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"CID!" barked Gestahl, striding majestically into the Magitek lab. "Cid, drop everything you are doing! I need to ask you an incredibly important question."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Cid barked back while internally groaning. Every time the Emperor asked him an exceedingly important question, Cid felt like retiring to a deserted island and eating slow-moving fish for the rest of his life. "What can I do for you, Your Majesty?"
"I prefer that you address me as 'Your Worship,'" said Gestahl. "But I'll let you live."
"You are most kind, Your Worship."
"Cid, I've noticed that most, or perhaps all, of our Magitek Knights are blond. Would you care to explain this situation to me?"
Cid blinked. He would have thought Gestahl would be more concerned about the fact that most of his Magitek Knights were clinically insane and prone to mass murder. But it wasn't Cid's place to worry about one of these insane super-powered beings turning the entire world into a purple-skyed post-apocalyptic wasteland. "Um, Your Worship...I think it's just a coincidence. A lot of people in our world are blond."
"A lot of people aren't," said Gestahl with an impatient yet imperious flip of his beard. "I must ask, what was the selection criteria for your Magitek Baby Kidnapping Program, Cid, hmmmmmm? One might think you might have been mightily biased towards blonds, being one yourself."
"I'm not blond, Your Worship."
"But you're very yellow."
"That's my raincoat."
"Why are you wearing a raincoat indoors."
"It's more waterproof than a labcoat. You never know when one of these liquid-filled Esper tanks might suddenly explode, resulting in a daring escape sequence on a minecart followed by a pincer fight against two murderous construction cranes."
"...What?" said Gestahl. "What, what were we talking about?"
"Blondness." Cid thought about it for a hot second. There were quite a few blond Magitek Knights, weren't there? Celes, of course, and Kefka, and...what was that colourful fellow's name again? Cid always forgot and called him No. 024. Oh well. He was blond too, though he did like to dye his hair lots of other shades depending on what sort of spells he felt like using that day.
Anyway. Back to grovelling.
"Your Worship is a genius," he babble-grovelled. "How could I not have seen it? This...is a remarkable discovery!"
"I know," Gestahl preened.
"Could it be that...the genes responsible for blondness are associated with higher Magitek infusion synchronicity???"
"It very well could be!"
"Wonderful!"
"You had better submit this to your Scientifickal Society for review, hm? With my name attached, of course."
"Of course. Of course. Ah. That is a very good idea." A very good idea if Cid wanted to be laughed out of the Scientifickal Society. "I will get on that, definitely."
"Have it done quickly. I don't want anyone else stealing the credit."
"Definitely a possibility," Cid said. Definitely not. "Speaking of possibilities, I'm worried that the Scientifick Society may not accept our results as statistically valid. Our sample size of Magitek Knights is...very small after all."
"So?"
"So they might just say it's a coincidence. Or a bias in the selection criteria for the Magitek Baby Kidnapping Program. You mentioned the possibility before, so very wisely."
"Oh, but I decided it's not that. No, what matters is that all our Magitek Knights are blond, and that's amazing, so we win at Science."
Cid heaved an inward sigh of Scientifickal despair. Time to try a different tack. "Most of the important people in our world are blond, aren't they?"
"Are they?" said Gestahl. A thoughtful look meandered its way into his soulless black eyes.
"They are," pounced Cid. "It is as if the God (or Goddess, or Statue) who designed the great personalities of our world decided they would all be blond. Also pale and ethereal. And prone to wearing a lot of jewelry and scarves."
"That's not true of Leo."
Now Cid had to pause. "He's definitely blond."
"But not pale and ethereal."
Cid emitted a nervous bead of sweat. "He's black, isn't he?"
"And blond. Somehow." Gestahl shook his head. Even he looked a little nervous at this topic. "Let us not think too long on Leo, the one and only black man in this world. He may be blond but he is not a Magitek Knight."
"It's true that he never received a Magitek infusion," said Cid, unable to let it go, "yet somehow he uses a magic-like ability called Shock."
"Shocking, isn't it." Gestahl stroked his very white, very copious beard with an air of casual magnanimosity. "I suppose if we accept Leo as blond then I am blond as well."
Inside his heavy vinyl raincoat, Cid began to sweat even more.
"Well, it is certainly true that your Your Worship's lustrous mane is pale and lovely," he said with delicate imprecision. "And you wear such luxurious jewelry and scarves. Very ethereal."
Gestahl made a harrumphing noise. This meant he was pleased. "True, true. I did win 'Most Fashionable Emperor in the Empire Award' ten years in a row."
"Yes, Your Exceedingly Divine Worship."
Gestahl harrumphed again. "Jewelry and scarves and blond etherealness...yes, I can see what the future world shall look like! I shall remake the world in my divine image. Everyone in this world shall be as lovely as young Celes and/or as handsome as young Kefka. I should breed them together."
Ew, thought Cid. Did I just inspire him to create a truly disgusting eugenics program?
