitar?

Newt:  Yup. Call me Newt.

Lightcap: [sweetly] No thank you.

Newt:  Do you play? Guitar, I mean.

Lightcap:  Nope, and neither do you. 

Newt:  Oh, wait, hang on a second; let me just recalibrate my entire personality and worldview to suit whatever subjective opinions you might express.  

Lightcap:  Good. And while you’re at it, consider your death. Consider your carbonization to ashes. Consider those ashes spread across the sea. Consider that, depending on the manner of your death, you will leave no ashes. Don’t grin at me like that, Geiszler. I’m serious.

Newt:  That much is extremely apparent. So very pleased to have made your acquaintance, Dr. Lightcap. I think I can find my own way from here.

Lightcap:  Can you though?

Narrator:  Dr. Geiszler replaced the broken guitar string that same day. As a matter of principle, he chose to display the guitar prominently and inappropriately in his assigned lab space. It was in this way that the guitar joined the K-science division. Despite Dr. Lightcap’s initial hostility, it seemed that in practice she tacitly approved of Dr. Geiszler’s aesthetic and attitudinal choices. She said no more about the instrument. Because of the guitar’s proximity to his workspace, Dr. Geiszler immediately developed the habit of plugging a pair of headphones into the output jack and playing dissonant chords while ‘thinking.’   Unfortunately for his nearest colleague, while the electric guitar was not connected to an external amp, these chords were still audible. Even more unfortunately, Dr. Geiszler was known to ‘think’ very frequently.

Hermann:  zeta of s equals the sum of, from n=1 to infinity, one over n to the s. If the real part of s is greater than one, then the zeta function satisfies the sum of negative one to the n plus one over n to the s—

[Dissonant electric guitar chord.]

Hermann:  I will kill that man. It will be justified. It will, in fact, be justice.

Narrator:  Dr. Geiszler’s colleague was the acting head of a K-science subdivision known as the B-side. The B-side was named for the transdimensional portal at the bottom of the Pacific, known colloquially as ‘the Breach.’  Dr. Gottlieb’s team consisted primarily of quantum physicists working to discover the portal’s origin, properties, and composition. After his arrival in Anchorage, Dr. Geiszler petitioned Dr. Lightcap to create another division within K-science devoted to the study of the biological organisms transited by the breach, known colloquially as ‘kaiju.’  Dr. Lightcap named this division the K-side. Dr. Geiszler objected to this name on the grounds that it would cause undue confusion within a department already known as ‘K-science.’  He renamed his division The A-team. This caused significant consternation on the B-side. 

Hermann:  This name is indecorous, immature, creates a false sense of hostility and an inappropriate rivalry between two subdivisions that should be collaborative in nature—

Newt:  Rivalry? What ‘rivalry’.  That’s ridiculous. You can’t pit quantum mechanics against biology. Except in terms of grant funding, probable relevance, competence of specialist personnel, demonstrable advances, and sheer exobiological awesomeness. The A-team clearly dominates in all those categories. But the letters? In and of themselves? Meaningless. A is a. B is b. Law of identity. 

Hermann:  Law of identity? You juvenile, disingenuous—

Newt:  You pretentious, literal-minded—

Lightcap:  QUIET.

[Silence]

Newt:  He started it.

Hermann:  You are clearly the instigator of this utterly pointless—

Lightcap:  How long have you two known each other? Less than a week? I feel like there’s some history I’m missing.

Newt:  Nope.

Hermann:  Absolutely none.

Newt:  There is no history. No history at all.

Lightcap:  Uh huh. Okay. Sure. The names stand. B-side. A-team. Gottlieb, stop complaining. Geiszler, stop surreptitiously being a bastard at every opportunity. Both of you? Stop wasting my time. I don’t have a lot to spare. 

Narrator:  Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb did, in fact, know one another prior to being assigned adjoining lab spaces. They had begun their correspondence in 2013 following the first kaiju attack. They had spent the intervening years exchanging an extensive series of letters.   

[The sound of a needle dropping. A record begins playing Bolero by Ravel.]

Hermann:  Dear Dr. Geiszler, you must pardon the indecorous enthusiasm of the response you are about to read but I must confess I was thrilled to receive your letter. I cannot tell you how frustrated I have been, trying to communicate the relevancies of my model to a pedestrian academic hierarchy of an indentured faculty who seem to distrust applicability purely on principle. That statement is, of course, unfair.

Newt:  Dear Dr. Gottlieb, indecorousness pardoned now and forever. In fact, I actively encourage indecorousness at every opportunity. That sounded unpardonably lascivious; allow me to rephrase. The turnaround time on the exquisitely worded ‘missive’ you just sent was unbelievable. It’s actually going to take me a few days (years?) to navigate myself through that document you sent—I do not math the way you math, I don’t think.

Hermann:  Dear Dr. Geiszler, at times I feel as though you may have a firmer grasp on the conceptual underpinnings of quantum physics than many of my colleagues, though I am certain this cannot truly be the case. Perhaps a better way to put this is that you are a reductionist who presents himself inductively.

Newt:  Dear Dr. Gottlieb, I talk a good game, it’s true, but I think I think a better one. You, on the other hand, tend to mean what you say and say what you think and so I am terribly flattered by your analysis of my analysis, or, rather, your analysis of my analytical style. Allow me to say: right back at ya, but inverted.

Hermann:  Dear Newton, I find myself wondering about the future of tissue regeneration as a field now that you have turned your intellectual energies elsewhere. I confess I have been perusing the literature after reading your Nature paper from 2012 and it seems extremely apparent to me that you are one of the prime drivers of basic research in—

Newton:  Dear Hermann, I kept refreshing Science’s website for the entire afternoon. I can’t believe you wouldn’t send me a pre-publication copy of your paper; you are maddeningly ethical. It hurts me. In my soul a little bit. I know, I know, you made an agreement with the group from Japan, but—

Hermann:  Dear Newton, I have never met anyone who has a better grasp on the inherently political structure of academia. At times I almost think you must have been raised in such an environment, it’s so integral to your worldview—

Newton:  Dear Hermann, you aren’t wrong; in fact I get the sense that you’re rarely wrong, and that is something of an intellectual turn-on, I am not going to lie about that. But I don’t want to give you the idea that I’m a cheap intellectual date, okay? It takes a lot more to satisfy me than the verifiable accuracy of a working model—

Hermann:  Dear Newton, you must tell me what you think of this paper in Quantum Physics Letters. I was unware of its existence until I picked up a copy of Die Zeit this morning. The fact that you emailed me one hour ago and didn’t mention it—

Newton:  Dear Hermann, I’m late for my genetics seminar but I saw your email and I just had to let you know that yes!  I saw it. Thank god it’s out now. It’s been killing me to keep my mouth shut about it since I saw their data at a RIP talk I crashed six weeks ago—

Hermann:  Dear Newton, it’s four in the morning and I am too troubled to sleep. I am watching the continuing coverage from the Philippines—and I find it at once both distressing and fascinating. I am reminded of your comments regarding—

Newton:  Dear Hermann, I hear the insomnia song; hear it, have heard it, will always have it playing on repeat somewhere in my head; it sounds a little bit like Freddie Mercury singing Under Pressure over and over again if you want to know—

Hermann:  Dear Newton, please be careful in Manila, social conventions are lost mid-disaster and you—well, I don’t wish for you to take this the wrong way, but you strike me as the kind of person who might not—

Newton:  Dear Hermann, I’m trying to keep myself awake. There is so much particulate matter in the air here that if you fall asleep and your respirator filter clogs it’s possible to die of hypoxia. The touchscreen on my phone is corroding—  

Hermann:  Dear Newton, Alaska is cold, dark, and altogether miserable. My outerwear is inadequate and my room is made of poorly insulated metal for no reason I can discern. It is enough to make one take up drinking if only for—

Newton:  Dear Hermann, I do not understand why you insisted upon applying to that ridiculous pilot training program, it sounds like it’s full of pointless machismo and I will—

Hermann:  Dear Newton, please do not be so dramatic; things are not as bad as I made them out in my previous email; I was frustrated by—

Newton:  Dear Hermann, sorry for the radio silence; turns out I was in quarantine—

Hermann:  Dear Newton, I thought of you today because —

Newton:  Dear Hermann, I will miss you if you die while—

Hermann:  Dear Newton, please be more careful—

Newton:  Dear Hermann, tonight I can’t sleep—

Hermann:  Dear Newton—

Newton:  Dear Hermann—  

Hermann:  Dear Newton—

Newton:  Dear Hermann— 

Narrator:  Their correspondence continued until they met in person in 2015 at a scientific conference in Geneva, and, through a complex sequence of unfortunate circumstances, snap judgments, and unadvised decisions, came to instantly despise one another.

[Sound of record scratch.]

Narrator:  Dr. Gottlieb never revealed to anyone that he had a habit of printing Dr. Geiszler’s electronic correspondence and drafting his replies longhand. Weather permitting, he would sit outside as he wrote. His last letter had been composed on the summer solstice, near midnight, under an unsetting Alaskan sun as he worked his way through a thermos of Earl Gray tea after his dismissal from the Jaeger Academy. Dr. Geiszler never revealed to anyone that he had created a small, solid-state drive to hold the entirety of their correspondence and carried it as a key ring in the shape of a guitar pick. He did not want to be thought sentimental. His last letter had been composed on a trans-Atlantic flight passing forward through a set of seven time zones. The pace of his typing had disturbed his seatmates. He made an effort to type more slowly and quietly multiple times. He was not successful. Shortly after Dr. Geiszler joined the PPDC, the pair became famous for their incompatibility, their open disdain for one another, their semi-regular shouting matches, and their perplexing tendency to sit next to one another at mandatory briefings, exchanging sardonic asides. Whether or not they considered themselves ‘friends’ was a widely debated topic on which neither of them deigned to weigh in. Dr. Geiszler’s guitar, the frequent focal point for their confrontations, had no opinion on the matter. It was, after all, a guitar. 

Shortly after its arrival in Tokyo, the guitar made the acquaintance of Mako Mori. 

[Sound of alarms, running, general commotion, a loud crash, and general commotion continues under the spoken lines.]

Lightcap:  [shouting]  Get a med team. Get me a drill and get me a med team. 

Hermann:  I—would not have believed this possible.

Newt:  [understated] Well, that doesn’t look the best.

Lightcap:  His copilot is dead, half of Tango’s drive train is gone, the cockpit is too warped for automated docking, he’s injured, and according to Tendo? He’s got a little girl in there. Holy shit. [quietly and rapidly] One two three four; one two three four.

Hermann:  A child?

Lightcap:  Yeah. Okay. New kid? You’re with me. He’s going to be bolted into that suit and the rig won’t dock with the automated frame. We’re going to have to unscrew the thing manually.

Newt:  Okay, forget the mechanics of the ‘unscrew’—how are we going to get in there if the cockpit is too warped to dock?

Hermann:  I recommend jumping from the lower service deck to the auxiliary service port and climbing past the reactor. From there, you’re a hatch and a ladder away from the cockpit.

Newt:  Jump? Do you realize how many tax dollars have been invested in my brain? 

Hermann:  Far more than it warrants. Try not to dash it against concrete. 

Newt:  The shielding on that reactor core is shit.

Lightcap:  This is the job, kiddo. I’ll give you a raise if everyone lives. 

Newt:  How did Pentecost get a little girl inside that thing. Is there seriously a little girl in there? 

Hermann:  Left hand to right cockpit emergency hatch. Which you would know, if you bothered to look at any blue prints. At all. Ever. 

Newt:  Not my area. Hermann. 

Lightcap:  Geiszler. Stairs. Service dock. We’re going. Hold my drill. 

[Sounds of transit over metal]

Newt:  If I die, Lightcap, I want you to know that I died unimpressed with your emergency access designs and your respect for the train wreck that is radiation meeting the human genome.

Lightcap:  Well, if I die, I want you to know that I was not thinking about you at all, other than as the guy holding my drill.

Newt:  [with difficulty, climbing] Touché. Let me ask you a question, Lightcap. Doesn’t it seem like people that aren’t us should be doing this? J-tech, for example. The medical team. J-tech. Also? J-tech. Did I mention J-tech to you. 

Lightcap: [grimly] It’s my rig, my suit, my interface. My bolts. My screws. My risk assessment. My division. J-tech? Is mine. I am the best qualified and at the crucial moment you happened to be standing next to me like an overqualified neoneurohipster with nothing useful to do. Now, we’re jumping this gap and we are not screwing it up. 

Newt:  Ideally not, no.

[sound of Lightcap jumping]

Lightcap:  Now toss me the drill and jump. 

