Date: 6/23/2001 – 3:10 AM
Location: Foundation Nursery – Unit 981
Perspective: Kaiser Everhart
Cartethyia sat on the edge of the bed, my small body still tucked against her side. She looked radiant, her eyes bright with the triumph of a thousand failed lessons finally resolved.
"Aww, this one is only one page," she murmured, her voice like honey. She smoothed the paper against her knee.
"Let's see what my little prince has to say before we cut your cake."
She began to read out loud. Her voice was steady at first, carrying the lilt of someone expecting a poem or a thank-you note.
"Dear Cartethyia, Thank you for everything."
She paused, a small, knowing smile touching her lips. She thought this was the beginning of a tribute.
"No one is permanent... even the special person leaves you, but what about those memories? Those memories don't leave. I'm sorry I was too inferior to be your child."
The smile didn't fade, but it froze. I watched her pupils contract.
"I didn't want you to leave, but I know I can't stop you from abandoning me. I know you're going to abandon me today... leave the Foundation to save yourself, for a better future. My inferior grades, qualities, talentless traits... who'd want to raise someone like me?"
Her breathing has ceased.
"Kaiser?" she whispered, her voice cracking. She didn't look at me. She stared at the ink. Her hand began to tremble, a fine, high-frequency vibration that made the paper rattle.
"I want you to achieve everything you told me before, even without me in your life. I hope you find someone else... a child whose presence is enough to comfort you... and someone that can give everything for you."
"That I couldn't give."
A single, silent tear fell. It hit the parchment right over the word 'someone,' blurring the ink into a dark Rorschach blot.
She let out a sharp, hitching breath—a "Tch—" sound that escaped through gritted teeth. Her face, usually so expressive and sarcastic, began to collapse into a mask of raw, quiet agony.
"I wish you good health... I know we were never really true mother and son... you never saw me like that."
"No," she choked out. It was a soft, mangled sound.
"No, Kaiser, 's-not... 's-not true..."
She clutched the letter so hard her knuckles turned white, the paper crinkling under her grip. Her chest began to heave, frantic and erratic.
"I'm sorry I couldn't be a better son."
"I'm sorry, Cartethyia, I just can't be better. No matter how hard I try... I will always come back even worse compared to other kids."
"I know I was always this bad since birth."
She made a small, wounded sound in the back of her throat—a "Ngh—" that sounded like she had been physically struck. She hunched over, her raven hair falling forward to hide her face, but I could see her shoulders shaking.
"I wish I died before I was given for you to raise... so you wouldn't have to raise an inferior, worthless child like me. I know it isn't your fault, it is just my fault."
"Please don't ever think about me again... be happy with others."
"Thank you for everything... I'm so so sorry for being a terrible son."
"I was the worst son."
She wasn't reading anymore. She was gasping for air, her mouth open in a silent scream that never quite broke the surface. She looked at the nutrient-paste cake on the bed—the cake she had fought the Foundation for—and then back at the letter.
"And once you leave, without you to help me up... I will most likely die... but that's okay."
"At least you're happy."
"Thank you, Cartethyia."
"From Kaiser Everhart."
"Goodbye."
The silence that followed was heavier than the White Room's static.
Cartethyia's hand opened. The letter, now damp with tears and wrinkled from her grip, slid from her fingers and fluttered to the cold floor. It landed near the desk, a discarded piece of 'logic' that had just destroyed her soul.
She didn't scream. She didn't lash out. She simply sat there, her head bowed, and began to cry.
It was a quiet, rhythmic weeping—the sound of someone who had been broken so many times that the pieces no longer fit together.
"Hehe..." she let out a wet, broken laugh that turned into a sob. "Goodbye...? You... you think... you think I'm leaving?"
She turned toward me. Her eyes were red, her face a mess of salt and silver light. She didn't look like the 'Mother of the Void' anymore. She looked like the girl in the dormitory who had just realized she was the second choice.
"I... I gave you... I-I gave you my heart..." she swallowed, her voice a fractured whisper. "And you... you're t-telling me to... to throw it away?"
Cartethyia didn't move for several seconds.
Then, her body seemed to lose its structural integrity. She collapsed forward, burying her face into the crook of my neck as we lay on the bed, her weight pressing me into the mattress.
I felt the heat of her tears instantly. They were soaking through my thin jumpsuit.
I have broken her.
"N-no... 's-not... 's-not true..." she mumbled against my skin, her voice a mangled, wet shadow of itself. "K-Kaiser... why would you... how could you s-say... 's-not what I..."
She pulled me tighter, her arms trembling with a strength that bordered on the painful. She was no longer a caretaker; she was a drowning woman clutching to her one reason to live.
"I-I have n-nobody," she sobbed, the sound muffled by my shoulder. "N-nobody but y-you. You th-think I want... a-another child? You th-think I want a g-genius? I don't want a-anyone else... I-I don't c-care about the b-blood…"
"You're my s-son. M-mine."
She shifted, rolling us both onto our sides so she could look at me. Her eyes were bloodshot, her raven hair plastered to her cheeks.
"My p-parents... th-they looked at me l-like a c-corpse," she whispered, her voice hitching on every second word. "A b-barren... c-cursed w-womb. They didn't w-want a daughter who c-couldn't g-give them a lineage. They d-disowned me, Kaiser... they threw me t-to the Foundation l-like I was... I was j-just a worthless g-girl."
"Not p-pretty... not special... just w-worthless."
Do not call yourself worthless.
