ANBU

From the sea

sea/seas 

o/ocean 

bay/bayself 

shell/shells 

wave/waves

mer/maid 

dol/phin

We all know Michael Shelley is a reference to Mary Shelley, but I think the thematic parallels are also great.

Gertrude Robinson is the Victor Frankenstein to Michael’s monster, and proves herself to be the evil in his story with her inhumanely cruel treatment of him. She took something beautiful and innocent and twisted it into something grotesque and unnatural, and now Michael is a monster haunted by his resentment for her; so much so that his emotions of injustice and pain even get in the way of what/ who he actually is or has the potential to be.

And when you think of Michael by comparison to other avatars and their capacity for morality as well as how they also evolved into monsters, or even compared to Helen, there is a discordance in himself that constantly draws questions to his identity/humanity and the choices he makes. Michael resents himself and his creation to a degree far more severe than Helen, and I think this is not just because Michael Shelley was the antithesis of the Spiral, but because of how he was made and what it caused Michael to Feel. Much like Frankenstein’s monster it is the betrayal and the isolated abandonment that makes Michael’s Emotions so overwhelming it makes existence difficult. Helen didn’t have a problem with Jon because Helen Richardson didn’t. If Michael Shelley were truly gone what sense is there in having a vendetta against the archivist? Why be so frustrated by Michael Shelley’s weakness and insist his existence meant nothing and isn’t present?

Because the Distortion is a liar. Helen has no problems affirming her identity, and yet Michael insists it doesn’t have one. Just like the Monster hates himself and hates humanity. Michael’s hatred for the Archivist mirrors that of the Monster’s quest for vengeance against Frankenstein, and ultimately Michael died because Michael Shelley himself progressively warped into anger during its conjoined existence and it made him a liability.

I also think it could be said that the way Michael is uncanny in his appearance as the distortion, and how he’s essentially a human and a thing smashed together, is a parallel to the Monster- which was an amalgamation of beautiful parts that became disturbing as a whole.

Gertrude, much like Victor, fancied herself a genius with the right to mess with life for the supposed progression of humanity, and do so in a way that I believe stroked their ego and superiority by inflating their importance in the world by imposing the weight of their actions onto their victims- only to be proven wrong for their hubris.

Elias telling her the rituals meant nothing at the end is the climax for her story arc because it puts all of her actions into perspective for the reader, similarly to how the narrative shift to focus on the Monster’s capacity for understanding undermines Victor’s. Their actions resulted in needless suffering and amounted to nothing, and as their creations terrorize they make justifications for what they did as if their good intentions absolve their sins or covering their own ass is a reason to let someone else take the downfall. Then as they die finally fully aware of what they’ve done guilt is primarily tied to regret in being horrifically wrong rather than remorse for the suffering they caused. They lament that their creatures exist but they do not truly empathize with their pain because they are narcissists.

And the narrative of Viktor being an abusive parental figure could also be compared to Gertrude beyond just Michael in how she treats Gerry. Gerry and his relationship with Gertrude, while never soft, could have been perceived as his one attachment and opportunity for something akin to affection- and yet despite understanding the pain of being bound, despite Eric asking her to look after his son, she skinned him to the book and left him. And you could argue that this is probably done to prevent him from turning into an Avatar, but then again she is choosing to play god with someone else’s life.

Who is she to choose and deny him the right to live after leading him right into the hands of the fears, as if for some moral reason when she herself perpetuates the pain of others? And to do so in a way that inherently violates him in a way so specific to his abuse from his own mother, and cram him in the very book that haunts him is beyond sadistic. She proved to be the same as Mary Keay.

The real kicker is that Gertrude leaves him, just like Frankenstein refuses to confront the monster he made and abandons his newborn creation to suffer existence on its own once he realizes what he’s made. And Gerry points this out himself in his statement when he says “I think… I think I finally understand why she brought me back. I just don’t understand why she left me behind.”

It started when he was a kid, right after Ryan disappeared and the adults around him became frustrated by his confusing story. He was asked so many times what really happened that day, and he never had an answer to give. Not even to himself.

It wasn't long before their frustration crawled under his skin and became something he internalized. He spent a long time being mad at himself for being too disoriented by what happened that day to be of any help to Ryan in the aftermath. Yet, he was upset with someone else too: The adults who wouldn't believe that something strange had happened to him. Who wouldn't just say "Yes. That sounds scary. I'm sorry you had to go through that," instead of "That couldn't have happened."

When he joined The Magnus Institute, that angry part of him was giddy to have the chance to prove them wrong. He wanted to find books and statements about missing people that would give him the chance to say "See! I was right all along!" But he didn't. And every time it seemed like he stumbled on something close Emma would run up behind him and put all his eagerness to rest with a reasonable explanations.

That only made Michael's frustration grow. He was in the one place he could hope to find answers, and he was still just as lost as when he started. He could feel himself become a little angrier everyday, but he shoved it all down to be just as pleasant and kind as he always was. After all, he didn't want to scare his frail, timid, elderly boss by having a meltdown and ripping down every shelf in the place until he found the information that would validate him. So he just bottled it all up.

michael speaks slowly, emphasizing everything, giving you the idea that he's lying to you, but you're never quite sure. and that's the fear. that your own mind is lying to you, that you're going insane, that you can't trust anything you believe. this fear was present in michael shelley's life very prominently, from his childhood all the way to the very nature of his death.

after a while, though, helen speaks with confidence and certainty, leaving no room for doubt, you know she's lying. you know she is. but you can't prove it. and that, too, is the fear. that you're right, but nobody will ever believe you. that it's all fake, everything society is built on is fake and you're the only one who knows. and i feel like the little bit that we know about helen richardson also embodies this fear: she was a real estate agent, a very stereotypically deceptive job. i don't think it's far-fetched to say she probably lied quite a lot to her clients, all while aware of the reality of the situation herself. the idea of being the only one who knows just how fake everything is but never being able to tell anyone.