"Babylon of the Sky"

Prologue

Notes/Disclaimers: Of course, these characters and anything thereof are copyright of Squaresoft and any other respective companies. I am not using them for profit or for any other sort of margin-I'm just a pathetic fan with a wont to ramble off on paper when I'm better off doing something else, so please don't try to get money from me or anything!

ALSO: This story has some religious content/controversy; if you're sensitive to such stuff, this is NOT for you!! Heck, why are you even interested in Xenogears?! Also, all my biblical quotes and references are from the "New International Version" and the "King James Version" of the Bible, so please don't e-mail me about "misquotes". ^^*
ALSO, in the Japanese version, Jugend was termed "Eugent." As such, that romanticization has been used instead of the translation taken for the English version. Although the story explains why, if you must know why I used "Eugent" right now, look up "Eugenics" in the dictionary.. (Thanks go to Queen Vera for pointing that out the "Eugent" thing though!! ::hugs::) ^_^

"The woman you saw is the great city that rules over the kings of earth." ~Rev 17:18


         It was another weatherless day.
         The klaxons went off promptly at sunrise.
         The worker bees all clambered out of bed.
         The worker bees all dressed in the bare, grey uniforms of the lowest class.
         The worker bees all filed down to breakfast in a neat, orderly fashion.
         The worker bees all received their assignments and toiled away in a life dedicated to THEM.
         Few questioned. Few fought back.
         It was another weatherless day.

* * * * * *

He stumbled into the hexagonal tube that served as a room in the 3rd Class sector. Nausea swept came and went, sending the room with its sparse furnishings into a dizzying spin that forced him to clutch the wall for support. Then, unable to choke back the bile any longer, he rushed to a trashbin and emptied his stomach into it.

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he flopped into bed, ignoring the burning in his throat left by the bile. He couldn't remember where he came from, couldn't remember anything because of the damn swaying that rocked his world.

Squeezing his eyes shut against that sway, he tried to recall what had happened to him.

"Number 13718-0056."

The rude, metallic voice shrilled over the speakers in his tiny chambers, attacking his overly sensitive ears with horrendous ferocity. 13718-0056 yelped, clutching his ears, and fell out of the narrow cot, landing with a painful thunk on the hard floor.

"Answer, number 13718-0056." It was getting irritated.

Frantically, he untangled his wiry limbs and half-stumbled to the intercom button, fumbling with it.

"13718-0056 here, sir." His voice was hoarse, dry.

The intercom crackled, buzzing with static. "Report to your block leader immediately for your new instructions."

"Y-yes sir." 13718-0056 released the button, sighing, the throbbing at his temples increasing tenfold. Block leader...? He couldn't recall the block leader's face. No... wait.... THEY pointed out the block leader to him.. just as when THEY gave him his name of 13718-0056.... It was when he was herded out of the bare white facility with many others like him... where THEY..... where THEY...

THEY what?

He couldn't remember and it bothered him to no end.

But he had better get to his block leader on the double. The urgency to do so tugged at him like instinct, and he automatically obeyed.

Quickly, 13718-0056 scrambled out of his cell, riding the tiny pod down to the block leader's chambers at the core of the hive. Around him, the worker bees wandered and worked, the Watchers floating over their heads to keep order. And he felt a sudden, unexpected swell of pride as he moved above them on the pod. THEY were such wonderful masters for watching over his kind, who were prone to chaotic tendencies. THEY were such wonderful masters for driving them to become better and more productive. 13718-0056 would never be able to repay THEM, who had so---

What was he thinking?!

The little pod came to an adrupt stop with an insistent beep, and the door to the central cell slid open with a nearly inaudible hiss. The tunnel was dark before him as he stepped inside.

* * * * * *

Due to the delay of the last shipment from the surface, 13718-0056 finished his assignment earlier today than expected. He found himself in a dichotomy of enjoying and resenting his work, unable to push away the instinctive want to do anything to benefit THEM and unable to resolve the hate of doing manual labor of which he receive no direct reward from.

It was confusing and mentally exhausting. It made his damn headache worse till all he wanted to do was return to his cramped quarters and sleep off the aftereffects of... whatever it was that had happened.

Then, unexpectedly, the members of his block were released from duty.

As he was returning to his room, sudden guilt washed over him, replacing the relief he felt earlier. It wasn't right to be greedy and want to rest, when he was so young and strong. THEY relied on him to work hard and to not---

Damn thoughts, entering his head without pretention.

With a sight, 13718-0056 entered his quarters.

And assaulted by a pungent stench that nearly made him sick again.

"Just great," he groaned in sudden realization. "I forgot to empty that bucket."

Covering his nose with one hand, he made his way to the source of his current problem, a sweet sweet smell that made him choke. Not wishing to prolong his acquaintance with the bin any longer, 13718-0056 grabbed the rim and yanked it off the floor, ready to bolt for the exit.

The faint click made him pause.
The thunk made him turn around.
And the panel that slid open made him nearly drop the bucket in surprise.

Setting the bin by the door, he knelt by the secret panel that that had been underneath where the trashbin once was. It was small, and probably triggered to open when the weight of the trashbin was lifted off some hidden switch. It was ingenuous.

And obviously meant to hide the little black book that nested snugly inside the compartment.

13718-0056 carefully picked it up, the leather cover soft under his gentle hands. It was plain and unmarked, but thick with many pages and worn from much use. Curiously, he flipped the front cover open, a page falling out. Plucking it off the floor, he sat on the bed and glanced at the sheaf.

All the worker bees knew their figures and a few certain words in order to operate efficiently.

But few knew how to read.

Number 13718-0056 discovered he was one of those few.

He stared dumbly at the complex array of strange symbols and realized that these symbols made *sense*. Absolute and perfect sense!

         You who read this realize that I am you.
         I was you before you were rearranged and treated.
         I was you whose memories were deleted,
         leaving only the skills you had
         and the inprinting that forces your to obey and follow THEM,
         your oppressors, the Gazel.

         Don't shut this book. Don't lose this book.
         It contains data about you. It is your history.
         It will determine your future.

         And this will be your first step into discovery:
         I am not #13718-0056.
         You are not #13718-0056.
         We are.....

He who was not 13718-0056 paused. And nearly choked.

For there it was, in a neat, long script, like a gift from Heaven, his own personal treasure and salvation. He who was not 13718-0056 had left it for himself, in case he ever forgot, in case he was ever forced to forget.

His name. Not a number. Not a label. Something that made him human. A *name*.

Hyuga.

He smiled.

Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great.