-----

Author's Note: This was originally written to be a scene from my fic Totem, but it makes a very striking standalone. If you want the reason they're in Zanarkand and the rest of the story, go off and read Totem. It's in my "Stories Authored" section. Also, forgive my bad Latin in the title. I'm sure it's incorrect somehow -- feel free to correct me!

This is for Lee, for all those times we had the terrible jokes about screws and artificial intelligence, and also for the very beautiful way she conveys Gippal's love for machina. What we have in this story are her ideas and her portrayal of Gippal, merely translated into my words and my style. I would have never seen this viewpoint had it not been for her. Thanks Lee, and this was written on your birthday, so think perhaps of it as a gift.

And for now, please suspend your disbelief and pretend that the story of The Wizard of Oz exists in Spira, alright? The references were too good to pass up.

-RyRy 10/16/2004

-----

Machina Sensus

"Come on, man, that's not normal," Gippal insisted, grabbing Nooj's right elbow. "Just let me have a look, alright? It'll take me five minutes."

Nooj emphatically refused to look at Gippal. "It'll be fine," he replied, tearing his elbow away. "If it gets to the point that I can't walk--"

Gippal put his hands on his hips. "Remember what happened the last time that happened?" He arched his back to look up at Nooj defiantly.

"I thought I told you never to speak of that again?"

"Conveniently forgotten to prove my point." Gippal raised his eyebrow, holding out his hands as a peace offering. "So, what do you say? I won't tell; and, if you can keep quiet, not even Baralai has to know."

Nooj's exasperated sigh was, Gippal knew, a sign that the man was about to break -- if only to get the Al Bhed to leave him alone. "If you speak of this to anyone--"

"Not a word, Tin Man."

Nooj had that look on his face. The one that Gippal couldn't tell whether it was dangerous because Nooj was about to smack him (quite possibly with that mechanical arm which, in Gippal's experience, hurt almost as much as getting whacked with a shoopuf's tail) or if it was endearing because Nooj actually took the joke. Usually the next action let Gippal know which one it was -- sometimes, though, he wasn't sure if he wanted to stick around to find out.

This was one of those times. The possibility of getting to inspect Nooj was what kept Gippal from turning tail and fleeing like a scared lemur with his tail straight up in the air to warn his friends of the impending onslaught by the angry predator.

"You know," Nooj replied flatly, pausing while Gippal braced himself for collision, "with that yellow hair of yours--"

Gippal had to hide his sigh of relief behind a quick response. "I know, I know," he acquiesced, grinning wider than most other people could manage as he mock-sang, "If I only had a brain--"

"--and the way you can do the splits--"

"Hey!" Gippal protested, forgetting the song and folding his arms. "That was an accident, really. I don't think my manhood could take another one of those."

Nooj smirked. Gippal knew how to read facial expressions like an instruction manual, and a smirk from Nooj was as good as an affectionate smile from Baralai.

"So come on," Gippal said, getting off the subject and back to the original plan, "let me have a look?"

Nooj turned his head and looked up at the night sky of Zanarkand. "I suppose," he replied, to Gippal's utter glee, "but make it fast."

Gippal had been prepared for this. He already had his array of small tools stored away in his back pocket and inside the various compartments of his utility belt; he had everything he needed for this occasion. He let Nooj get settled comfortably against the rock wall that rose beside their campsite while he looked out over the spectacular view of the ruined city. Gippal had never thought he would get to see this sight which had been reserved only for the eyes of Summoners and their Guardians. Gippal sighed softly as his eyes swept the landscape; this must have been an amazing city a thousand years ago. The stories he had heard all revolved around the amazing technology; buildings rose so high they could scrape the sky, and the lights were always on. It must have been beautiful.

"Hey."

Nooj's voice broke Gippal's daydreamy haze. He turned around, finding Nooj sitting as comfortably as the man really could ever sit. "You all set there, man?"

Nooj nodded. "Let's get this over with."

Nodding, Gippal crouched next to the man and set to work. For the Al Bhed, this was an exercise in fascination; the craftsmen who had made this wonderful machina that made up half of Nooj's body had been incredibly skilled to create something so advanced. Gippal had been watching Nooj and the way he worked with that side of himself, not only physically but mentally as well. It didn't take much for Gippal to deduce that Nooj's mindset, his bitterness toward life and his own forced continuation of it, was a result of the machina's influence on him. Sometimes Gippal wondered what Nooj had been like before this had happened to him -- had he been completely different? Had he always been the cold bastard that Gippal had come to love as a brother, or was that part of the machina's residue on his mind?