"F-for years," she choked out, a fresh wave of sobs racking her frame. "I-I just wanted... s-someone to l-love. To give my h-heart to... but n-nobody... n-not a single p-person... they all l-left. Because I-I couldn't m-make a child... because I was 'd-defective'..."
She began to rock back and forth, holding me so close I could hear the frantic, broken rhythm of her pulse.
"And then I f-found you," she whispered, her voice cracking into a high, desperate note. "You were s-silent... and c-cold... and alone. J-just like m-me. I don't care if you're 'i-inferior'... I don't care about your t-tests…"
"I-I'm your m-mother! I-I am your m-mother, Kaiser! I-I won't let you get h-hurt... I-I won't l-lose you... I-I can't..."
Suddenly, she pulled back, her grip on my shoulders turning fierce. The weeping stopped for a split second, replaced by a raw, terrifying intensity.
"D-don't you e-ever!" she screamed. "D-don't you e-ever talk about d-dying! Don't you s-say you're leaving m-me! You are n-not allowed! You are m-my son! M-mine!"
She collapsed again, her forehead thudding against the mattress as she descended into a fit of broken, hysterical sobs. She was a mess of grief and possessive terror, her fingers digging into the sheets as if trying to anchor herself to the very earth.
My plan to facilitate her departure was built on the assumption that she valued her own future over my existence. I have applied "Kaiserism" to a mother. I sought the flaw in her life and tried to fix it with magic and a goodbye. But the flaw wasn't her inability to use water. The flaw was her loneliness. And I am the only thing she has left to fill it.
I cannot let her leave. If she walks out that door believing she is "waste," she will not survive the night.
I reached out a small, hesitant hand and touched her wet cheek.
My analytical mind was spinning, attempting to calculate a verbal bypass to this emotional "heartbreak." I had helped her with her magic. But I had failed to help the one thing that mattered: her heart.
"S-sorry," I whispered, my voice sounding hollow in the cold air of the room.
She didn't respond. Her face remained buried in the sheets, her hands clutching me so tightly it felt as though she were trying to pull me inside her own ribcage.
"T-talk... to m-me," I tried again.
Nothing but a jagged, hitching breath that sounded like it was tearing her throat.
"D-don't... c-cry," I stated, attempting a command-tone.
The sobbing only intensified.
"L-look… a-at me… k-kaiser," I murmured, patting her wet cheek with my small, clumsy hand.
She was unreachable. I had treated her like a puzzle to be solved, when she was a person that simply needed to be known. That needed me, her reason to live in this world.
I stopped analyzing. I moved within her grip, shifting my small frame until I was leaning over her, my face inches from her tear-streaked skin.
I leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek, right where a fresh tear was tracking toward her jaw.
"M-mama," I whispered.
The word felt strange in my mouth—a soft, rounded sound that carried none of the sharp edges of my usual thoughts.
The shuddering stopped instantly. Cartethyia went perfectly still, her breath catching in a way that sounded painful. Slowly, agonizingly, she lifted her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her raven hair a tangled mess, but the despair in her gaze was replaced by a look of profound, terrifying shock.
"Wh-wh... wh-wh-at?" she stuttered, her voice a mangled rasp. "K-Kaiser? D-did... did you j-just..."
"Y-you're m-my... m-m-mama," I said, the words stumbling over my clumsy tongue. I looked directly into her black eyes, letting my own blue gaze soften. "M-my... m-mama."
"S-say it... s-say it again," she whispered, her hands shaking as they framed my face. "P-please, Kaiser... j-just... one m-more t-time."
"M-mama."
Cartethyia let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. It was the sound of a heart melting—a literal resolution of the ache that had settled in the room. She pulled me into her, her face buried in my chest as she wept again, but this time the quality of the sound had changed. The jagged edges were gone.
"I-I w-will stay," I whispered, my hand stroking her hair. "W-with y-you. A-as... y-your s-son. I... p-promise... M-mama."
"P-please," she choked out, her voice muffled by my jumpsuit. "P-please s-stay with m-me. I d-don't want a g-genius, Kaiser... I d-don't want a 'p-prince' or someone to g-give me the world."
"I j-just want... y-you. M-my baby. J-just be h-happy... j-just be m-mine..."
She pulled back and began to pepper my face with kisses, her movements frantic and desperate. She kissed my forehead, my eyes, my palms.
Wiping her own tears to calm herself.
"I don't care about the Foundation! I don't care if you're 'inferior' or 'worthless' to them!" she cried, her voice regaining a hint of that fierce, possessiveness.
"To me, you are everything. You are the only world I ever wanted to see. Please, Kaiser... tell me... you won't ever talk about dying again? Tell me you'll stay forever?"
"I w-will," I said, my voice steadying. "I w-will s-stay... f-forever... M-mama."
The tension drained out of her body, her sobs slowing into deep, shuddering exhales. She reached out and took my small hand in hers, bringing it to her lips and kissing the center of my palm with a reverence that felt like a prayer.
"My son," she whispered, her voice dark and sweet, thick with a possessiveness that I now understood was her only defense against the void in her heart.
She pulled me close, our foreheads touching in the quiet, chilly dark of the nursery. Her raven hair fell around us like a curtain, a protective shadow that blocked out the white walls and the cold lights of the Foundation.
The letter is forgotten. The abandonment is cancelled. I have chosen a path that contradicts my own safety.
I have accepted a role in a story I did not write.
But I don't mind it.
I am 000981. The Aporetic False Genius.
But in this room, at this moment, I am simply her son.
And for now, that is the only logic I need.
I'm Kaiser Everhart.