Disclaimer: These are not my
characters, nor am I claiming them to be. They are the sole property of
Squaresoft. I am only borrowing them for the purpose of telling a story.
No copyright infringement is intended.
"Celes Wipes the Record Clean"
by Missy Minerva
One thing you should know straight off
the bat. Never mix suicide and politics. Or was that war and suicide? Actually,
I'm pretty sure it was sex and politics. Oh, hell with it. Just leave suicide
plain alone, okay?
My reasons for stating the above
comments are quite obvious. If you have attempted or plan to commit, you will
be seen as therefore crazy. An unstable individual. A psycho nut-box. And
therefore, unsuitable for politics.
Okay, I guess some of you will be
needing a flashback right about here (simpletons), so here goes. Try to follow
with me now. When I was a little girl I was tinkered with, as they say. Had
genetic probing and all that fun stuff. Actually, it starts before all that. I
was conceived, or rather, "created" in a petri dish. I'm not a true
person. So who then can really blame me for being the way I am? Okay, so I
don't believe any of that. I'm responsible for my own actions, right? Hell
yeah! So why the flashback? Oh yeah, so you can see the mechanism of my
madness, as it is. Right.
So then I'm taught all this army shit.
That alone is enough to make a person as cracked as a pecan, but I have this
totally wacked out man as a superior (or at least that's how I'll explain it
here. Much, much too complicated.) So I learn to kill, and kill I do. Not just
pull the trigger, bang, dead, either. I tortured and killed entire cities and
then burned them to oblivion. It wasn't my fault that I was raised to do so.
But somewhere along the way I realized it was wrong. Hey, who says a
cold-hearted bitch has no feelings?
So worse come to worse, yada yada yada,
and I end up in the uncomfortable predicament of being a traitor and a member
of the rebellion. And in love, for God's sake, how could I forget that?
Actually, it's my own brand of complicated love-hate. Confusing shit. You see,
being genetically engineered can leave you pretty screwed. Oh, sorry, there I
go again will the whole "It's not my fault" thing. Sorry. I'll try to
stay focused here.
So, where was I? Oh yes, the ruin. Then
the world just blows up, and sadly, not even in the metaphorical sense. I'm
flung onto this island to wake up three years later. Not three days, not three
weeks, and not three months. Three freakin' years! So then I wake up and
realize that all my friends, including the love of my life, are either dead or
lost forever. Except for the mad scientist, the one who made me. Yeah, he's
still alive, and in my pathetic state I even took to calling him my
grandfather. What a deranged girl I was. Then he dies from food poisoning, and
though I was eating the same food I was not the least affected. Why? (It was a
set up, I tell you! A conspiracy!) So that leaves me with no choice but to
commit. See? Can't you see my reasoning? The cliffs were just calling to me.
Okay, by now you must think "Man.,
this woman is completely deranged alright!" but it's not so. I've seen how
pointless it would have been and have seen the error of my ways. Wait, no I
haven't! It's called compassion people!!! You wouldn't understand. It's not
like there was a hospice around to supply me with any antidepressants, so what
did you expect? Really!
Well then, that's all there is to say on
that regard. Now where was I? Oh yes, the politics. You see, I've been elected for
the position of governor of the district of Vector. After the world crumbled,
you see, they have been attempting to restructure the society as such. There
are no more armies, so my expertise (ha!) was needed in this form of
occupation. Surprisingly enough, I want it. I need this position. As a
distraction. Unless the aforementioned love interest suddenly shows up to sweep
me away to fields of unknown pleasure. But he's as reliable as a stick in the
wind and the boys got issues of his own to deal with so I guess that won't be
happening. So politics it is, then.
At this point, the slower readers are
wondering "What the hell is the problem, then?" Well, here it is.
After this whole incident with the rebellion and ruin, etc., I fell into a deep
depression (yet again) and saw a shrink. Yeah, that was mistake number one,
right there. But my little "love boy" has caused me a lot of problem
with the whole dead girlfriend thing so let's just leave it at that. It was
airing out dirty laundry. So one thing leads to another (as they say) and I
blurt out the whole incident with the cliffs and the poison fish and the pigeon
with the blue bandanna. God, I must have sounded nuttier than a three dollar
bill. But oh, I was. Was I ever.
Anyway, the fact that this whole incident
now exists in my permanent records at the hospice is really eating me alive. It
only takes some clever conniving individual to figure out that this could ruin
my entire career. Or even stop it before it begins. So what's a girl to do?
What would any sane individual do in this situation? Of course, I'm going to
try to break into my hospice files and steal anything pertaining to the whole
ordeal. Wouldn't you do the same, given my situation?
You see, that's how the game is played,
my dear friends.
So that's the situation and where it
leaves me. Right now I'm in the reception room waiting to be called in to see
the lovely Doctor what-was-his-name? I forget. Anyway, that was hardly
important. He has my files. I want my files.
It's pretty hot in this waiting room.
Actually, it's so hot the wallpaper is just about peeling off the walls. I'm
forced to sit around with all these old women and young men staring at me as if
I was carved right out of porcelain. Hello, there! Can you say,
"genetically engineered"? Well let's try it, shall we? Repeat after
me. Genetically engin......oh, you're still here? Sorry.
I'm starting to get really annoyed at
these people, and thankfully, I'm finally called in to see the doctor. Dr.
Embden. That was his name. The receptionist, who looks like she'd rather be
eating glass than working here, leads me into that horrid little room. I guess
it's not so bad compared to the one that I could have been placed in. The one
with the padded walls. I won't be stuck in there, either. Not if I have any say
in the matter.