Newt:  Comin’ atchya.

[The sound of a tossed drill.]

Lightcap:  Jump. Don’t think about it. 

[Newt jumps.]

Lightcap:  [quiet laughter]

Newt: Thinking is my skillset. You realize this.

Lightcap:  I know, baby-genius. Now climb.

Newt:  Climbing, climbing. God. Don’t call me baby.

Lightcap:  Don’t have that face. [low in the mix, beneath Newt’s coming lines] One two three four, two two three four, three two three four, four two three four.

Newt:  Very mature, Lightcap. Your professionalism never ceases to astound. [The sound of straining over the sound of grinding metal.] Is there a trick to opening this thing, or?

Lightcap:  Put your back into it, Geiszler. 

Newt:  You’re the one who, like, lifts weights every day. Personally, I’d prefer a lever of some kind, but—

[sound of opening hatch and footsteps over metal, sound of a crying child, which continues irregularly until Mako’s speaking lines below; consider Ally trying some variants of crying Mako? Alternatively we can find a crying child sound somewhere. Hmm, we actually have Mako crying in the movie as a point of comparison.]

Lightcap:  [under breath] Oh shit. [then urgent and intent, but not loud] Marshal. Marshal Pentecost. Sir. Stacker. Stacker. The short wave went down. Are you hurt?

Pentecost:  [pained] I’ve had worse. Allow me to introduce Ms. Mako Mori.

Lightcap:  [to Mako] Hi baby. You’re going to need to let go of the marshal so I can unscrew his suit. Okay? Come on. Let go. Let go. We’re letting go. Nope. We’re not letting go. That’s good. Thaaaat’s just great. [Mako begins to cry.]  Okay, and now we’re crying. Um, don’t cry, baby. Geiszler, how about you take the kid and I will take the drill? Yes?

Newt:  Myeah, I—

Lightcap:  Give me the drill. Take the kid.

[Mako continues to cry.]

Newt:  Mako Mori? More Like Maks in socks, am I right? Hey, it’s cool, crying is, like, a thing.  Evolutionary.  You just go for it, kiddo.  Weeping seems like a reasonable choice to me.  Very defensible.  Myeah, you speak no English, do you?  Absolutely none. My name is Newt. I, uh, like your shoe? You can stick with me for a little while. I’m probably the coolest person here; I won’t lie to you about that. I’m extremely honest when it comes to appraisals of personal merit; it’s one of my strong suits.

[Sound of a drill]

Lightcap:  [whispered] Oh god, this looks bad. We’ve got a team from medical on the way.

Pentecost:  I’m all right.

Lightcap:  [distractedly, as if very intent on absorbing work] You might not know. You might be in neural shock. Can you feel your fingers? Feel your toes? Are you in any pain at all?

Pentecost:  I’m all right.

[The sound of a drill and warping metal.]

Newt:  You look like you’re a smart one, Maks. Lots going on in that brain. How did you get yourself into a Jaeger, hmm? That’s ridiculously badass. You should probably be a bassist. Women who play the bass are categorically badass. Not because it’s a gendered, thing, Maks, that sends the wrong sort of message. Only because if you can rock a large instrument with small hands that implies a greater degree of virtuosity. Look, none of this matters because I don’t have a bass. You’ll have to make due with a guitar for now. You’ll like it. It matches your coat. It’s literally the most fun thing I own because some overbearing supervisors that I won’t name but that might or might not be in the immediate vicinity and listening to this right now put a weight restriction on personal items at time of employ for no real reason other than some wish to conform to a preexisting militaristic culture, myeah? Am I right, Maks? Of course I’m right. I’m always right. When I’m running K-science people will be allowed to own books. Put up a monster poster or two in their workspace if that’s their shtick. Buy a coffee maker, huh? Does that sound reasonable? A coffee maker? No response? Well, look, I get that you’re probably a little bit preoccupied. I would be too. Coffee though. Very important. For morale. Also for science. Think about it. Humans need to be human. That’s the point of it all, I’m pretty sure, Maks.

Mako:  [tearfully] Mako.

Newt:  Maks.

Mako:  Mako.

Newt:  Mako. Mako. I get it, kid; what do I look like to you? An idiot? Do you care about my name at all, or do you just want me to get yours right? I know a guy you’ll get along with really well. His name is Hermann Gottlieb.    

[Sound of drill.]

Pentecost:  [through gritted teeth] Who’s the new guy? 

Lightcap:  No idea.

Newt:  [pointedly] My name is Newt, Maks.

Mako:  Mako.

Newt:  Mako, Newt. Newt, Mako.

Mako:  Newt?

Newt:  Newt.

Pentecost:  What kind of name is Newt?

Lightcap:  [to Pentecost] Newton Geiszler, PhD.

Newt:  In sextuplicate. Nice to meet you.

Pentecost:  That hair isn’t regulation.

Newt:  It isn’t? I am so sorry about that. I, a scientist in governmental employ and not actually subject to your faux militaryesque hierarchy, will just get right on that for you, dude. How are we getting this kid out of here, by the way.

Pentecost:  Carefully. 

Narrator:   Years passed as the guitar traveled the Pacific Rim. It saw Dr. Lightcap come more and more frequently to Dr. Geiszler’s office.  She would sit with her PPDC-issued boots propped on a desk that was not her own, balancing her chair on half its legs, her arms crossed in blithe unconcern regarding any possible unbalancing. It saw Dr. Gottlieb stop by less and less frequently. He would pause occasionally in the hallway, but he would rarely enter Dr. Geiszler’s office, as he did not care to be drawn into three-way speculative discussions when there was science pending. And there always was. It saw Mako Mori grow taller and acquire her own bass, which was electric and black. It witnessed the building of Jaegers, the coming of kaiju, and a turning point in a war between two species. This is its story. 

Newt:  [testily rather than broadly] This had better be important. I hate mandatory science-side briefings. Despise. Loathe. Cannot stand. Waste of time, nearly universally. Why do I need to be informed regarding the regulations pursuant to J-tech’s slovenly OSHA violation blah blah blah et cetera et cetera et—

Hermann:  [flatly] Stop needlessly sowing intellectual rivalry wherever you go. J-tech is an exemplary—

Newt:  [suggestively] Fifty percent of my complaining is for your benefit, you realize. I know you secretly love it. What if we started bringing vodka to these things. Vodka is clear, right? We could put it in those hermetically sealed futuristic waterbottles that all the pilots seem to think add a little bit of badass cache to the biological necessity of hydration. Just a thought.

Hermann: [amused] I will most certainly report you if you begin such a practice.

Newt:  [theatrical sigh] Ugh. Don’t I know it. 

Skye:  Hey Newt. [to Hermann] Is this seat taken, bro?

Hermann:  Do I know you?

Skye:  Yes? Or, I thought you did?

Newt:  This is my intern. This has been my intern for six weeks. The same intern with the kickass comparative anatomy paper in Nature Kaiju Science. The same intern with a weird gift for wielding a bone saw. This will continue to be my intern for the rest of the summer. You have seen him literally every day. You will continue to see him, again, literally every day, because he has an admirable weekend work ethic. Now. Say hello.

Skye:  Hey Dr. Gottlieb.

Newt:  Not you. Him. Him.

Hermann:  What did you say your name was? 

Skye:  Skye.

Hermann:  What.

Skye:  That’s my name. Skye. Skye McLeod.

Hermann:  How unfortunate for you.

Mako:  Hello Dr. Gottlieb, please excuse me.

Hermann:  Ms. Mori. What are you doing here?

Mako:  I wished to help. I told Newt that I wished to help specifically with the bones that the summer intern is also helping with. This is because I am interested in science. Science is very important. [To Skye] Dr. McLeod, I have finished cataloguing the samples you assigned to me.

Skye:  Awesome. Want to check out my bone saw?

Mako:  Yes, very much.

Newt:  [in a tone of understated warning] Watch it, Dr. McLeod.

Skye:  [confused/maybe not confused] What?

Hermann: [acidly and quietly to Newt] She’s a bit young to be working in a lab full of toxic alien viscera, don’t you think?

Newt:  Chill. They’re in one of the auxiliary labs. Mostly. 

Hermann:  Is Marshal Pentecost aware that you—

[sound of someone tapping on a microphone, sound of crowd slowly fades out]

Lightcap:  Hello? Is this thing on? Yes? Yes. Okay. Hello. Thank you all for coming. I realize that literally everyone hates these meetings. You can stop leaving comments in the suggestion box about how they’re disruptive to experimental schedules. I have read them. Or, I would have, if we had a suggestion box, which, ha, we don’t!  Sorry kids. It builds character. Now, I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is that the timetable for Mark 3 production has been moved up!  Yay!

Newt:  Great.

Hermann:  Oh Gott.

Lightcap:  The bad news is that the timetable for Mark 3 production has been moved up. In order to meet the demands of the new schedule we will be hiring some additional faculty but also asking certain members of the K-science Division to take on responsibilities that would normally fall to J-Tech, including but not limited to design, computational programming—

Newt:  Sucks to be you.

Hermann:  Shut up, will you please.

Lightcap: —acquisition of raw materials, participation in quality control panels, and construction of stereotactic rigs 5, 6, 7, and X. 

Hermann: I won’t be the only one working at the behest of J-tech.

Newt:  Rig X is mine anyway.

Lightcap:  Brawler Yukon, and Romeo Blue are due for re-fits. We owe Vladivostok a good turn and, also? We’re collectively, as a species, trying not to die and soooo we’re updating the guidance systems of Eden Assassin with Dr. Choi’s latest code. Also, for those interested, Coyote Tango is back in Anchorage with a new pilot team.

[cheering]

Mako:  [whispering] That was the Marshal’s Jaeger.

Skye:  [whispering] Sweet.

Mako:  If it were here I could show it to you. There are secret ways to get in and to climb up.

Skye:  For real?

Mako:  It is true for every Jaeger, but for now I only know the plans for Coyote Tango. I am going to be a Jaeger pilot some day.

Skye:  That’s awesome, Maks. Er, do you actually go by Maks?

Mako:  Yes. But only sometimes. Only people I like may call me Maks.

Skye:  So—

Mako:  You may call me Maks if you wish.

Skye:  Cool. 

Lightcap:  Onscreen is a detailed timetable for each division regarding the projected—

Newt:  Aaaaaaand that’s my cue to leave.

Hermann:  [hissing] this is a mandatory briefing. 

Lightcap: [continuing under the rest of the dialogue] production and refit requirements broken down on a week-by-week and unit-by-unit basis. Let’s start with the J-tech core team. Priorities one, two and three are listed on the screen. Briefly, we’re talking shielding, shielding, shielding people. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not wild about the idea of dying of cancer in my forties, so let’s improve the leaks without adding metric tons of lead, what do you say, kids? The fact that we haven’t fixed this problem is killing me. Literally. Next up? Materials science. This is a little more complicated. Now, as you know, the local contract with our friends here at Tokyo Energy Solutions is about to be renewed and in order to get enough raw materials and industrial equipment needed for the new conductive system in the Mark 3 Jaegers we will have to make good on our promise of sharing our alloy formula and those documents have to go through our legal department to their legal department so, unfortunately someone’s going to be need to be elected to peel off and spend a week as a science liaison to make sure everything goes through on time and on schedule. Any takers. Yes? Yes? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Skye:  [whispering] I’ll come with you.

Mako:  [whispering] I’ll come too.

Newt: [whispering] No, er, you guys take notes for me, okay?

Skye:  Dude, that’s cold. I’m going to get back to the lab and you’re going to have dissected that entire wing. 

Newt:  Fine. But Maks, you stay here.

Mako:  I will stay here for five minutes and then I will come.

Newt:  A-plus, Maks. You are going to be dangerous when you grow up.

Hermann:  You are a terrible influence. Someone is going to fire you, Dr. Geiszler, and I will stand by in infinite approbation.

Newt:  Byeeee Hermann.

[Lightcap’s speech continues until the sound of a door shutting]

Skye:  Ugh, so boring.

Newt:  The meeting, or Dr. Gottlieb? Ha. Don’t answer that. I’m just going to assume you answered correctly. 

Skye:  So Mako tells me you play guitar.

Newt:  You could say that.

Skye:  She also tells me that you had a nerd rock band and that you played leftie guitar.

Newt:  Eh. My band and my guitar are pretty okay if you’re into awesome things. You and Mako seem to really be hitting it off.

Skye:  She’s just looking for someone to practice the bass with, I think. We’ve been hanging out. I do a little drum playing, so we jam.

Newt:  Oh you do, do you. 

Skye:  You should come.

