Eleven's Name
She felt a polar chill and saw the ripping heights from which she dangled her legs. Below her was the river Rhine. From a nearby hidden waterfall came a loud burbling that sounded like the faint whispers of a ghost. The
Katz castle was plainly in view, stately and weathered on the opposite side of the Rhine. It stood as a bright turreted and steepled omen of the ages.
It was cold as Christmas. The point made more clear by the handsome Russian at her elbow with a father Christmas hat perched atop his short black military hair. Over his uniform was buttoned a white lab coat. Stitched over the pocket was the name Abramov.
"We'd be out of the Rhineland-Palatinate by tomorrow evening." Came a deep Russian accent.
"But?"
"But what?"
"You said 'We'd' which is the contractional phrase of 'we would.' Which in it's current usage implies we won't be." Eleven laughed richly, kicking her feet over the side of the cliff. Abramov grinned, sheepishly.
"You forget I've not had training in English that you were subject to." He disclaimed.
"Subjected to, you mean. And don't forget your articles." She corrected. He lowered his eyes, feigning embarrassment but found himself unable to keep from grinning.
"But we will be out of here by tomorrow. Doktor Gereheardt won't be leaving with us. He's been detained."
"Is everything alright?" Eleven asked.
"Maybe not. But seeing as roždestvó is near, I have a present from good doktor, Gereheardt and myself." Abramov sat beside her and put his arm around her. The tacky lights strung from the Katz castle were reflected down in the river.
"For me?" She gushed.
"Your name." He said, suddenly serious. "Your name is…" He took from his pocket a syringe and shook it, it's contents were a voluminous dark green. "With all your memories in this single syringe. They may come and go. You may remember and forget, but they'll always be with you." He handed her the syringe.
She put the needle to a familiar scar at her temple, giving it a firm shove she forced the plunger down causing a rush of chemical imprinting to magic years into second. It was more than a blizzard of confusion…much more than sad memories. Without it, Eleven was emotionally cold…no warming blanket spun of empowering fibers… She stood alone. Searching the peaks and nadirs of the landscape below.
"Where are we?" She asked, worriedly. "What have you done?"
"You are at
Lorelei rock, Darya Lorelei. This is where it begins." She turned towards Abramov with alarm. She grabbed him and shook him gently.
"You can't do this!" She cried in heartsick protestation. "They will find us all. They will kill you." Abramov stood, taking her hands in his own and staring her into her eyes.
"It should never have happened this way." He said, direly. "I'm setting you free. You have everything back. You can run. The KGB will do what they can to find you. Classified operation retrieve Broken Arrow has already commenced." A smile blossomed on his face, a smile of absolute fondness. "But it isn't goodbye, after all. Find a terminal and search the Hindertraum database for the keyword 'Pygmalion' and it will link you directly to me."
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