So I'm waiting on the examination table
and sweating from this sickly heat. I hope that I get my opportunity today
because it's getting harder and harder to make appointments. More so, harder to
fake injuries or medical conditions. You can only get leg cramps so many times
and doctors tend to know when you aren't really sick, so that limits my excuses
considerably. I'm almost to the point of trying to break into the hospice in
the middle of the night but that's really just too over the top. Besides, with
the time it would take for me to locate my file amid the sea of potential
folders., I'd be caught before I even had a chance. No, I'm going to have to
make a move, and soon. I'm running out of ailments. And today, you ask? Well, it's
not like it's actually possibly for me to be pregnant but still, it's easy to
pretend. Easily remedied. And it sure beats the whole pap smear idea. This
guy's really creepy, so I'm saving that for my last resort.
I can hear the doctor outside the door
now. He rushes in and greets me as if I'm some kind of old friend (this guy
should be the one running for politics). Well, I suppose I am pretty familiar
after all the times I've tried this scheme. Damn thing just isn't as easy as it
He's busying himself with small talk.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I mutter back at him, but the real focus of my attention is
that little manila folder. "Celes Chere" is written across it in
black ink. Perhaps if I could just change the name and they'd forget I even existed.
Yeah, and maybe Palidor* will just swoop down and take me away from
my troubles. Ummmm, yeah. Whatever.
"So Celes, my dear" He starts.
I'm trying to feign interest in what he's saying but I have to stay alert in
case I get an opening to strike. "What makes you suspect that you have
Talk like this makes me want to hurl. He
obviously thinks way too highly of himself. I want to yell some obscene kinky
thing at him but that's not in my best interest right now. Fake it I must, and
fake it I will. "Morning sickness."
"The stomach flu is going around,
you know." He smiles at me with that sick I'm-a-loving-doctor face.
"No, I've been....." Oh God,
this almost makes me laugh. He's so earnest. "Active."
"Well then, I see..." These
formalities are aggravating me. This whole room aggravates me. He's on his feet
now. "I'll go get you a test."
And yes, at last, I have a chance. Sorry
doc, but I'm afraid I won't be needing that test. Just these files. that will
be all. I can barely keep from laughing out loud. The folder is soft in my
hands like silk. I can almost taste the victory, yadda yadda yadda. Hmmm, let's
see, birth records, first dental appointment, genetic blah blah blah, and what
do we have here? Psychiatrists report. Well, I do believe I'll be relieving
them of this.
"Mrs. Chere." Omigod the
doctor's outside the door. Drop folder. Sit down. Shit!
"Ummm, yes?" It's rather hard
to fake boredom when you're hyperventilating, you know.
"According to your records you've
been genetically altered?"
"A little" Bullshit. More like
in every conceivable way.
"Well, I believe that you may be in
fact sterile." Omigod, now what? He's on to me. He has to be. Dumbass
isn't as dumb as he looks.
"What? I..." My only option.
Thankfully, tears are easier to fake when you’re hyperventilating. Much easier.
"Oh, Mrs. Chere. I'm
sorry...." Insincere bastard.
"But I....." Boy, am I ever
wailing now. This had better work.
"Wait here. I'll check in to
it." He's gotten all protective and male. Males are so easily manipulated
by tears, it makes me laugh. Or sick to my stomach. Either way, it works.
So as easy as that. is it? He's gone now
and the file is as good as mine. Needless to say, I'm out of here fast. But not
without sobbing my way past the doctor, receiving his condolences and best
regards (retch, retch). So I won’t be having any babies. Who cares? They get in
the way of politics too. And they smell bad.
So now, outside the hospice, I can
finally breath again. The record is so easily wiped clean, isn't it? Yeah
right. But that's all behind me now. Pity I don't have my magic anymore. I
could torch the sheet of paper into a million particles of ash and dust.
Actually, shag that. A match will do. Ahhh, burns nicely doesn't it? Who says
I'm as cold as ice? Let's call it a new beginning. Like the Phoenix. Yeah, like
Locke's dead girlfriend. Hmmm, yeah. Nevermind. Anyway, I'm free! Yeah, I'd say
that too. Life is definitely looking up.
Ready when you are, politics!
*After magic was destroyed, wiped clean
from the planet, the Espers were taken on as Saints. Token gods, if you prefer.
Each being the patron of its own power or special interest. Palidor being the
Esper god of freedom and journeys, of course.
Authors Note: I know this is a very
different characterization of Celes than the one you may be used to seeing, but
who's to say she's hasn't got a bit of Kefka's crazy streak herself? I think
the whole icy exterior thing has to be hiding a complex mental process. I
decided to play with the character and have some fun with her for once. Anyway,
that's my justification. This was really just a bit of fun. My true take on
Celes is quite a bit different as I find her to be one of the more interesting
(and complex) characters in the story. It bothers me to see her stereotyped
into the whole lovesick thing with her falling all over Locke (though I believe
they are in love by all means, she's not so helpless as to admit it like that.)
or the cold hearted depiction of her that doesn't suit her sensitive side at
all. Yeah, she has a major conflict between her loyalties and her ideals and
that's what makes her so interesting.
Where did this colourful story come
from, you ask? It just developed one day on a trip to the doctor. Haven't you
ever thought about that sort of thing? There are lots of things on the medical
records of people that I know that they would like to have erased. So how about
actually doing it? Ahhh, the impossible dream. A clean slate. And I figured
Celes needed one of those more than most. Well, if it entertained you or
changed your view of the character, I've done my job.
Comments are always appreciated.