Newt:  Maybe. I’m concerned that you don’t seem to view me as your superior. Or fear me. You really should fear me at least a little bit, Dr. McLeod. 

Skye:  Eh. 

Newt:  Now look, scintern—

Skye:  What’s a scintern?

Newt:  A portmanteau of science and intern? Come on. [snapping fingers] Get with it. Now. Look. I’m your advisor, and I’m about to advise. There’s a certain je ne sais quoi undertone-of-responsibility in carefully deciding which mandatory briefings to skip. If they involve something that’s going to kill you? They are not skippable. If they involve financial obligations to governmental or corporate powers, they are skippable, unless you are a human lynchpin of the bureaucratic machinery that runs this place, like poor Lightcap is. Poor Lightcap. Poor poor poor photogenic, rockstar, rock of bureaucracy, science goddess, robot-whisperer Lightcap. I feel sooooo bad for her. No, seriously though. Get too much shit done in this life and you will suffer, scintern; it’s just part of the human condition. 

Skye:  Speaking of Dr. Lightcap? I feel like you couldn’t get away with half of what you get away with if she didn’t like you so much. 

Newt:  What’s to get away with? Wait. You think she likes me?

Skye:  Yeah. Kind of like in a parent way though. Not a girlfriend way.

Newt:  I am going to pretend you never said anything about any of this, scintern, okay? That way I won’t have to strip a layer off my cortex with a dilute bleach solution I inject into my intrathecal space.

Skye: I just call it like I see it. No offense.

Newt:  [sigh]

Narrator:  Dr. Caitlin Lightcap was born on a sunny Monday morning in 1984 to a Methodist minister and a divinity school librarian. As a child she sang in church; as a teenager she was the star of her high school basketball team; and when she went to college at Carnegie Mellon she published the results of her senior thesis in Science. She received a PhD in robotics on a rainy day in May and later that same week she arrived in Washington DC on the heels of a record heat wave to begin her work at DARPA. After the Breach opened in 2013, she was recruited to the PPDC by Jasper Schoenfeld, a mentor turned lover turned painful acquaintance. Her scientific accomplishments and her consequent rise within the fledgling organization were meteoric. She built an interface to connect the human brain to a massive framework of metal. She saved the life of pilot candidate Sergio D’onofrio by bolting herself to a stereotactic rig and, in so doing, created the Drift. She became famous for an Op-Ed in The New York Times in which she spoke openly of her struggle with OCD. 

Lightcap:  [composed, as if reading]..everyone has their own identity, their own ways of perceiving themselves, perceiving others, determining what should and should not be possible. For myself, I took comfort from the idea of the mind as a mechanical object. A set of circuits that are configured in unique ways. Would I say that there’s something wrong with my brain? Some days it feels that way. But then there are other days; days where it feels like the world is a computer simulation that I’m running on my own unique and exquisitely sophisticated biological processor while pieces of code and needed RAM are snapping down in the precise way that I want them to snap down. I did worry that in a world where we are now interfacing our minds with colossal, sophisticated machines, I might be precluded from participating in the way I wanted to participate because of my OCD. But it didn’t turn out that way. I think it could have. I don’t think our species has come so far that a board room of sober decision makers would give me the go ahead to step into a Jaeger—the most precocious thing that our species has collectively constructed. But the reality is that I didn’t give them that choice. I jacked myself into a rig to save a man who was dying. I didn’t think about the social significance of that act as I was performing it; I was simply acting to save a human life.

Narrator:  Along with Stacker Pentecost, Dr. Lightcap founded the Jaeger Academy. Under her direction, the prototype Jaeger Brawler Yukon was built by a crew of engineers that she would later turn into the J-Tech division of the PPDC. She trained as a pilot. Along with her drift partner and husband, Sergio D’onofrio, she was the first human to kill a kaiju using a Jaeger. It was at this time that the iconic picture of Dr. Ligthtcap kneeling on bloodstained ice, her interface helmet under one arm as she looked up at Brawler Yukon, was taken. Dr. Lightcap became an international superstar; the first scientist to capture the global imagination since Albert Einstein had toppled Newtonian mechanics. It was well known by children worldwide that Dr. Lightcap had a black belt in tae-kwon-do and a cat named Schrödinger. She stood six feet tall in her favorite pair of stiletto heels and five foot ten in her favorite pair of combat boots. She was known for ending interviews with truculent eloquence regarding the importance of science as a discipline.

Lightcap:  [with haughty charm] Experimentation as salvation. Who’s the nerd now? 

Narrator:  Nevertheless, Dr. Geiszler considered himself unimpressed with this collection of personal and professional attributes.

[insert various sounds of saws and bones cracking and viscera hitting the floor.]

Newt:  Hand me that hydrospanner.

Skye:  That’s tool from the Star Wars universe.

Newt:  You’re a tool from the Star Wars universe. This thing uses hydraulic pressure to crack alien bone, what more do you want from me?

[cracking sound]

Skye:  You realize I could be doing this, right? De-boning this tissue sample? Rather than just handing you tools? Comparative anatomy is kind of my area.

Newt:  I know, kid, but here’s the thing. I’d feel really bad if you died. 

Skye:  I just don’t see that happening.

Newt:  Don’t you? Well, that’s only because you lack experience. Watch the door, will you, I don’t want Maks sneaking up on us and accidentally stepping in a compound that, technically speaking, I haven’t so much identified as not identified—

Mako:  Hi Newt!

Newt:  Oh my god, Maks; give a guy a heart attack. 

Mako:  I said I would come in five minutes. It was five minutes seven minutes ago. Dr. Gottlieb says to tell you that if you do not return to the briefing he will volunteer you in your absence for an unpleasant duty of some kind.

Newt:  I’m writing that off as a cost of doing business, by which I mean science, but thank you, Maks. Back up kiddo. Back up more.

Mako:  Here?

Newt:  More than that.

[sound of liquid hitting a floor type sound]

Skye:  [disgusted] Ugh.

Newt:  Do not get that particular bluish fluid on your suave biohazard outerwear. 

Skye:  What’s the point of contact precautions if—

Newt:  I just haven’t seen anything look quite that way before and I don’t like things that I’m not familiar with mixing with minors. I have an idea. How about you go and take Mako to lunch. 

Skye:   I have a PhD. You can’t just send me to lunch with your kid sister.

Newt:  I have six PhDs.

Skye:  You say that a lot.

Newt:  You’re the one trying to start a ridiculous argument with me, kid. Delta-doctorates is entirely irrelevant to the fact that I am your direct supervisor and I order you to take Mako to lunch. Also? Doctorate Differential makes a great band name. You can have that one for free.

Skye:  Thanks. You always make me leave for the cool parts.  

Newt:  Because that is the relationship that we have. You do boring, necessary things, like documentation, retrieving coffee, and exhaustive explorations of detoxified alien anatomy. I, in turn, shoulder professional risk. This is the nature of the science apprenticeship. Also, the science apprenticeship requires feeding the young people. Professional courtesy meets personal investment in your probably productive future. Like I said, I’d feel really bad if this is some form of uber-dilute kaiju Blue.

Mako:  Kaiju Blue is very dangerous.

Newt:  Good point, sub-intern, Mako. Why don’t you go wait for Skye on the other side of that door.

[door closes] 

Skye:  There’s no way that’s Blue. Is it? Because if it is—

Newt:  I don’t think so? This thing was soaked in formalin and chemically inactivated for years before we got it. Literally years. This is part of Reckoner, which was—

Skye:  2016. I remember. But even on the year-level penetration isn’t great in kaiju tissue, and this guy is from an era before we really knew that.   

Newt:  Thank you, Skye, but I am aware of that, as that’s my paper you’re referencing.

Skye:  When they detoxed this thing in Hong Kong they may not have scored and drained it adequately.

Newt:  The more you talk, the more I’m thinking you’re right and therefore the more I think I want you to take Maks out to lunch. 

Skye:  But—

Newt:  Go strip off your gown and gloves, go to my lab, find me the Blue assay kit, make sure everything’s there and all the tops on all the tubes are screwed all the way shut, box it in styrofoam, and then toss it to me from, like, a room away. 

Skye: Yes to assay kit, no to showering you with acetic acid, yes to toss-proof packaging. Got it.

Newt:  You’re my favorite scintern.

Skye:  I’m your only intern. Unless you count Mako.

Newt:  Mako’s just straight up my favorite. 

Narrator:  It was Dr. Geiszler’s preference to perform potentially dangerous work alone, in a quiet isolation room across the hall from his main lab space, noting his observations on a pocket voice recorder for late-night transcription. The facilities for studies in comparative kaiju anatomy at the Tokyo Shatterdome were state of the art: hermetically sealed with rapid air-recirculation and filtered venting to the outside, containing built-in oxygen sensors, toxin-detection systems, safety showers, a first aid kit, and multiple variants of PPDC-issued personal protective equipment. There was a wide window into the main hallway that could be rendered transparent or opaque with the idea that, when transparent, passers-by would identify any potential emergency. Unfortunately, after Dr. McLeod delivered the requested assay kit and took Mako Mori to lunch, there were very few passers-by, as the entire body of the K-science division was attending Dr. Lightcap’s mandatory meeting. Dr. Geiszler’s guitar, mounted on the wall of his office across the hall, had an excellent view of unfolding events. This, however, was no help to Dr. Geiszler. 

Newt: Note to self, weird bluish fluid is definitely not kaiju Blue, for evidence please see assay results documented by cellphone picture taken at thirteen thirty hours, August 2018 and transferred to subfolder Reckoner, specimen samples. Hmm. Good job on the detox, Dr. Leung, I never doubted you, even though my intern did a little bit, apparently.  

[subtle metal clicking sounds]

Newt:  Sooooo I am hypothesizing that this blue-tinged fluid that’s not kaiju Blue might actually be a non-toxic precursor that circulates in the lymphatic system-equivalent. I’ve never really been happy with kaiju-related immunological assumptions, but I’ll let that entire field alone for now and hope that some immunological baller has the time to get into it at some point in the relative near term, because it’s possible that we’re just seeing a system that looks like a terrestrial immune system but really? Its function is entirely different. I wonder what would happen if we just let one of these guys go for a little while. And by “guys” I mean “kaiju” and by “go for a little while” I mean “not kill it immediately.”  Maybe the common cold would take it down, War of the Worlds style. After, oh say, the observational subject demolished, like, an entire coastline, so maybe not. Bad idea. Redact that. Let’s pretend I never thought of it. I already get enough crap for this kind of thing. Yeah? What do you think, Reckoner? May I call you Reckoner? Given a chance, would Staph aureus kill you?

[sigh]

Newt:  Probably not, no, but that’s what I’ll tell myself in consolation if my civilization really starts to crash and burn, you feel me? Myeah. You feel me. Okay, again, note to self, fluid samples one through six collected and labeled with adjoining picture documentation between thirteen forty-five and thirteen fifty, August 2018. Sample entirely detoxed, confirmed by ultrasound, which was negative for all subcutaneous fluid collections. Fluid suctioned into stage-1 decon, no traces of kaiju blue or toxins of any kind, and therefore? Dr. Geiszler is getting out of this suit, which is hot, and only in the thermal way, alas. 

[The sound of an unzipping suit.]

Newt:  Okay. Note to self:  it’s fourteen hundred hours, I’m de-gloved, re-gloved, and still missing an interminable briefing. The overside of this limb was pretty well worked over by the Hong Kong team, who made a mess of it by the way, but hey, it was 2016, so what are you going to do. I’m about to make a ventral longitudinal incision measuring one point five meters. Pre-cut pic has been routed to the Reckoner sub-folder. 

[The sound of a scalpel dividing tissue; then the sound of a discharging nematocyst.]

Newt:  [pained yet simultaneously airy/offhand in delivery] Note to self, or, more probably, note to person who finds my dead body, I have discovered something interesting.

[The sound of rapid high pitched breathing.]

Newt:  Um, oh god, I feel weird. I feel kind of lightheaded. I think maybe I’ve been poisoned. Er, maybe I am being poisoned. I’m going to die, probably. Okay. That’s fine. Or, rather, I’d prefer not to die, but I think I might, given that I’ve got, um, something, possibly something horribly toxic kind of pinning my arm to my lab bench a little bit, in the most extreme sense of the word pin. As in, definitely, definitely passing through my arm, like all the way through, like, oh, yeah, er, I think I’m going to go with ‘impaling.’  Wow, these are really terrible last words. Okay. I’m going to do better.