"But," continued Gestahl, "that means we must expunge the unworthy from our ranks, so that only the fittest may breed."
Yes, I did inspire him to create a truly disgusting eugenics program.
"For instance--that Tina girl."
Cid shook off his guilty thoughts (which was something he did fifty times a day). "You mean Terra?"
"Whatever. She really is too much, isn't she?"
"You mean her propensity for casting Fire on fifty of our soldiers at a time?"
"No, I mean her hair."
"...It's blond, isn't it?"
"It's green."
Terra's hair colour was, in fact, a major point of contention in the Imperial Army.
"I would not dare to contradict anything said by Your Worship," said Cid, while preparing to do just that, "buuuuuuut the apparent greenness you perceive in her hair may be due to your seeing her in this lab, with its, er, cheerful lighting. Anyone would look bit gangrenous after spending too much time down here. I mean, look at me."
"I'd rather not."
"That's fair."
"I'm quite sure that Tina girl's tiny head is green as a Leafer lettuce."
Cid mentally threw his hands in the air. "Yes, Your Exceedingly Divine and Scientifickal Worship. Just like Leafer lettuce."
"You'd think she were a wild-child from the Veldt. Green hair! Next thing you know she'll be dyeing it hot pink."
"I don't think she could. We don't let her anywhere No. 24's hair dyes--"
"Shush! I can't stand seeing that cabbage patch head among our blond, pale, tall, ethereal ranks. Have her sent on a random military mission in the middle of nowhere."
Cid blinked rapidly several times. "As a researcher, I don't have anything to do with military dispatches."
"SHUSH AND DO IT."
"Yes, Your Exceedingly Divine Worship."
"Good, very good," Gestahl cackled. "I am very good."
"Yes, Your Exceedingly Divine and Infinitely Wise Worship." Because it was so very wise to throw away your Empire's only Half-Esper research subject on a random mission in the middle of nowhere. "Where should I have her sent? The Veldt?"
"No, no, too many green-haired sub-humans around there. Wouldn't want the greenies breeding." Gestahl shuddered. "No, have her sent to...Narshe. It's so dull and depressing and freezing there. No one ever breeds in Narshe."
"Isn't Narshe a known hot-spot for Returner activity?"
"Yes, and that's why it's perfect for a random mission in the middle of nowhere."
"Oh, that makes sense," said Cid. It did not make sense. "I completely agree and shall carry out your orders forthwith by co-opting the duties of a completely different department."
Gestahl cackled again. He'd been hanging around Kefka too much, clearly. "Once that cabbage patch doll is gone, we shall breed our pureblooded Magitek Knights together, and all their children shall be blond and pale and tall and ethereal. And then we shall breed those children together and their children they will be even blonder and paler and taller and etherealer, with no deviations whatsoever. Yes?"
"Yes," Cid yes-manned. "That is exactly how genetics works, definitely."
"Perfect! Just imagine, an entire race of gorgeously blond, magic-wielding super soldiers under my command!"
"It sounds wonderful." It sounded like a nightmare. "Your Worship is a man of magnficent munificience."
"Please," said Gestahl, "no need for flattery. I am a humble man, Cid."
"Oh yes, Your Most Humble Yet Divine Majesty."
Gestahl cackled once more, with feeling, before swooshing out of the laboratory like a mad emperor hopped up on near-infinite power enabled by the enfeebled fools around him. Cid had to admit, it made for a very nice exit-swoosh.
Hah, thought Cid. Once you send Terra away, my research will grind to a halt like a rusty gear caught in an egregiously decorative steampunk gear-daddy, and then where will you be? Huh? Who's your gear-daddy?
"Oh, and Cid?" Gestahl swooshed back into the room for an unwanted encore. "Please make sure your research does not slow down at all after that Tina girl is gone. Understood? Good!" Then he swooshed back out the door again, taking with him all possibility of Cid ever being happy again, or at least vindictively satisfied via petty vengeance.
So.
Just another day at the office.
I.e. another day of absolute misery.
Eyes glazed, Cid contemplated once more that hypothetical island in the middle of nowhere. He pictured a white sandy beach, a clear purple sky, a patch of earth completely his own without annoying underlings or overbearing overlings scuttling around to pincer-attack him with claws full of paperwork. An empty life, a meaningless life--in many ways, no different from his current situation--but at least a life without hours and hours of unpaid overtime and unpaid overlord time listening to Gestahl blather on about his very evil and very stupid plans.
Yes, Cid would happily trade his supposedly high-flying life in Vector for a subsistence existence on a lonely little islet. He would sleep in a tiny little shack while bare naked (for lack of any clothes), wake up to catch slow-moving little fish with his bare hands (for lack of a fishing rod), and spend his afternoons punting around on a cute little raft with his bare feet (for lack of a paddle). Primitive and pure, nobly savage, no scientific quandaries or ethical dilemmas--no anything at all. That would be the life.
Oh who was he kidding. It would never happen. And if it did he'd be bored out of his mind.
