Serial Experiments Lain Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ Fait Accompli ❯ Fait Accompli ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Well, I finally finished Lain. Trippy.
Umm, let's see. SPOILERS.
What else? Oh, maybe a bit of OOC sentimentality, but I liked it. Karl was the brown-haired MIB with green eyes. He confessed love of Lain in episode ten. No one really seems to focus on that, so I decided to. Is it romance? I don't know. It'd be a really weird pairing considering he's definitely old enough to be her father, buthow old is Lain, really? Besides, as I said, I'm really not sure what is going onin my own ficgeez. ;)
Anyway, on the theoretical level, there was no plausible explanation to the theory of Lain's continued existence even though no one remembers her. I thought this was appropriate. Oh, and the timing of the occurrences is not linear. My added bit comes after Karl's confession and before his death.
Lain and such do not belong to me. Obviously.
Accompli


fait accompli fay-tah-kom-PLEE; fet-ah-, noun plural faits accomplis same or -PLEEZ: An accomplished and presumably irreversible deed or fact.


He was not sure what moved him to say those simple words threaded with laughable sentimentality. Perhaps it was the pathetic site of that pitiable girl entangled numbly in a string of wires. Perhaps it was the fact the she alone had managed to track down the Knights, making his job easier. Perhaps it was simply because her existence was a beautiful conundrum.
This girl, this Lain of the Wired, was an anomaly, an enigma. She was a child, only in eighth grade, and yet she had so much power on the Net. It wasn't just hacker skills; there was something about that girl, something unnatural.


"We still don't know what you are." He paused, watching for any flicker of recognition. Slowly, he removed his goggles and let his bright green eyes fall on the little girl in the white nightie. There was intimacy in showing the windows to the soul.
Lain did not respond. She sat there, limbs intertwined with binding black cords. No movement. No acknowledgement. Not even a blink.
There was solace in speaking sentimentality to a statue.
"But I love you." He turned away as he spoke, shocked by the confessions falling from his lips. For some reason, her silence gave him some discomfort. He quickly moved to cover it. "Love's a strange thing, eh?" He quickly retreated though her bedroom door, trying to ignore the mocking laughter coming from his partner.


"Why did you save me?" A small voice asked. It was Lain, the Tokyo Lain, the timid version of the fabled Net goddess.
Karl shrugged, smoothing back his long brown hair and surveying the damage done by the blown boiler. "Our client sees fit that no harm comes to you, Lain of the Wired. Especially by way of the Knights." His partner stared on silently.
"Not that it means much to you," she smiled sadly. "But thank you."


When they were alone, his partner would tease him about being some sort of child molester. On the way back from informing Lain about the fate of the Knights, the black-haired man continued on his dig.
"Your obsession with that little girl goes beyond the realm of professional," he said, giggling in that mad way of his.
Karl snorted and ignored him.
"So tell me, do you plan on sneaking into that little girl's house, now that she's alone, and"
"Shut up," Karl growled idly. "You know it's not like that."
"Really, now? That little girl, she's pretty, I'm sure you've noticed. Pretty, powerful, and an utter mystery, if that isn't a setup for some sort of infatuation, I don't know what is." The other man smirked slyly at his partner. "Besides, she's a young schoolgirl, probably hasn't seen much actionI bet you'd be willing to"
"Shut up. You're starting to piss me off."
The smaller man's grin would only widen and the tension in the car would grow.
Karl began to regret giving up smoking.


It wasn't some sort of perversion. He had no intention of bedding such a young girl. It wasn't like that. She wasshe was like a god. When he had gone into the Wired, he had felt her presence. She was ubiquitous. She was powerful. She saw everything. The Tachibana Labs might claim to not need God, but feeling her essence with miles between them told Karl otherwise. She was an ideology he could follow, a masterpiece he could admire, a construct he could worship. That was all, nothing more and nothing less.
And yethe remembered seeing both sides of that powerful coin. The temperamental goddess and the shy, naive child. Another comparison of the Madonna and the whore. Innocence was just as intoxicating as power. His partner had a point in capitalizing on her persona. Women like that could be very attractive to him. Butit was love, not lust that bound Karl to his quarry.
Karl understood that his partner did not share the same idealism that he did. His partner was a material man, cynical and avaricious. Well, they both were, but Karl committed himself a bit more the darker side of romanticism than he would have liked to admit.