[deep breath]

Newt:  Note to self, or to Lightcap. Hi Lightcap. Sorry about this. At approximately fourteen hundred hours I confirmed total detox to the tissue sample we received from Hong Kong via ultrasound. I therefore removed my biolevel 3 contact precautions, regloved, and made a ventral longitudinal incision at which point I triggered what I think is a kaiju-equivalent of a nematocyst, which, alas, happened to discharge straight into my left forearm, pass through it, and bury itself into the lab bench to an undetermined depth. Oh god, so, ah, from what I can see? This thing is made of a proteinaceous matrix that was spring-loaded or pressure loaded in some way? Possibly in much the same manner as a conventional terrestrial nematocyst. Um, scientific aside:  I don’t remember anyone describing this phenomenon before but it explains so much about some of the more esoteric damage reports from the pre-Jaeger days. The firing of nematocysts, especially if they were triggered in response to mechanical disruption might actually turn out to be a very effective anti-aircraft adaptation that then became obsolete over time as we altered our defensive tactics, to, you know, not include planes with planet-killing weapons. We don’t have a lot of samples from those early kaiju, primarily because they mostly ended their existences as radioactive Blue, ugh I would kill for a dermal sample of Trespasser right about now. Skye, look into this for me: Trespasser vis-a-vis Reckoner, re: dermal substructures. It’s right up your alley.  Okay, back to trying to help someone save my life. I’d say that this protein matrix passed straight through the soft tissue between my radius and ulna, although I’m not ruling out an ulnar break—the outside of my left hand is currently numb, which, you know, could be nerve damage and/or the slow leech of a neurotoxin. Those aren’t mutually exclusive. Then again, I did detoxify this thing, and it’s been sitting in formalin, so there’s the possibility that this is just a mechanical injury. That would be great for me. I would literally never skip a mandatory briefing ever again. I would learn my lesson. I would learn it so well.

[The sound of rapid breathing.]

Newt:  Of course, my phone is exactly two centimeters beyond the range of my right hand. That’s great. That’s just great. Anyway, Lightcap, if you’re wondering why I didn’t call anyone, that’s the reason. I could try to throw a shoe at the wall alarm but there is no way that’s going to work. If I were you, Lightcap, that would work. Yup, I’m gonna do it. 

[The sound of successive shoes hitting a distant wall.]

Newt:  Ugh, I hate not being you, Lightcap.

Newt:  That’s not even true. 

Newt:  Note to self. I feel like maybe I’m not being slowly poisoned? Like maybe I’m psychologically adjusting to the idea that part of me has been impaled by an alien nematocyst. Xenatocyst? That’s a better name. Still, risk analysis indicates that the likelihood of me dying is significantly greater than it was, oh, say, when I was sitting in the briefing, so I should probably use this time to document certain thoughts. For Lightcap. A) don’t give up on the remote interface when I die just because of the local culture of hands-on heroism. Killing monsters remotely is still killing monsters. B) stop tacitly encouraging Mako to die in a Jaeger, there are plenty of other ways to die that are slower and plenty of other people willing to step into one of those things, and how will you feel when she’s killed? Oh right. You won’t feel anything, because you’ll probably already be dead. C) I really recommend replacing me with someone pulled straight from academia; the global, ostensible nonmilitaristic structure of the PPDC has been hanging by a thread since its conception and you could easily destroy what minimal virtues it has. D)  Don’t pour too much funding into J-tech at the expense of K-science. You want to, I know you want to, but you’ll be kicking yourself if this is an evolutionary arms race. I know you think it’s not, but if it is, we’ve already lost. E)  I am willing all my Supercos related memorabilia to you, use your international fame to canonize me as a dead (nerd)rock star, will you? For Hermann:  A) Math is God. God is dead. Therefore, by the transitive property? Math is dead. B) Try not to miss me too much. C)  I know you think otherwise but—

Hermann:  Newton!  What is wrong with—oh god.

Newt:  Ugh. You are literally the last person I would have picked to walk through that door right now—no, don’t throw up. Don’t faint. Hey. Hey. I will be so angry if you pass out right now. If I can not pass out in this situation then you can. Not pass out. Okay? Yup. Put your head down. There ya go, champ. 

Hermann:  I’m calling Dr. Lightcap.

Newt:  Noooooo, we don’t need to call Dr. Lightcap, we just need to page, um, anyone but Lightcap, who is, at the moment, in the middle of a briefing, unless it’s over; are you here because it’s over?

Hermann:  It is not over. 

Newt:  Do not end Lightcap’s briefing for this, no, put down my phone, no, just tell them to page the decon team; I’m actually very senior in terms of the staffing here, I can totally oversee my own, um, decon, it’s—

Hermann:  [on the phone] Yes, I’d like to request an emergent overhead page.

Newt:  [weakly] just the decon team? 

Hermann:  A decon team, a medical team, and Dr. Lightcap.

Newt:  You are such a responsible jerk. 

Hermann:  [tightly] You are pinned to your own lab bench by a toxic piece of alien physiology.

Newt:  [pained sounding exhalation] Technically? Yes.

Overhead page:  [bored sounding page operator] Code Green, lab 2. Code Green, Lab two. Dr. Lightcap, lab 2. Dr. Lightcap lab 2.

Newt:  She’s going to know it’s me.

Hermann:  Literally everyone will know it’s you. Would you like a chair while we wait for someone to bring you a stretcher.

Newt:  No. I am fine.

Hermann:  Your arm is pinned to your lab bench.

Newt:  Can you not keep saying that? I’m trying not to look at it. Or visualize it. Or think about it at all.

Hermann:  Does it hurt?

Newt:  [waspishly] Does it look like it hurts, Hermann?

Hermann:  Yes, Newton, it does. I am trying to ascertain if you are experiencing sensory loss, you obtuse cad. Is it broken?

Newt:  The nematocyst? I can’t tell. The tip is probably damaged by the carbon-fiber base of the bench—I can’t feel it coming out the underside of the table. 

Hermann:  I meant your arm.

Newt:  Oh. Well, frankly, given that this thing is probably a hollow cylinder potentially full of toxin? The brokenness of the nematocyst concerns me more than the brokenness of my arm. But to answer your question…maybe? I don’t think so. I don’t think my bones are supposed to be as far apart as they are right now though.

[The sound of an opening door.]

Skye:  Ooooohhhhh shit.

Mako:  Newt!

Hermann:  And it is, of course, the children who have the fastest emergency response time. 

Newt:  Hey kids. Why are you here? Did you not hear the page? Did I not explain to you that code green pages are not for you? Um, go back to lunch. Now is not a good time for me. Or for science. 

Mako:  I will get the Marshal.

Newt:  Maks!  Maaaaaks. No. No need for that. Dr. Lightcap’s going to come help me out, she can tell the Marshal about this later, ideally in an understated, semi-humorous way, which is how I intend to remember it—

Hermann:  I think that is an excellent idea, Ms. Mori. 

Newt:  You’re trying to get me fired.

Hermann:  What was your first clue.

Newt:  Whoa. Hold it there, Dr. McLeod, what are you doing?

Skye:  Chill. I’m not going to touch anything. At first glance, dude, it seems like this thing in your arm is connected to a toxin sac.

Hermann:  Bloody fantastic.

Newt:  Myeeaaaaaah, that seems reasonable to me.

Skye:  I think you got it though. It’s cut through. I think you detoxed the sac itself.

Newt:  [weakly] I am awesome.

Skye:  There could be a very small amount of residual toxin within the shaft itself though.

Newt:  Well, obviously. Could I have that chair, maybe?

[Sound of the door crashing open. The medical team begins speaking beneath the overlying dialogue.]

[Medic 1:  Looks like we’re going to be working in here, people, and we’re assuming toxic exposure. Let’s get baseline vitals and get him on a set of monitors.

Medic 2:  Go this way with the stretcher, yeah, and lock it. 

Medic 1:  Hand me the pads, yup, just in case. Crack open the morphine and draw it up, we’re probably going to need it.

Medic 3:  Heart rate 120, BP 160/90, O2 sat 100%.

Decon crew 1:  You guys need to be in baseline protective gear.

Decon crew 2:  I’m not detecting any kind of release, neither are room sensors; if there’s anything to decon it’s in his arm.

Medic 2:  leads in place.]  

Lightcap:  God damn it, Geiszler, god damn it.

Newt:  Liiiightcap.

Hermann:  Consider berating him later.

Lightcap:  Gottlieb, what are you doing here. Never mind, I don’t care. Newt, fucking hell shit, look at me, kiddo, look at my face. What the hell is in your arm?

Newt:  I think it’s a kaijuesque equivalent of a nematocyst? Poisoned-dart-type thing?

Lightcap:  Poisioned?

Newt:  Well, in a perfect world, no, not anymore. I performed a full detox. But full disclosure? Previously? Prior to said detoxification? Yes, probably poisoned, unfortunately. 

Skye:  The thing in his arm is contiguous with an empty sac that likely held some kind of toxic substance. I the cylindrical protein matrix might be hollow.

[hollow knocking sound]

Newt:  [strangled scream, then breathlessly] Can you not do that?

Skye:  It’s hollow.

Lightcap:  So when we pull it out of his arm we’re going to need to not. Crack. It.

Newt:  [still breathlessly]  In case it’s got any residual toxin, yes. Dr. McLeod, would you care to unbolt the bone saw from the wall?

Hermann:  Your solution seems a bit extreme, doesn’t it?

Newt:  It’s not for me, Hermann. It’s for the nematocyst.

Skye:  On it.

Lightcap:  You want to cut laterally across that thing? Shear stress might still crack it, and, if there’s a column inside there full of fluid, anything above the cut is going to pour down over your arm. I think we’ve got to pull this thing out intact. 

Newt:  No. No way. It’s already got to be cracked at the base, where it ran into the carbon fiber of the table. I think Dr. McLeod is going to have to cut below my arm. Between my arm and the table.

Lightcap:  No baby. We’re lifting this thing out. We’re not cutting. Also? Jesus Christ, medical team, what are you doing? Can you not give him something for pain? He has a poisoned protein column through his arm. Does he look comfortable to you?

Medical team:  No ma’am. 

Newt:  [weakly] Er, belay that, med team, you’re doing a great job, and I actually think I’d like to be conscious, to make sure Lightcap doesn’t kill me with well-intentioned scientific machismo, thanks.

Hermann:  Dr. Lightcap, I don’t think your plan is viable. I concur with Dr. Geiszler—there is a virtual certainty you would be lifting a cracked tip, possibly leaking toxin, through his forearm were you to attempt to pull this thing out the way it came in. 

Lightcap:  Well if you two are in agreement, fine. Baby-face, you get the final call—after all, it’s your arm. Cost/benefit-wise I think I’d rather drag the cracked tip of a poisoned shaft through my forearm than open a potentially pressurized column of pure toxin directly over or under an open wound.

Newt:  [with a pained stiffness] I weight my risk analyses differently than you weight yours, Lightcap.

Hermann:  There is, of course, a preferred solution. 

Newt:  Well are you going to share with the class?

Hermann:  We slide a piece of sheet metal beneath your arm and then insert a spacer between the sheet metal and the table. This will expose more of the shaft. It can then be cut, laboriously, and by hand, with your diamond-bladed bone saw at enough of a distance so that if any toxin is released it will likely not contact your skin.

Newt:  [weakly impressed] You want to jack my forearm off the table like you’re jacking up a car with a flat tire. I like it. Maybe I’ll live. 

Lightcap:  You like it? I love it.

Newt:  It occurs to me that this is actually going to hurt quite a lot as it separates and possibly breaks the bones in my forearm. 

Hermann:  Yes, I believe it will.

Newt:  Try not to enjoy this too much, Dr. Gottlieb.

Hermann:  Oh do shut up. 

Lightcap:  [kindly] Next time, kiddo, just come to the briefing, yeah? Rather than impaling yourself with a newly discovered dermal structure?

Newt:  [with weak theatricality] If I die, please ensure it’s named after me.

Hermann:  We will certainly do nothing of the kind, I therefore recommend you endeavor not to die.

Newt:  Why are you still here, even. You hate this kind of thing.

Lightcap:  [dryly] I think Dr. Gottlieb’s life would be empty and meaningless without you to torment.

Hermann:  There is, perhaps, some truth to that.

Newt:  Now I know I’m dying.

