Disclaimer: These are not my characters, nor am I claiming them to be. They are the sole property of Squaresoft. I am only borrowing them for the purpose of telling a story. No copyright infringement is intended.

"Celes Wipes the Record Clean"

by Missy Minerva

a_red_thread@hotmail.com

One thing you should know straight off the bat. Never mix suicide and politics. Or was that war and suicide? Actually, I'm pretty sure it was sex and politics. Oh, hell with it. Just leave suicide plain alone, okay?

My reasons for stating the above comments are quite obvious. If you have attempted or plan to commit, you will be seen as therefore crazy. An unstable individual. A psycho nut-box. And therefore, unsuitable for politics.

Okay, I guess some of you will be needing a flashback right about here (simpletons), so here goes. Try to follow with me now. When I was a little girl I was tinkered with, as they say. Had genetic probing and all that fun stuff. Actually, it starts before all that. I was conceived, or rather, "created" in a petri dish. I'm not a true person. So who then can really blame me for being the way I am? Okay, so I don't believe any of that. I'm responsible for my own actions, right? Hell yeah! So why the flashback? Oh yeah, so you can see the mechanism of my madness, as it is. Right.

So then I'm taught all this army shit. That alone is enough to make a person as cracked as a pecan, but I have this totally wacked out man as a superior (or at least that's how I'll explain it here. Much, much too complicated.) So I learn to kill, and kill I do. Not just pull the trigger, bang, dead, either. I tortured and killed entire cities and then burned them to oblivion. It wasn't my fault that I was raised to do so. But somewhere along the way I realized it was wrong. Hey, who says a cold-hearted bitch has no feelings?

So worse come to worse, yada yada yada, and I end up in the uncomfortable predicament of being a traitor and a member of the rebellion. And in love, for God's sake, how could I forget that? Actually, it's my own brand of complicated love-hate. Confusing shit. You see, being genetically engineered can leave you pretty screwed. Oh, sorry, there I go again will the whole "It's not my fault" thing. Sorry. I'll try to stay focused here.

So, where was I? Oh yes, the ruin. Then the world just blows up, and sadly, not even in the metaphorical sense. I'm flung onto this island to wake up three years later. Not three days, not three weeks, and not three months. Three freakin' years! So then I wake up and realize that all my friends, including the love of my life, are either dead or lost forever. Except for the mad scientist, the one who made me. Yeah, he's still alive, and in my pathetic state I even took to calling him my grandfather. What a deranged girl I was. Then he dies from food poisoning, and though I was eating the same food I was not the least affected. Why? (It was a set up, I tell you! A conspiracy!) So that leaves me with no choice but to commit. See? Can't you see my reasoning? The cliffs were just calling to me.

Okay, by now you must think "Man., this woman is completely deranged alright!" but it's not so. I've seen how pointless it would have been and have seen the error of my ways. Wait, no I haven't! It's called compassion people!!! You wouldn't understand. It's not like there was a hospice around to supply me with any antidepressants, so what did you expect? Really!

Well then, that's all there is to say on that regard. Now where was I? Oh yes, the politics. You see, I've been elected for the position of governor of the district of Vector. After the world crumbled, you see, they have been attempting to restructure the society as such. There are no more armies, so my expertise (ha!) was needed in this form of occupation. Surprisingly enough, I want it. I need this position. As a distraction. Unless the aforementioned love interest suddenly shows up to sweep me away to fields of unknown pleasure. But he's as reliable as a stick in the wind and the boys got issues of his own to deal with so I guess that won't be happening. So politics it is, then.

At this point, the slower readers are wondering "What the hell is the problem, then?" Well, here it is. After this whole incident with the rebellion and ruin, etc., I fell into a deep depression (yet again) and saw a shrink. Yeah, that was mistake number one, right there. But my little "love boy" has caused me a lot of problem with the whole dead girlfriend thing so let's just leave it at that. It was airing out dirty laundry. So one thing leads to another (as they say) and I blurt out the whole incident with the cliffs and the poison fish and the pigeon with the blue bandanna. God, I must have sounded nuttier than a three dollar bill. But oh, I was. Was I ever.

Anyway, the fact that this whole incident now exists in my permanent records at the hospice is really eating me alive. It only takes some clever conniving individual to figure out that this could ruin my entire career. Or even stop it before it begins. So what's a girl to do? What would any sane individual do in this situation? Of course, I'm going to try to break into my hospice files and steal anything pertaining to the whole ordeal. Wouldn't you do the same, given my situation?

You see, that's how the game is played, my dear friends.

So that's the situation and where it leaves me. Right now I'm in the reception room waiting to be called in to see the lovely Doctor what-was-his-name? I forget. Anyway, that was hardly important. He has my files. I want my files.

It's pretty hot in this waiting room. Actually, it's so hot the wallpaper is just about peeling off the walls. I'm forced to sit around with all these old women and young men staring at me as if I was carved right out of porcelain. Hello, there! Can you say, "genetically engineered"? Well let's try it, shall we? Repeat after me. Genetically engin......oh, you're still here? Sorry.

I'm starting to get really annoyed at these people, and thankfully, I'm finally called in to see the doctor. Dr. Embden. That was his name. The receptionist, who looks like she'd rather be eating glass than working here, leads me into that horrid little room. I guess it's not so bad compared to the one that I could have been placed in. The one with the padded walls. I won't be stuck in there, either. Not if I have any say in the matter.