He had better get back to work.
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Epilogue!
"Granddad?" said Celes. "May I call you that?"
Cid smiled. Beamed, even. He couldn't believe Celes of all people had become so...non-ice-queenish! So mellow! Maybe the end of the world did that to people. Or maybe it was the coma.
"Gramps, eh?" he said. "I'm overwhelmed! All of a sudden I have a granddaughter!" What a joyful day! Sure, the world was a purple-skyed post-apocalyptic wasteland, and he and Celes were stuck on a tiny desolate island in the middle of nowhere, but small victories were still victories!
Then he coughed out a series of horrific grey blobs peppered with candied bits of purple whatsit.
"You okay?" said Celes. "That cough sounds pretty bad." She glanced down at what he had spewed out. "No offense, but ew."
"I've...been ill for the past three days."
She walked up to him and felt his forehead. "No fever at least. What have you been eating?"
"Fish. That's all there is for food around here. Catch 'em at the beach."
"I'll get some for you. Where's your fishing rod?"
"Don't have one."
Celes raised an eyebrow. "Really."
"I use my hands. Nothing like the feeling of slimy little fish wriggling between my fingers! It's the life."
As he spoke, Celes knelt down and opened up her pack, which he'd left beside her bed. "Maybe I can make a fishing rod out of the stuff here. Oh, look! I have all my friends' personal possessions. Hopefully they didn't need any of that. There's a lot of Magicite and potions and tents in here...oh, and Edgar's collection of women's underwear..."
Cid was barely listening because he was trying not to die of fever. "I'll just lie down for a bit while you do that."
"Yes, please do that. You can actually use the bed now, since I'm not in a coma anymore. Actually, you probably should have put me on the floor and I'd have woken up faster, don't you think?"
She came back an hour later with an enormous fish thrashing at the end of a line and hook she'd conjured up from somewhere.
"Granddad," she said. "Some of those fish are moving veeeeery slowly. As in probably-dying-slowly. Have you been eating those ones?"
"Yes?" They were the easier ones to catch.
Celes did not look impressed. "Have you at least been cooking them?"
"Um...well, when you're sick it's hard to do all the work to start a fire..."
She pointed at the fireplace and said, "Fire."
A few minutes later, the two of them were feasting on roasted fish.
"This is delicious." Cid licked his fingers. "It doesn't have that funny taste the other fish did."
Celes raised an eyebrow again. "So what's our plan of escape?"
"Escape?"
"Off of this island."
"Oh." Cid shifted around in his bed shiftily. "No plan."
Celes still had her eyebrow raised. She stared at him with her piercing, Magitek-infused eyes until he broke down and admitted, "I'm secretly building a secret raft in the secret basement."
"Why would you keep that a secret?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise?"
Celes stood up. She kept staring at him, but now she was looming over him too. "Granddad. You need to take care of yourself better."
"But I need to take care of you--"
"You are ill and old. I am healthy and young and artificially enhanced to be incredibly powerful. You are going to stay in or near this bed for the next week while I feed you cooked, non-rotting fish, and you will NOT go to the basement to work on the raft. Understood? Good!"
And she smiled at him, with feeling, before swooshing out of the house like a stunningly competent young lady hopped up on Magitek and a goodly dose of kindness. Cid had to admit, it made for a very nice exit-swoosh.
With a not-really-grumpy harumph, Cid settled back down into his bed. So. He could finally rest, for the first time since coming to his supposedly idyllic random island in the middle of nowhere. All thanks to Celes. She had so much energy for someone who'd just come out of a coma. Cid, meanwhile, was a tired, achey, coughy mess. He would let her take care of everything. Everything...everything in the world...
Eyes closed, he pictured her at the beach: a figure standing tall and strong in the shallows, water parting around her legs as she wades deeper into the sea. Back straight and arms strong, she casts her line into the depths, where the stronger fish swim. She reels the line in, then casts it again...then reels it in, then casts it again, over and over, ignoring the small fry swimming listlessly around her feet (Honestly, Cid had wondered what was wrong with those smaller, slower fish, but he'd eaten them anyway, for reasons he didn't like to think about...). She has larger fish to catch. Once in a while, she looks off into the distance, where the gulls wail a song of the larger world. Her blond hair glitters in the sunlight.
It was a lovely picture, but also an exhausting one. It made him remember that he'd been part of the machine that had forced her to become so hard and strong (and blond). The name Granddad made him feel both warm and sick.
Cid coughed again. His chest ached, his throat ached. He really was old and tired. Not just from illness, or from a year of hardship on this island. If he were honest with himself, he'd been sick for a long time before coming here.
Maybe, just maybe, when the time came, he wouldn't go with her on the raft. He didn't want to weigh her down. He wanted to stay here, on this solitary isle, where no one would be able to use him for evil, or for anything, anymore. That didn't sound so bad at all.
He pulled the hood of his rainjacket closer around his face, breathed a few light breaths, and finally dozed off to sleep.
-End-