Narrator:  Dr. Geiszler did not die. He did spend four hours pinned to his lab bench while his summer intern sawed carefully through the nematocyst. During this interval he received a PPDC issue box of apple juice courtesy of Mako Mori, an abbreviated verbal reprimand from Marshal Pentecost, a string of anxious commentary from Dr. Lightcap, and the sustained presence of Dr. Gottlieb, punctuated by sardonic asides. Dr. McLeod succeeded in cutting through the protein matrix. To the relief of all present, no toxic fluid was released in the process. Dr. Geiszler spent five days in quarantine on broad-spectrum antibiotics, which was, perhaps, not strictly necessary, but generally agreed to be a wise course of action. Dr. McLeod received a standing job offer from Dr. Lightcap for maintaining his ‘west coast cool’ under pressure. Mako Mori received instructions from Marshal Pentecost to ‘spend less time with Dr. Geiszler.’  Dr. Gottlieb refrained from commenting on the incident until after Dr. Geiszler had been released from the medical bay, had returned to his office, and was staring at his ceiling, playing dissonant chords on his guitar.

[dissonant chord]

Hermann:  Must you do that?

[dissonant chord]

Hermann:  Newton.

Newt:  Oh. Hey. Sorry. Headphones.

Hermann:  Desist.

Newt:  Nice to see you too. 

Hermann:  How is your arm?

Newt:  [understated] Not really up to strumming for a prolonged period of time, but pretty okay, actually, thanks for asking. I will be pipetting like a pro in the relative near term.

Hermann:  [trending toward upset] I hope you have learned something from this experience.

Newt:  [acidly] Yes, Dr. Gottlieb, a chance occurrence has reorganized my worldview and I have, in fact, spent the past five days building a psychological temple to unthinking obedience where I will ritualistically sacrifice my time unto authority figures everywhere; you will be so proud.

Hermann: [with a slow build from indignation to genuine upset] You are a thoughtless, irresponsible, arrogant, child of a so-called scientist who flaunts his flouting of bureaucratic ephemera for no other reason than he finds it appeals to his prodigious sense of intellectual vanity. You are not a ‘rock star’, you are, on your better days, a scientist. Avoiding mandatory meetings does not make you a visionary iconoclast; it makes you an idiot. You nearly died. You should be fired. If I were Dr. Lightcap I would have sent you back to academia months ago, years ago, you do not belong in an organization such as this, you are not suited to it—

Narrator: Dr. Geiszler was curious as to how long his colleague’s monologuing might continue in the absence of external influence. He therefore confined himself to the unimpressed elevation of a single eyebrow and said nothing. Dr. Gottlieb continued in this manner for nearly two hours. 

Hermann:  [continuing breathlessly] you do not take any of this with the gravity it deserves, you never have, you likely never will. Despite what happened earlier in the week, I am certain that you will not change, that you will never change and that this place will never change to fit you. You never should have left JET Force, you never should have joined JET Force. Go back to MIT; they liked you there, god knows why, they appreciated you and did not mind the way you took them for granted; I don’t know why you ever came here, honestly, you can study the kaiju from Boston you can surround yourself with people who view your body art as a growing tapestry of irony rather than those who view it as a personal assault to human decency. You can get out because you’re incompatible with this place, with it’s ethos. Do you have anything to say for yourself? After all of this?

Narrator:  The content of Dr. Gottlieb’s speech painted an inaccurate picture of Dr. Geiszler, who, in fact, had an excellent track record of laboratory safety in a dangerous field, always met his bureaucratic deadlines, and consistently demonstrated an impeccable work ethic, if his latest personnel evaluation was to be believed. And it was. Dr. Geiszler gained only one real insight from Dr. Gottlieb’s prolonged rant.

Newt:  I had no idea you cared so much. 

Hermann:  That is not the point, Newton. 

Narrator:  It was, of course, exactly the point. Later that same evening, Dr. Geiszler went in search of Dr. Lightcap, who was drinking alone on the end of the deployment dock. 

Lightcap:  Hi baby.

Newt:  You have selected an unsanctioned sobriquet, Cait-Science, but hi.

Lightcap:  Don’t fall over.

Newt:  I’m not even. I’m just sitting. On purpose. With less coordination than you, but not less coordination than expected.   

Lightcap:  If you say so. Are you wearing that sling as a fashion accessory? I definitely saw you messing around with your guitar earlier today. 

Newt:  Well it’s just that it matches my outfit so nicely. All the medical people agree that a) occupational therapy, aka guitar strumming, is entirely reasonable, b) slings are useful for avoiding Tendo’s propensity to throw things at me that I catch, or, realistically, try to catch, with my dominant and injured hand, c) these two facts taken together tell you literally everything you need to know.

Lightcap:  How’s the arm.

Newt:  It wants a beer.

Lightcap:  We can handle that.

[sound of opening caps and clinking glass]

Lightcap:  [with some gravity] I want to tell you something.

Newt:  You’re not my type, Lightcap. I am, however, outrageously, just outrageously flattered.

Lightcap:  Oh but you’re my type though, little minion, and that’s all that matters. 

Newt:  Er—

Lightcap:  [laughing] I wish I had a camera. So much.

Newt:  [aggrieved] Shut up, Lightcap. God.

Lightcap:  [still laughing] Then stop ironically playing the dick card because your arm hurts and you feel like an idiot after getting a vicious lecture from Dr. Gottlieb.

Newt:  All right all right all right. You heard that, did you.

Lightcap:  I just walked on by.

Newt:  Good call, probably. 

Lightcap:  Mmm hmm.

Newt:  You wanted to tell me a thing?

Lightcap:  I don’t think I want to anymore. You’re not in the mood, I can tell. 

Newt:  Lightcap.

Lightcap:  I’ll tell you some other time.

Newt:  Lightcap.

Lightcap:  I’ll tell you never.

Newt:  This is very aggravating.

Lightcap:  You deserve it.

Newt: Tell me the thing.

Lightcap:  One two, buckle my shoe. Three four, shut the fucking door. And don’t let it hit your ass on the way off my deployment doc.

Newt:  I am not interested in that plan as outlined. You promised my much-abused left arm a beer. Now spill.

Lightcap:  I don’t want to. I’m not drunk enough, I don’t think. 

Newt:  [gently] Lightcap.

Lightcap:  [angrily/tearfully] You came in here, you little shit, and you told me I was going to die and that when I did, you were going to take my job and I believed you. Your second week you told me that; you blazingly arrogant fuck. I believed you even then. I relied on that, Geiszler, you bastard, you absolute bastard, and then what. You spend two years, two years making yourself indispensible, not just to K-science but to the rigs. To my rig. To J-tech. To the idea of a remote interface and then? After all of that? After all your sanctimonious, endless preaching: ‘you’ll kill yourself, Lightcap,’ ‘let someone else do it, Lightcap,’ ‘you persist because you’re selfish, Lightcap,’ after all of that—what the fuck do you go and fucking do?

[The sound of a breaking bottle, then silence.]

Newt:  I feel like I heard this talk once already today.

Lightcap:  No baby. Not this talk. That was just the opener.

Newt: Are you firing me?

Lightcap:  No. No, of course not.

[Silence. The sound of wind and sea.]

Lightcap:  I listened to your voice recorder after the decon team cleared it. You’ve got a little more poise under pressure than I would have given you credit for. Not a lot more, but a little more.

Newt:  [dryly] Thanks.

Lightcap:  It was horrible, listening to it. I wish I hadn’t. [whispered] I was so proud of you.

Newt:  Tell that to Dr. Gottlieb, maybe.

Lightcap:  Shut up. Did you get yourself into a horrible situation? Yes. Yes you did. That part of it was really fucking stupid. Did you do a good job once you were in that situation? Yes. You did. I was proud of you. And don’t give me your affected I’m-too-cool-for-Lightcap’s-genuine-emotions tone, Geiszler, I saw the exact same sentiment on your face when your wunderkind intern cut through that protein matrix. You did great, kiddo. You thought you were going to die and you held it together to leave something useful behind. 

Newt:  Thanks.

Lightcap:  Yah.

Newt:  So, was that the thing you wanted to tell me, because I—

Lightcap:  [high pitched] Nope. Feelings are always the easy part. Truth is harder. For me, I guess. For me, right now. Because what are feelings, kiddo, really, other than just how we feel? Not all that important in the grand scheme of things. 

Newt:  I guess?

Lightcap:  Do you ever see events rolling out like a road in front of you, probabilities and trends coming together into outcomes that you just can’t escape? That are, inherently, inescapable?

Newt:  [quietly] You can escape, Caitlin. I guarantee you that you can. It might not seem that way. But you—

Lightcap:  [tearful]  No baby. I can’t. I can’t. But for just a minute there, when I had your stupid voice recorder in my hand, and I was listening to you, I could see whole futurescapes unmake and shift until I was looking at one where I was alive and you weren’t and I was trying to find someone else to do the things that you said you could do, that you promised me you could do. Someone else to make the things happen that you would have made happen and I just felt—so tired. Because you’re right. I mean, there won’t be consensus on this for far too long, but—I can already see the same thing you can, kiddo. They’re adapting. They’re changing in a progressive way. The kaiju. It’s harder every time. We won’t win my way. They’ll beat us out. If they’re really changing in the way you think they’re changing, if they’re being evolved, or selected, if this is an arms race—then you’re right. We’ll need something else. Something better. Something more.

Newt:  So get out of that Jaeger and help me think of something.

Lightcap:  I can’t. I can’t. I won’t.

Newt:  Why.

Lightcap:  Why should I? I’m good at it. I’m fantastic. I created this system and I’m going to see it down. Every part of it. 

Newt:  You’re not going to see it down. You’re not going to see it through. You’re not going to see it at all if you don’t get out of that thing. Away from it’s shielding like a sieve and its escape hatch that doesn’t exist and the waterproofing job that could be a whole hell of a lot better. You’re going to die in that thing, Lightcap. You’re going to be consumed. You’re going to be crushed to death. You’re going to drown. You’re going to bleed to death inside a suit bolting you to a metal frame. 

Lightcap:  Everyone dies, baby. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?

Newt:  Yes.

Lightcap:  [very gently] But did they though?

[Silence. The sound of the sea.]

Lightcap:  Maybe not. Let me tell you something about death, kiddo, since it seems to concern you so much. Did you know that I’ve already killed every single one of my experimental test subjects? Including myself? Including the man I married?  

Newt:  That’s nonsensical.

Lightcap:  There was no shielding. Early on, before you came. In 2014? We started without adequate shielding from the radioactive cores of the prototypes. Every single one of us is going to die anyway. Ten years at the absolute outside. So why should I hang up my helmet? Why should I step out of this place that I made for myself—doing what I’m good at, defending my planet in the way that I conceived. Whether this is the solution I hope it is or the stop-gap I fear it is, all that I’ve built is mine. Mine. And I’m going to crest and fall right along with it. This is who I am. This is what I could make. We’re sitting on it. This dock. This shatterdome. These machines. The drift. That’s what I’ve got, kiddo. That’s all I’ve got. The next brilliant idea that comes, if it comes, is going to have to come from the next brilliant person. From you. From Gottlieb. From your little intern. Who knows. But not from me. All that you see is all that I am. 

Newt:  You’ve as good as straight-up admitted that we need another approach. What the hell is this, Lightcap; is this you trying to leave that to me? Because that is not okay with me. You can’t just abdicate your massive, metal science throne. No matter how many kaiju you kill, you will never get a free pass on that. Do you understand me? I will never stop telling you to get out of that Jaeger. Not. Ever.

Lightcap:  I know. And that’s fine, kiddo. I think you might be the only person I know who’s out there, feeding his bitter little fire on my behalf. Everyone else just thinks it’s great. And it is great. What I’m doing. It just—doesn’t feel that way sometimes. 

Newt:  And what’s so great about it? Your misallocation of resources? The way you personally prioritize killing alien life over studying it? Your warped assessment of personal risk?  

Lightcap:  [whispered] You know it’s not really any of those things. Don’t make me say. That’s not fair. 

Newt:  Lightcap—

Lightcap:  You’re a weird mix, little minion. Arrogant. Bitter. Manipulative. Snide. Sarcastic. A little bit histrionic. A little bit starry eyed. A kind-hearted, fair-minded, anti-authoritarian, romantic idealist who makes friends with an eleven year old and tries to interest her in fish and playing the bass rather than killing monsters which is the one thing she wants more than anything in this entire world. I don’t think I’ve ever figured you out. I don’t think I ever will. But you know, you’ve always struck me as a guy who’ll go right to the end. Not the end you make for yourself in one manner or another, but to the actual end. You’re the guy who’ll be trying to live right until the very last screaming second of his existence. I love that about you. Don’t let anyone beat it out of you and don’t kill yourself in a freak lab accident before Dr. Gottlieb figures out how to shut that breach. You wait in the wings, kiddo, okay? When I die, you make sure no one else climbs my science throne before you do. You keep my program going until you can’t anymore and then you find the next thing that will work. Not the next thing in the pipe but the next thing that you honestly think will work. 