So I'm waiting on the examination table and sweating from this sickly heat. I hope that I get my opportunity today because it's getting harder and harder to make appointments. More so, harder to fake injuries or medical conditions. You can only get leg cramps so many times and doctors tend to know when you aren't really sick, so that limits my excuses considerably. I'm almost to the point of trying to break into the hospice in the middle of the night but that's really just too over the top. Besides, with the time it would take for me to locate my file amid the sea of potential folders., I'd be caught before I even had a chance. No, I'm going to have to make a move, and soon. I'm running out of ailments. And today, you ask? Well, it's not like it's actually possibly for me to be pregnant but still, it's easy to pretend. Easily remedied. And it sure beats the whole pap smear idea. This guy's really creepy, so I'm saving that for my last resort.

I can hear the doctor outside the door now. He rushes in and greets me as if I'm some kind of old friend (this guy should be the one running for politics). Well, I suppose I am pretty familiar after all the times I've tried this scheme. Damn thing just isn't as easy as it sounds.

He's busying himself with small talk. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I mutter back at him, but the real focus of my attention is that little manila folder. "Celes Chere" is written across it in black ink. Perhaps if I could just change the name and they'd forget I even existed. Yeah, and maybe Palidor^* will just swoop down and take me away from my troubles. Ummmm, yeah. Whatever.

"So Celes, my dear" He starts. I'm trying to feign interest in what he's saying but I have to stay alert in case I get an opening to strike. "What makes you suspect that you have been impregnated?"

Talk like this makes me want to hurl. He obviously thinks way too highly of himself. I want to yell some obscene kinky thing at him but that's not in my best interest right now. Fake it I must, and fake it I will. "Morning sickness."

"The stomach flu is going around, you know." He smiles at me with that sick I'm-a-loving-doctor face.

"No, I've been....." Oh God, this almost makes me laugh. He's so earnest. "Active."

"Well then, I see..." These formalities are aggravating me. This whole room aggravates me. He's on his feet now. "I'll go get you a test."

And yes, at last, I have a chance. Sorry doc, but I'm afraid I won't be needing that test. Just these files. that will be all. I can barely keep from laughing out loud. The folder is soft in my hands like silk. I can almost taste the victory, yadda yadda yadda. Hmmm, let's see, birth records, first dental appointment, genetic blah blah blah, and what do we have here? Psychiatrists report. Well, I do believe I'll be relieving them of this.

"Mrs. Chere." Omigod the doctor's outside the door. Drop folder. Sit down. Shit!

"Ummm, yes?" It's rather hard to fake boredom when you're hyperventilating, you know.

"According to your records you've been genetically altered?"

"A little" Bullshit. More like in every conceivable way.

"Well, I believe that you may be in fact sterile." Omigod, now what? He's on to me. He has to be. Dumbass isn't as dumb as he looks.

"What? I..." My only option. Thankfully, tears are easier to fake when you’re hyperventilating. Much easier.

"Oh, Mrs. Chere. I'm sorry...." Insincere bastard.

"But I....." Boy, am I ever wailing now. This had better work.

"Wait here. I'll check in to it." He's gotten all protective and male. Males are so easily manipulated by tears, it makes me laugh. Or sick to my stomach. Either way, it works.

So as easy as that. is it? He's gone now and the file is as good as mine. Needless to say, I'm out of here fast. But not without sobbing my way past the doctor, receiving his condolences and best regards (retch, retch). So I won’t be having any babies. Who cares? They get in the way of politics too. And they smell bad.

So now, outside the hospice, I can finally breath again. The record is so easily wiped clean, isn't it? Yeah right. But that's all behind me now. Pity I don't have my magic anymore. I could torch the sheet of paper into a million particles of ash and dust. Actually, shag that. A match will do. Ahhh, burns nicely doesn't it? Who says I'm as cold as ice? Let's call it a new beginning. Like the Phoenix. Yeah, like Locke's dead girlfriend. Hmmm, yeah. Nevermind. Anyway, I'm free! Yeah, I'd say that too. Life is definitely looking up.

Ready when you are, politics!

*After magic was destroyed, wiped clean from the planet, the Espers were taken on as Saints. Token gods, if you prefer. Each being the patron of its own power or special interest. Palidor being the Esper god of freedom and journeys, of course.

Authors Note: I know this is a very different characterization of Celes than the one you may be used to seeing, but who's to say she's hasn't got a bit of Kefka's crazy streak herself? I think the whole icy exterior thing has to be hiding a complex mental process. I decided to play with the character and have some fun with her for once. Anyway, that's my justification. This was really just a bit of fun. My true take on Celes is quite a bit different as I find her to be one of the more interesting (and complex) characters in the story. It bothers me to see her stereotyped into the whole lovesick thing with her falling all over Locke (though I believe they are in love by all means, she's not so helpless as to admit it like that.) or the cold hearted depiction of her that doesn't suit her sensitive side at all. Yeah, she has a major conflict between her loyalties and her ideals and that's what makes her so interesting.

Where did this colourful story come from, you ask? It just developed one day on a trip to the doctor. Haven't you ever thought about that sort of thing? There are lots of things on the medical records of people that I know that they would like to have erased. So how about actually doing it? Ahhh, the impossible dream. A clean slate. And I figured Celes needed one of those more than most. Well, if it entertained you or changed your view of the character, I've done my job.

Comments are always appreciated.