Lain stood in the streets, watching the wires. She could feel the electric synapses jumping and processing information. She could seeshe could see it all. The Gestalts were WRONG. The wholethe whole of the informationthis is what it is like to be GOD. "God" of the Wired who now sought her relentlessly. She gave a low moan as she staggered into a wall.
Being close to "God" hurt.


Karl had stood at a distance, watching the girl struggle to her feet. Remembering his words to her, he was torn by the desire to aid her and the shame of even vocalizing such an admittance. The better part of his character won out, and he approached her.
Lain felt the buzz of the Tachibana cybernetics gear. She looked up from her crouch and found that manKarl staring down at her.


Lain of the Wired emerged angrily.
How. Dare. They.
She gave them her answer of nonchalance and they refused to accept it. Who the Hell did they think they were?!
Pushing the short one aside, Lain vaguely remembered blowing up his goggles on his face, she stalked past the men in black.
A rough hand had grabbed her arm and a voice had growled, "I think you're the dangerous one." Or something to that extent.
Their employer had shouted the man's name and he had released her.
Lain stalked off.


And here he was, that same rough hand extended towards her as some sort of peace offering. Too disoriented to care, Lain accepted.
"You should stay away from me, Karl-san," she murmured, steadying herself.
The man in black watched behind a mask of impassiveness.
"Really, Karl-san, I suppose I appreciate your help, and your kind words, but you should not be here."
So, she remembered.
Karl shrugged, his gear in place.
"People claim to love me. That man who was my father. That man who calls himself "God of the Wired." Even a man who has no identity. Tell me, Karl-san, what do you think? If no one remembers youdid you ever exist?"
The man stared at her, somewhat confused. Was she speaking of him? Perhaps. Or did it run deeper than that? Also a possibility.
"I suppose, if no one remembers you, it's their loss. There have been scores of people throughout history, that we have record of. Their works, their words, etc. Even if no one understood them, no one remembers them as individuals; they did exist."
Lain stopped for a moment, her amber eyes widened as thoughts unreadable to Karl, flowed through her consciousness.
"I see." A moment passed before she spoke again. "You have green eyes, don't you?" The question was as guileless as the asker.
The older man removed his headgear for her once more.


There was something incredibly poignant about his expressions. Those eyes were deeply tragic and added to the intensity of his features. He looked down at her in wonderment, as if he was till mystified by her. She could not blame him; she did not understand all the parameters of her existence either.
He was not like Taro. He was not like Papa. Even though he too claimed to love her. He was a terrible man who had killed many. Almost reminiscent of Eiri Masami. Yet, he had been painfully honest with her and she was grateful for that bit of stability in a changing world.
Lain squeezed his hand and smiled hopefully. Perhaps he would make it out of this alive.


"I'm fine now, Karl-san. Once again, I must thank you for your kindness."
He managed a small smile, forced, but put on for the sake of this girl's feelings. She seemed delighted by the gesture and bowed.
"Ja ne, Karl-san. Please, don't involve yourself with this any more."
"Sayonara, Lain," he returned simply; intuition told him that this was the correct diction in this scenario. He did not expect to see her alive, again.
Realizing the impact of his statement, Lain's eyes took on that familiar veil of grief. She turned around and slowly walked towards her empty house, leaving him standing in the street.


Karl's last vision was a patchwork hallucination. As he watched his partner expire, he saw Lain, looking back at him through the dying man's eyes.
"Sayonara, Lain"
She had warned him.


He was thirty-five when he died. No truly plausible cause of death. No explanation for his situation. No identification.
His partner was found beside him, also dead. There had been screaming and thrashing in the parking garage before both men passed away.
The doctors wrote it off as some sort of aneurysm brought on by stress. It didn't really matter. The men were foreigners.


Lain observed her handiwork with bittersweet satisfaction. Everything was as it should beexcept Lain was gone. She had averted tragedy and catalysts by deleting herself
But Chiisa was alive and well. Papa, Mama, and Onee-san were a family. Alice had grown up and made it to happily ever after.
And Karl was alive.


She sometimes watches him happily at work with his grungy little partner. They are electricians now, and Lain thinks that it is much better that way. He seems so muchhappier.
Sometimes, when the loneliness of her immortal soul burdens her she remembers his declaration of love and his words.
I suppose, if no one remembers you, it's their loss. There have been scores of people throughout history, that we have record of. Their works, their words, etc. Even if no one understood them, no one remembers them as individuals; they did exist.
And they bring her comfort.

then, I think that's enough of that. Oh, for those of you who don't know, "sayonara" connotes the expectation of never seeing the subject again, or at least for a very long time.