Newt:  This is not the kind of advice that I need, Lightcap.

Lightcap:  It’s not advice. It’s what you’ll feel you owe me after one of those things finally takes me down. 

Newt:  Stop looping me into your penchant for morbid prophecy. I’m not into it. Get out of that Jaeger. Get out of it or you’ll die. You’ve done your time. You’ve paid your ethical dues. Spend your days thinking and maybe we can win this war and someone will cure whatever kind of cancer you end up getting.

Lightcap:  Truculent, adorkable optimist. I should have added that to my list. Baby, I don’t want to tell you half the things I see you facing down in the next five years, the next ten. I don’t want to see what it does to you at the end; the way you see what it’s done to me. I just want to know that you’ll be there to do it.

Newt:  I will.

Lightcap:  [whispered] Good.

Narrator:  The summer faded into fall. Dr. Lightcap’s carefully delineated goals were met week after week. The kaiju transited the breach in ever shorter increments, and Skye McLeod left Tokyo to return to the American Inland, accepting a post-doc position at Harvard. In his absence, Mako Mori’s bass playing declined precipitously. Dr. Geiszler’s guitar was frequently employed in an effort to convince her to practice. It met with little success.

Newt:  Dr. McLeod was an only so-so drummer. You can jam with me, Maks. I’m not a regular scientist; I’m a cool scientist.

Mako:  I do not wish to practice now.

[brief strumming of Evangeline chords]

Newt:  You sure?

Mako:  I am sure.

Newt:  Well fine, you can mix up some buffers then, sub-intern Mori. I’m running low on PBS. Science doesn’t do itself you know. That did not sound right. Disregard that. Sooooooo any plans for the weekend?

Mako:  [sadly] No.

Newt:  You hear from Skye?

Mako:  Yes. He is very happy in Cambridge. There are no kaiju there.

Newt:  So true. Maybe you should go to Cambridge. Did you ever think of that? I could get you into MIT with the click of a button. Well, technically, I would first have to type an email that I would send with a click of a button. I could get you in. 

Mako:  I want to be a Jaeger pilot, not go to MIT. Why do you think Skye does not write unless I write to him first?

Newt:  Oh boy. Ummm—

Mako:  He does not like me.

Newt:  No, I’m pretty sure he likes you, just—

Mako:  Not enough.

Newt:  Well, straight-up, kiddo? Myeah. I think you’re probably right. Not enough.

Mako:  Why? Please explain. You have liked girls before? What makes you like them or not like them and how much.

Newt:  Well, in the spirit of technical accuracy, Maks, I tend to ‘like’ guys, but, in my experience, people seem to be people, so everything still applies. A lot of times it’s not them, you know? It’s not hypothetical guy x that’s like bang [insert a single snap] destiny. First off it has a lot to do with my own head, and for whole huge spans of my life I just haven’t even been looking for a romantic relationship. 

Mako:  Because of science?

Newt:  Um, no. I have not sexualized the scientific method; I’m pretty sure you’re thinking of Dr. Gottlieb. I’m kidding, Maks; do not tell him I said that. Though he’d probably be complimented. Ha. Also do not tell the Marshal that I said, ‘sexualized the scientific method.’  

Mako:  [annoyed] I have learned what to tell and what not to tell, Newt.

Newt:  Okay okay okay. Everyone’s brains are wired differently. Everyone’s neurons fire differently. That firing can change that wiring and the wiring can then change that firing. You hit bedrock at some point when you start asking the selfhood questions, kiddo, but it just happens to turn out that I have a low interest in sexual activity at baseline. I just feel kind of ‘meh’ about it most of the time with a few notable exceptions that are always particular guys that I already happened to like. As humans. For one reason or another. But that’s just me. It works for me. I’m cool with it. So, going from specific case: me, to general case: Random Boy who we’ll call ‘Randoy’, it’s really hard for you or for anyone to know what’s happening in Randoy’s head. Right? I mean, this guy is complicated. Maybe he likes girls. Maybe he likes boys. Maybe he likes both. Maybe he likes neither. Maybe he’s into romance. Maybe he’s not into romance. Maybe he’s into sex. Maybe he’s not. Maybe he thinks he shouldn’t be the ‘boy’ everyone has told him that he is. Maybe he’s still thinking about things. Brains are so weird, Maks. Even when you think you’ve got a handle on something, so so so often? It turns out that you don’t. Memories remodel every time we remember them. No one really understands the hard problem of consciousness. Is your whole perception that you’re a conscious individual with agency just a byproduct of your own neuronal circuitry? Life is weird. And cool. And so so weird, Maks. Mostly weird. The question of why isn’t Skye McLeod pestering Mako Mori with phone calls every hour of the day just hopelessly complex.   

Mako:  That is not satisfying. Skye likes girls. I know he does.

Newt:  Did you guys talk about this?

Mako:  Well, we didn’t talk about all the things you said but we talked about some things. He said I was pretty. Pretty and ‘awesome.’

Newt:  Well you are awesome, Maks. Like, literally everyone agrees about that. But here’s the other part of the question. Let’s now replace Random Boy with Actual Skye. That sounds misleading. Real Skye. Equally bad. Skye the Guy. Skye the Guy, in addition to his attraction level toward you and his romantic feelings for you, and all the other complicated baseline responses he’s going to have to your appearance, actions, and demeanor, also has other players in his brain besides you. Comparative anatomy. His continuing education. Love of science. A very genuine interest in the PPDC’s diamond-bladed bone saw. So he has goals and you have goals, which I’m sure you told him about.

Mako:  Yes. Yes, I told him all of it.

Newt:  All of it all of it?

Mako:  All of it. About my family and about the Marshal and how I want to go to the Jaeger Academy and how Dr. Lightcap says I can if I work hard.

Newt:  That’s good, Maks. I think it’s good to tell these kind of things. You’ve got a better track record than I do already. So you told him your real goals. Did he tell you his goals?

Mako:  Yes. He said that he wants to do research and he wants to be a professor because he loves science and he wants to help to understand the kaiju because it’s so important that we really make an effort to learn all we can about the first extra-terrestrial life that we have encountered as a species. 

Newt:  Aw, Skye the Guy. Super fly.

Mako:  Yes.

Newt:  Did you guys talk about relationship goals?

Mako:  What relationship goals. If we love each other we should just want to be together.

Newt:  Whoa, Maks, you can’t just drop that one in like a rock. Well, you can, actually. You did. Would you say you’re in love with him?

Mako:  Yes. Why do you think I am asking you these things?

Newt:  Aw, kiddo, well—

Mako:  Do not tell.

Newt:  Who am I going to tell? The Marshal? He tries to talk to me as little as possible I’m pretty—

Mako:  Dr. Lightcap. Do not tell Dr. Lightcap.

Newt:  I’m not going to tell Lightcap. I’m not going to tell anyone, Maks. Chill. Quick question though, did you tell him that you loved him?

Mako:  No. I read to not do that.

Newt:  Ah. Wait, you read it? Where are you reading these things, Maks?

Mako:  Online.

Newt:  Okay, well, it’s probably good to take it slow, generally speaking.

Mako:  But why is he not calling?  

Newt:  Well, kiddo, in addition to life goals, and, look, I can’t say for sure, but it’s possible he might find yours a little scary, there’s also relationship goals to consider. Maybe now is not a great time for Skye McLeod to have a girlfriend. Also? He might feel that he’s a little old for you—

Mako:  I am fourteen. He is just barely sixteen. We are only one year apart.

Newt:  Eh, you’re a year and a half apart, Maks, and that’s kind of a far distance in your teens. 

Mako:  We are both very mature. He saved you with his bone saw.

Newt:  Technically that was my bone saw, Mako, but yes. I see your point. I do. I see it. You’re missing my point though, which is a general point, not a specific one. Your relationship goals have to line up before you can really put yourselves together and let your wave functions interfere for a while to see if they’re interfering constructively or destructively, you feel me? You need that alignment of goals first, kiddo, to ever get a real shot at it. And, from the outside, from what you’re telling me, it seems like you guys never quite made it there. 

Mako:  Have you ever made a constructive thing?

Newt:  Nooooo. I’ve done some interfering in my day though.

Mako:  I do not think that my relationship goals and Skye’s relationship goals were the same.

Newt:  Probably not, no. 

Mako:  [sadly] But I think that we could have made a good wave function.

Newt:  Maybe. The first time you give the romance thing a try and it doesn’t work out is always hard, Maks. It feels pretty crap.

Mako:  Yes.

Newt:  Did you talk to the Marshal about any of this?

Mako:  Yes. He says that Skye McLeod is stupid and he bought me ice cream. 

Newt:  Ha. Well, look, he’s not wrong.

Mako:  He did not talk about wave functions though.

Newt:  Well, no one’s perfect.

Mako:  You have different kinds of advice.

Newt:  I won’t ask you whose advice is better, I’m just going to assume I know the answer. Also? He’s cheating. I could buy you ice cream, Maks. You want some ice cream?

Mako:  No.

Newt:  Want to watch Blue Planet?

Mako:  No.

Newt:  Well good. Me neither. How about—

Mako:  I do not wish to do anything.

Newt:  Your bass playing could really use some work. I’m beginning to doubt your commitment to rockstardom.

Mako:  I wish to be a Jaeger pilot. That is what I will be.

Newt:  Well, yeah, so you’ve said, but you shouldn’t decide now, Maks. You should—

Mako:  Do not say what I should do. You decided what to do when you were younger than me. When you were eight. You left home when you were eight.

Newt:  Well, kind of? I’m a bad standard of comparison, Mako, I—

Mako:  Skye McLeod chose the same way. He is only sixteen and he has a PhD already. 

Newt:  So, what, you’re going to go to the Jaeger Academy tomorrow? You have to be eighteen kiddo, so why don’t you maybe develop some other skill sets in the meantime while you think about it.

Mako:  I do not want other skill sets. 

Newt:  Mako—

Mako:  You do not understand. 

Newt:  Yeah, obviously. Maybe I’m finally getting old. What do you think, Maks? Am I old yet?

Mako:  No, Newt. I am getting old.

Newt:  Don’t do that, Maks.

Mako:  I can’t be your assistant anymore. I have signed up for karate after school.

Newt:  Well fine. But be careful of your hands. Don’t endanger your back-up career as a bassist. If you can’t play the base, I’ll leave you on the street, Maks. On the street. That’s a lie. I’d let you be a roadie.

Mako:  [fiercely] I am going to be a Jaeger pilot.

Newt:  Okay, okay, okay. Okay. When does karate start?

Mako:  Tomorrow.

Newt:  Well you can still make up those buffers for me, then. 

Mako:  Yes. Today, I can.

Narrator:  In late September, the primary base of PPDC scientific operations was relocated from Tokyo to Seattle in order to take advantage of the emerging powerhouse of cognition research at the University of Washington. Most of the K-science and J-tech personnel were transferred. On October 21, Dr. Lightcap and her husband threw a combined anniversary/housewarming party. They had been married for one year. They invited all of the senior staff from every division of the PPDC. Dr. Geiszler’s guitar was extended a special invitation. 

[The sound of a party. Sound of Debaser played distantly on electric guitar.]

Stacker:  Congratulations, Cait. Like what you’ve done with the place.

Lightcap:  Thanks, Stacker. 

Mako:  Happy Anniversary, Dr. Lightcap.

Lightcap:  Thank you, baby. I heard from our martial arts instructor that you can kick the shit out of a board. Damn it. Sorry. [regrouping] I heard you can break a board with your foot. 

Mako:  Yes. I can break two stacked boards now. 

Stacker:  She’s a natural.

Lightcap:  Good for you, Mako.

[Sound of Debaser, continues and then abruptly falls off. Newt continues to irregularly strum his guitar under the following dialogue.]

Newt:  [drunkenly]  I feel, like, really bad for Alfred Russell Wallace, you know? I mean, look, I have emo love for Charles Darwin, I kind of have to; it’s a professional requirement but, like, Wallace literally sends his paper to, like, the one guy in the entire world who’s going to scoop him? That’s just, well, okay it’s not exactly just really really terrible luck, like, really terrible, but um, I mean you feel me.

Hermann:  [also drunkenly] I do. Honestly though, Newton, my most profound sympathies have to go to the dead ones.

Newt:  [careful whisper] Hermann. 

Hermann:  [also whispered] What.

Newt:  [still whispering] I want you to brace yourself. Wallace? Is dead. So is Darwin, for that matter. 

Hermann:  [disgusted, normal volume] I am talking about the ones that died for reasons related to their work. Giordano Bruno. Marie Curie. Antoine Lavoisier. 