He had to force his mind to stop wandering. It was one thing to contemplate the fusion of human and machine, but it was another to contemplate that while trying to do maintenance.

After a bit of poking and prodding around the mechanics of the knee, Gippal found the troublesome part. The connector which allowed the mechanical knee to bend the limited amount that it could had come loose and dislodged one of the rods which ran down the shin, so to speak. No wonder it had been creaking. "Hey, I found it," he informed Nooj, looking up at the man for permission to fix it.

Nooj, eyes closed, nodded to Gippal.

Gippal smiled. Now this was the fun part.

Taking out a small screwdriver, he began to slowly loosen the little hidden screw behind the outer supports that would allow him access to the inner workings.

"Nh," Nooj vocalized, barely above a whisper.

As Gippal continued to work, he listened to Nooj's little breathy sounds and tried very hard to not get distracted by them. It was amazing, to Gippal, that this happened at all -- it was a sure sign that the machina had bonded in a way no one could have foreseen to Nooj's mind and nervous system. Gippal had read a little bit about the technology used in creating these artificial limbs -- they used technology that the Al Bhed had been afraid to try before, connecting the machina directly into the nervous system along the spine, running it using the nerves like wires to the brain where a tiny controller had been actually inserted into the cerebellum to coordinate the movements of the machina with the directions sent forth to the human limbs. Gippal figured that no one had figured that the brain would assimilate the controller into the workings of the rest of the brain, allowing it to have an influence on sensation and -- Gippal postulated -- cognition and personality.

Language, it seemed, was also affected by the little controller in Nooj's brain. Having been created by Al Bhed and implanted by Al Bhed, the controller itself probably only understood Al Bhed. Gippal was thankful that he had taught Nooj the language in their downtime during Crimson Squad training, or the fact that Nooj mumbled "Ah, Gippal, ed vaamc cu kuut" (it feels so good) when Gippal slid the shin-rod back into place would have been too weird for Gippal to handle.

"E ghuf, zicd uha suna meddma ped, ugyo Noojster?" (I know, just one more little bit, okay Noojster?) Gippal smiled as he slipped his fingers around the connector rods and gently rocked them back and forth to slide them fully into place. He, of course, took his time doing this since it obviously felt so good to Nooj.

Not to mention that this was the one time that Gippal would ever get to see Nooj vulnerable. He wished that Nooj could possibly tell him what it felt like so that Gippal could understand -- it was, in Gippal's estimation, almost like being able to actually talk to a machina and have it talk back, which was pretty much any Al Bhed's wet dream. The most Nooj had ever been able to tell him was that it was a "foreign stimulation, completely unknown to the human mind, but undoubtedly powerful enough to affect one's senses." When Gippal had asked if it was like a backrub from a really beautiful girl with strong hands, Nooj had smirked and informed him that it was like a backrub in which someone put their hands under your skin and rearranged all your innards.

Gippal couldn't possibly imagine what that felt like, but he had to take Nooj's word for it that it felt really great.

Finally, Gippal was able to slide the connector rod back into place, and anchored it fully with the screw that he had to contort his body in a strange position in order to reach. This was accompanied by swallowed gasps and almost inaudible moans from Nooj which made Gippal wonder if every time he tinkered with a machina without verbal capacity that he was really doing something akin to having sex with a mute woman. That, in turn, made him wonder if he was having machina-sex with Nooj right now.

The thought amused him more than it repulsed him.

"There," Gippal announced, patting Nooj's knee affectionately. "All better."

Nooj opened his eyes and, regaining his senses, flexed his leg. It moved as much as it normally did, and this time without the disturbing clunking noises. Nodding, Nooj said, "That's better, Gippal."

Gippal, after all his time knowing Nooj, realized that this was Noojspeak for 'thank you'. "You're welcome," he replied easily and casually, putting the tools back into his belt. Once he was done, he reached down to haul Nooj to his feet.

Nooj, however, had already gotten up and was walking back to the campsite.

Gippal shrugged and plopped himself down on the ground where Nooj had been sitting, realizing it was a perfect view of the ruins and the swarms of pyreflies that danced along the skyline.