Newt:  I’m pretty sure he was just rich during the French Revolution.

Hermann:  Well, I’m ‘pretty sure’ he was killed for trying to assist Joseph Louis Lagrange, who, if you ever took calculus, which I doubt—

Newt:  Oh I took calculus. I, in fact, I took calculus before you did, I’m pretty sure. Are you going to win, in a math-off? Yes. I admit that. Are you going to win in an awesome-off? No. I do not admit that.

Lightcap:  Oh my god, you guys are so adorable when you’re drunk, it almost looks like you’re friends.

Newt:  Cait-Science!  We’re just, like, sitting next to each other, randomly. Stochastically. Random on the quantum level. 

Hermann:  An entirely chance occurrence. Read nothing into it.

Lightcap:  Uh huh.

Newt:  You’re so adorable when you’re drunk, how about. Not even scary. Just so married and so normal and so wearing nice shoes.

Lightcap:  Geiszler, you’re supposed to be singing for ambiance, not half-assedly playing Debaser and crying over dead scientists.

Newt:  How about no.

Lightcap:  How about yes.

Hermann:  He’s realized that you’re his only fan, you see.

Lightcap:  That not even true.

Newt:  It’s a little bit true. I give up music for science every day of my life.

Hermann:  I also don’t think he sings for ‘ambiance’.

Newt:  That is also true, Dr. Gottlieb, thanks for noticing. Yes. I sing only if everyone is listening to me, only if Mako is going to throw glitter, and only if I am alone in the lab.

Hermann:  Or if you believe yourself to be alone in the lab.

Newt:  Yes, or if I believe myself that I’m alone in the lab.

Lightcap:  Oh my god. Oh my god. Geissszzlerrrr!

Newt:  Aw, you want to sing, Lightcap? By now I have literally every song you know in my repertoire. Unless you’re keeping whole swaths of your musical taste secret from me because you don’t want me to judge you.

[Newt invitingly plays the opening to Debaser on the guitar.] 

Lightcap:  I’m going to pass. If you guys have a drunken make out session, please document it in some way for the ongoing shatterdome pool. Later, losers.  

Newt:  I think that was an inappropriate comment. For like five reasons. Or at least two.

Hermann:  I couldn’t agree more.

Newt:  She just walked away. She can’t do that.

Hermann:  Evidence indicates otherwise.

Newt:  [shouting at Lightcap] You document your erotic activities, how about.

Newt:  I probably should not have shouted that.

Hermann:  Really, Newton, at this point I don’t think it matters.

Newt:  I’m too far-gone, is what you’re saying. I will never rehabilitate my image into something respectable.

Hermann:  That is, indeed, the general, sort of, landscape, if you will, that I am suggesting. 

Newt:  Your landscape seems really polite to me. I’m actually very responsible if you use a metric other than yourself or like, anyone in the military. Like, I’m probably a little bit more responsible than Tendo?

Hermann:  Oh I don’t think so. 

Newt:  Come on.

Hermann:  You are more responsible than that fellow who runs the IT department, what’s his name?

Newt: Jad? The Jad who takes pictures of his food every day in the mess hall, gives me status updates on my aura, plays the trombone, badly, at K-science power hour, wears candy bracelets, and avoids shoes on Friday ‘because of reasons’? That guy?

Hermann:  Yes.

Newt:  Well, first of all, Hermann, I have had exactly zero IT related problems since I’ve joined the PPDC, so it seems that Jad, despite his dubious demeanor, is probably actually pretty competent. You shouldn’t be so judgmental. At a minimum, he’s anecdotally competent. 

Hermann:  He seems competent because my division has taken over all network maintenance due to our bandwith requirements for offsite data analysis.

Newt:  [interested]  Have you really.

Hermann:  Yes.

Newt:  Well that explains a lot about why Jad seems to have so much free time. He’s been photographing my plants quite a bit lately. He’s been working on a terrarium in the back of my labspace. He needs to put it there because his office doesn’t have windows. 

Hermann:  I knew the two of you would be friends.

Newt:  Jad’s a solid guy.

Hermann:  You are making my point.

Newt:  Just because I’m friends with Jad does not mean that he and I have approximately the same responsibility level. What does that even mean. You’re committing some kind of fallacy. Like, fallacy of proximity. Fallacy of two guys just both having unusual hair in a shatterdome full of people with really boring hair. Because that’s a thing. Fallacy of plant bonding.

Hermann:  This entire conversation is pointless. 

Newt:  Agreed. I feel like we used to be having a real one though. What happened.

Hermann:  I’m sure I don’t know.

Newt: Lightcap happened is what happened.

Hermann:  [long suffering sigh]

Newt:  I’m going to follow up on a thing. Hold my guitar.

Hermann:  No.

Newt:  Yes. Just hold it, it won’t bite you.

Narrator:   Dr. Gottlieb would later think often of that night, often of that guitar from 2009, its blue finish, its left handed chirality, the butterfly sticker that Mako Mori had affixed to its back when she was eleven. He would think often of that particular party, with a strange in medias res sense of fondness. He would remember his colleagues as young—before the rise of the Wall and the change in their fortunes. He would remember the arrangement of clean, white rooms in Dr. Lightcap’s house, the bright yellow cast of the light, the cheerful flux of the people. He would remember the contrast of blue-on-white as he leaned the guitar against the wall of Dr. Lightcap’s living room before he went in search of his colleague. He found him in the kitchen.

Newt:  [still drunkenly] Cait-Science, Cait-Science. It’s embarrassing we don’t yet have a remote interface. Like, as a species. I am embarrassed for our species. It pains me. Literally every day.

Lightcap:  [also drunkenly] If it pains you, my little Prince of an Alien Xenome, how do you think it feels for me? I always wanted that, you know I always wanted that—right from the beginning. But I gave it up because it wasn’t workable.

Hermann:  Back at this again, are we?

Newt:  We will literally never not be not back at our failure to do this. Or? You know what I mean.

Hermann:  I really don’t think I do.

Lightcap:  He gets you.

Newt:  Does he though?

Hermann:  I doubt there’s much to get.

Lightcap:  Moving on. I don’t see that anything about the situation has changed. We have no way to take a signal from a brain, transduce it to a computationally readable form, transmit it wirelessly, and then turn it into a complex series of actions. The lag is absolutely killer. Literally. And those things are getting faster. They’re getting faster faster than we’re getting faster.

Hermann:  That is, of course, the point that you have been missing for years, Newton. The transduction and remote transmission of signals from the human motor cortex takes too long in the context of physical combat.

Newt:  Oh look, the quantum physicist is weighing in. Missing? Have I been missing that point, do you think, Lightcap?

Lightcap:  More like lamenting. I’d say. 

Hermann:  Lamenting in a way that heavily implies a reluctance to accept inherent technical constraints of the system in which you find yourself.

Newt:  [exasperated]  Ugh!  You are so—you. 

Lightcap:  I have—wondered about the Drift though.

Newt:  [with a broad sort of inebriation] No shit, Lightcap. Tell me more. Tell ‘us’ more, I guess, since Dr. Gottlieb is being a pest.

Hermann:  Do not say ‘shit.’

Newt:  Fine. 

Lightcap:  You guys are so fucking weird.

Newt:  You’re not going to tell Lightcap not to say—

Hermann:  Do not.

Lightcap:   We tend to use the drift in a very literal way. Person A, right hemisphere. Person B, left hemisphere. But there’s not a reason it must happen that way. Let’s say, for the sake of argument—what if I had a twin? What if we had both acted identically to save Serge that first time, when he was dying in that rig. What if there had been a three-way jack-in? What would that have been like? How would that have ultimately settled out? It couldn’t have been divided down structural lines: left hemisphere/right hemisphere. That’s what happened by default the first time, but what if you could add other parties to the drift? Look, the unknowns are too great and the benefits are questionable; but what about adding multiple parties to the drift? What about attempting a drift with the computational program that we use to establish the connection between the pilots and the Jaegers? If that program could be expanded; if it could be turned into something more like an AI and brought into the link somehow, then maybe the lag due to transduction could be eliminated. There would, essentially, be no lag. Because the drifting pair would be one with the computational program running in the Jaeger.

Hermann:  You can’t be serious.

Newt:  [flatly] Lightcap, that is absolutely insane.

Lightcap:  Baby-face!  You were my best hope for getting anyone to take this idea seriously. And it’s not insane. 

Newt:  Okay, look, it is not absolutely insane. 

Hermann:  Yes, it is.

Newt:  I feel really strongly about this though, Lightcap. Really strongly, okay? Listen to me. I think you’re probably absolutely right. I bet you could get multiple compatible parties in on a drift and possibly, possibly get improved capacity. There would be that much more danger of a lack of alignment, right? There are those triplicated kids that want to try it in triplicate? The Wei Tangs? 

Lightcap:  That’s where I got the idea. I’ve been designing them an interface.

Newt:  Well, okay, that’s extremely badass. Why didn’t you tell me you were doing something that awesome.

Lightcap:  You’ve been busy.

Hermann:  If you wish to continue your sequencing work you will need to work up a funding proposal that you have not even started.

Newt:  Myeah, okay, busy. But yet? Not too busy for awesomeness.

Lightcap:  Write that grant, baby. Money’s shifting somewhere, and I’ve heard rumors of a second defense program in the works.

Newt:  I’ll write the grant, people. Ugh. Have some faith. But look, Lightcap. Lightcap. A three way human drift is one thing, but you’re talking about a human-on-human-on-computer drift, yes? With the hope that it would facilitate a drop in the killer lag time that’s been precluding remote monster killing?

Lightcap:  Yes. That is exactly what’s I’m proposing. One two, look here you, three four, I’m hard-core.

Newt:  Oh yeah. You mastermind that childish rhyme. Look. A biological brain is going to have more plasticity, more ability to adapt than even the most sophisticated, AI or AI-like computational program you might be able to put together. Probably? The drift will just be an uninterpretable mess, but you don’t want your neural patterns permanently or even transiently altered by, like, a Star Trek style first contact between biological and computational software. I even can’t get Dr. Gottlieb’s weird presentations to work properly on my operating system of choice and you think you’re going to add a piece of software as a participant in a three-way drift and have it work?

Lightcap:  I think it can be done.

Newt:  Well then it probably can be, but don’t be an idiot, Lightcap. If these three kids from Hong Kong are so excited about trying a mental three-way see if that works. First.

Hermann:  I concur.

Lightcap:  That’s the plan.

Narrator:  That night, Dr. Geiszler left the blue guitar at Dr. Lightcap’s residence. For several weeks he intended to retrieve it, but he never had the time. Shortly after the party, Dr. Lightcap succeeded in assisting the Wei siblings in the establishment of the first three-way drift. As autumn progressed towards winter, she refined her plans for eliminating the lag-time that precluded remote control of a Jaeger. She submitted a petition for approval from the PPDC’s oversight board to attempt a pilot experiment using herself and Sergio D’onofrio. She was denied approval. She requested to appear before the committee to make her case. 

Lightcap:  It’s my pilots who are out there, dying. I conceived this project. I trained them. We all, all of us—you on this board, me in my lab, every person in every country who watches, riveted, as they protect the coastline—all of us—we send them out there. The presence of people to protect creates an ethical imperative to which whole scores of individuals have stepped up. We have to do this. We have to do this because we might be able to reduce some of that risk. We might be able to retain trained pilots for longer. As it stands? In a year? I might not be around to propose this to you. This isn’t melodrama. This is what it is and how it is. And this is what we have to do. You and me. We have to try and do this for our pilots. For the ones we have, the ones we’re training, the kids who are walking down the streets in hopeful pairs—best friends, siblings, lovers—and looking for a dojo or a studio or a gym where they can start their training. We have to do it now. It has to be me that tries. It has to be you that says yes. Tell me yes. You must. You must tell me yes.

Narrator:  They told her yes. She and Sergio D’onofrio attempted her proposed drift the following week.

 

Lightcap:  Uplink established.

Tendo:  Cait, you okay? Your alignment just fluxed.

Lightcap:  [frightened] I’m okay, yeah. We’re okay. We’re okay to keep going. [whispered and very low in the mix] one two three four, two two three four, three two three four, four two three four, five two three four.

Tendo:  Yeah?

Lightcap:  [breathlessly] Yeah. It’s strange. It’s a little bit weird, is all; we’re getting some unparsable input, I think.

Tendo:  You want to just take some readings and jack back out?

Lightcap:  Nope.

Tendo:  Serge? Can you hear me, brother?

Serge:  [tightly] Yup.

Tendo:  Okaaay, initiating neural three-way.

[Lightcap begins to hear Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Pt. 1.]

Lightcap:  [whispered, tearful] I think something’s wrong. I’m caught in a memory. Serge? Tendo? Cut the connection. Cut the—

Mako:  Gambatte!  Ikimashou!

Lightcap:  [with increasing strain under all of the coming lines] One two three four, two two three four, three two three four, four two three four, five two three four, six two three four, seven two three four, eight two three four, nine two three four, ten two three four, eleven two three four, twelve two three four…

Lightcap:  I’m a little bit excited. I mean, don’t tell him this, but I love his band. Unironically.

Hermann:  Ah. I can’t say that I’m familiar.

Lightcap:  Shhh!

Newt:  [singing] Her name is Yoshimi, she’s a black belt in karate.

Mako: Hya! Ya!

Lightcap:  [laughter at Mako’s karate moves]

Newt:  [singing] Workin’ for the city, she has to discipline her body.

[The sound of rising static.]

Newt: I didn’t think you were going to make it. Not that first time.

Lightcap:  West. Look west.

Mako:  Sometimes I feel afraid when I think of it.

Newt: The light was behind you.

Serge:  I’ll always remember it. Your nails digging into the ice.

Hermann:  I do not give him a ‘hard time.’

Lightcap:  What’s a nice kid like you doing in bitchin’ boots like those, anyway.

Hermann:  I have never given him a ‘hard time.’

Lightcap:  [whispered] I need more time.

Serge:  Unbelievable.

Lightcap:  This sounds a little bit juvenile, but I think D’onofrio might—like me?

Mako and Newt:  [singing] working for the city; she has to discipline her body. 

Newt:  Will you come with me?

Mako:  We are learning about reef sharks.

Lightcap:  Yeah. I’ll come with you.

Hermann:  I don’t think you understand how poorly suited he is to this environment. How poorly suited we all are. All of us except you.

Lightcap:  You have feelings for me.

Newt:  Build yourself a temple of quantitative splendor and live there.

Serge:  Is that a problem?

Newt:  Don’t be weird about this, Lightcap. It’s not a guy thing, it’s just a human thing, okay? Your ribs are broken. Just sit. Sit.

Newt and Mako:  [singing]  But you won’t let those kaiju defeat me.

Lightcap:  Oh babyface, no one ever taught you a thing.

Hermann: Perfect men, like perfect numbers, are rare.

Serge:  Don’t scream. Just breathe, don’t scream

Lightcap: Screeeeeeewww you, fuck off and die.

Newt:  You’re quoting. I know you’re quoting.

Fan:  Dr. Lightcap, would you sign my chest?

Hermann:  Descartes, of course.

Mako:  I’m helping!

Newt:  You’re selfish, that’s what you are, selfish.

Mako:  You have done so much.

Lightcap:  I wish you wouln’t take it so hard.

Newt [singing]:  Those evil-natured kaiju, naturally selected and or engineered to destroy us…

Newt:  Schoenfeld is an absolute dick. Why are you still thinking about that guy. Ever. Even one time. Move on.

Lightcap: The continental shelf.

Serge:  You make that clipboard look good. I’m just sayin’.

Lightcap:  He was brilliant. He is brilliant.

Hermann:  I don’t know that we can implement this time-table.

Newt:  I’m brilliant. You’re brilliant. You could shake a stick and hit someone who’s literally God’s gift to their own personal corner of science.

Mako:  I wish to be like you.

Newt and Mako:  [singing] ‘Cause she knows that it’d be tragic if those evil kaiju win. I know she can beat them!

Lightcap:  Do you believe in God?

Newt: Stop. Please stop.

Lightcap:  [laughter]

Hermann:  I do not know what my father intends to do, exactly—

Lightcap:  The miracle mile.

Serge:  Don’t scream.

Newt:  The good times are killing me.

Lightcap:  Why are you doing this?

Serge:  Forget about him. He doesn’t love you like I love you.

Hermann:  I am—concerned. To say the least.

Lightcap:  It’s coming. It’s under the water. It’s coming.

Newt:  If I never see the Pacific again it will be too soon.

Lightcap:  You could absolutely be a pilot baby. I know you could.

Newt:  I just can’t believe the guy hit me. What is this, the stone age?

Mako:  You think so?

Lightcap:  Am I going to die?

Hermann:  I do not approve of your methods.

Lightcap:  I can.

Mako:  Newt, can you beat everyone at Portal?

Lightcap:  I worry about you sometimes, baby, I really do. You know how many fights you’re going to start with those things? You know how many you’re going to win?

Mako:  Why does it matter how many times I have watched Blue Planet.

Newt: Hiiii Lightcap.

Mako:  Tell me a story!

Serge:  I know it hurts, just hang on.

Newt:  I like to think of you winning every lottery. All of the time. For all time.

Lightcap:  Bitch-prince of the xenome!

Hermann:  It reminds me of home, I suppose.

Serge:  I don’t know if you’re thinking what I’m thinking.

Lightcap:  I don’t understand why you don’t sing more, my little habitual grandstander.

Newt:  What did one 1,4 methylcyclohexane say to the other 1,4 methylcyclohexane?

Hermann:  Do you have any idea. Any idea at all why they might have rejected my application.

Lightcap:  Karloff.

Lightcap:  I love you so much.

Newt and Mako: [singing] Oh Yoshimi, they don’t believe me, but you won’t let those kaiju eat me, Yoshimi.

Lightcap:  Admit it though. You like him. A little bit. A little bit you do.

Newt:  You looked very heroic.

Newt:  You’re going to die in there.

Mako:  This beetle is very interesting.

Lightcap:  So you don’t die out here.

Newt:  Oh yeah, there was this one guy, in Prague, at a bioethics conference believe it or not—

Lightcap:  I only play Chell, Geiszler.

Hermann:  I do not understand why none of you place a priority on the etiology of this catastrophe. The breach must be shut.

Newt:  Whatever. Everyone’s hotter while holding power tools.

Newt and Mako:  [singing]  ‘Cause she knows that it’d be tragic if those evil kaiju win. I know she can beat them!

Lightcap:  Sleeping at the empirical wheel, kiddo. Not a good look.

Mako:  But are you sometimes afraid?

Lightcap:  You never talk about your family, Geiszler.

Hermann:  I will admit absolutely nothing of the kind.

Newt:  A story? What kind of story, Maks?

Serge:  Even now sometimes I can’t believe you’ve done what you’ve done. I love everything about you. Even your goddamned demon cat.

Lightcap:  There once was a warrior princess named Mako and she lived beside a giant lake.

Newt:  You are the brick and mortar of this place, Lightcap.

Mako:  Afraid of the water?

Lightcap: Mako! There is glitter in my hair. 

Serge:  You can’t die.

Newt and Mako:  [singing] Yoshimi, they don’t believe me, but you won’t let those kaiju eat me; Yoshimi they don’t believe me, but you won’t let those—

Lightcap:  Girl you so groovy!

Mako:  Afraid when it comes in?

Lightcap:  If you build enough, you can live for the only forever that matters.

Newt:  The only forever that matters to you.

Serge:  You can’t die. You can’t leave them. If you leave them the ships are going to wreck.

Lightcap:  She kicked the shit out of that board. Stacker, did you see that?

Doctor:  Your ribs are broken and you’re bleeding internally.

Newt and Mako: Oh Yoshimi, they don’t believe me—

Lightcap:  I love you. I love you. Serge. I love you.

Newt and Mako:  [singing] —but you won’t let those kaiju defeat me, oh Yoshimi.

Lightcap:  Did they—treat you okay?

Hermann:  Frankly, Dr. Lightcap, I believe you set a poor example. To put it bluntly, your professionalism leaves something to be desired. I do not think this incident would have occurred if you would more consistently enforce attendance at mandatory briefings.

Newt:  [now singing alone]  Oh Yoshimi, they don’t believe me, but you won’t let those kaiju eat me—

Newt: You’re going to die out there. 

Tendo:  Find Geiszler, find Geiszler, oh god, someone find Geiszler.

Lightcap:  Don’t let him see.

Mako:  Are you ever afraid? Afraid when it comes in?

Lightcap:  Their thoughts pull in and blow out in a bright, beautiful brisance of sun and circuitry. 

Newt and Mako:  Hey Yoshimi, you don’t believe me but you won’t let those robots eat me—

Lightcap:  Torque and torment.

Hermann:  I think you should say something to him about the hair.

Lightcap:  Brawler Yukon. What do you think? You like the name?

Lightcap:  The butterfly on Mako’s notebook. The slide of a shoe.

Mako:  Are you ever afraid?

Lightcap:  The shattering of glass.

Lightcap:  I’m ready.

Narrator:  They did not survive the attempt.

Narrator:  Dr. Geiszler was not present in the interface lab at the time. Shortly after the incident, the members of J-tech present in the interface lab drew straws to determine who inform him of what had taken place and ask him to come to the lab to assist with documentation and data recovery. Dr. Choi drew the short straw. On his way, he encountered Dr. Gottlieb, and was relieved of his straw.

Narrator:  Dr. Geiszler attended neither Dr. Lightcap’s funeral, nor her wake. 

[Begin to fade up piano.]

Narrator:  He spent her funeral on the end of the deployment dock. Her wake he spent alone, in his room, listening to Black Sabbath and drinking a bottle of vodka he had found when going through Dr. Lightcap’s desk.

Newt:  I think it was because she liked machines more than people, really, when it came right down to it. No, that’s not right, I didn’t mean it that way, she just—she could make them do what she wanted and I don’t understand why it didn’t work for her. That last time. You people. You, Tendo, her, J-tech, me, everyone, even Mako—her simulator scores—we built these things to be extensions of us and she was better, better than anyone. How can this be the thing that kills her? That killed her?

Hermann:  [gently] Newton. This is the price. Not of progress, but of the rate she set. The rate that necessity dictates.   

Newt:  [flatly] You think I don’t know that?

Hermann:  I’m not sure you’ve ever accepted it in the way that Dr. Lightcap did. So this war has now, finally, touched you. That does not make you singular. But nor are you alone. 

[Piano fades into Dreaming Correctly.]

Narrator:  In Seattle, it rained all through the winter. Tendo Choi met the woman he would marry. Stacker Pentecost made a promise to Mako Mori. Hermann Gottlieb had a falling-out with his father over the concept of a Costal Wall. Skye McLeod switched fields from comparative anatomy to exoimmunology. Under the specter of decreased funding, Dr. Geiszler submitted his supplementary grant, which would eventually lead to the observation that kaiju were genetically identical to one another. In 2020, Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb would attend a global conference in Geneva, where the structure of the Breach would finally be revealed. At the same time, a kaiju called Knifehead would nearly destroy a Jaeger off the Alaskan coastline. In 2021, Mako Mori would be granted entry to the Jaeger Academy. She would be one of the last pilots to graduate. In 2022, construction would begin in earnest on The Wall of Life and the Jaeger program would begin its slow defunding.

[First two verses of Dreaming Correctly.] 

Narrator:  The blue guitar remained in Dr. Lightcap’s empty house. 

[Guitar solo of Dreaming Correctly.]

Narrator:  Dr. Geiszler intended to retrieve it. He never did. 

[Last verse of Dreaming Correctly.]

Narrator: [overtop the choral montage at the end of Dreaming Correctly] It is speculated that the guitar was destroyed in the early spring of 2019 when the kaiju Ragnarok obliterated a large portion of Seattle. It was never ascertained for certain whether or not this was the case. It was possible a member of Dr. Lightcap’s family had removed it after her funeral. It is possible it was found by passers-by in the aftermath of the kaiju attack. Some historians doubt that the guitar existed at all. It is documented in no photos. No record of its production can be found. [now begin to double the Narrator and Mako] Dr. Geiszler himself has never commented upon its existence. The guitar has been mentioned only in anecdotes told to the press by Mako Mori, following the destruction of the breach in 2025. But how could Mako know these things that, over time, she has told? Mako could not know all of them. Mako would have had to tell the story as she remembered it, filling in the details that she learned of only later. She would have had to imagine what would happen to a guitar in the cold of Alaska, in the humidity of Tokyo, in the suburbs of Seattle. Does the guitar remember Mako only because she remembers it? To remember a thing is to change it in the re-experience. That is the nature of memory. It is not an impermanent thing, written in stone, and unchanging. It lives within us.

[Dreaming Correctly fades up and then ends, revealing the following very low in the mix:]

Lightcap: [whispered, neutral] one two three four, two two three four, three two three four, four two three four, five two three four, six two three four…

[Credits music begins.]