Tag Archives: rationalist writing

Chapter 139: Borrowed Strength

Okay, this month will still have some traveling in it but much less than the last few, and hopefully we can get this train back on its tracks until it reaches the final station. Thanks for your patience, and hope you enjoy the chapter!


Chapter 139: Borrowed Strength

It takes Blue one day to conclude that Viridian Gym doesn’t seem to have any unique culture, and two battles to realize it does; they’re just hiding it.

It’s not like Surge or Erika’s gyms, where the members use clothing and distinct social norms to create an alternate culture. It’s not like Koga or Blaine’s gyms, where the Leader sets a strong top-down expectation that everyone does their best to abide by.

Instead, it operates mostly like Brock and Misty and Sabrina’s gyms, with an obvious speciality in a particular pokemon type… and an additional, much less obvious specialty that no one seems to talk about.

Blue felt it in his first evaluation match. With 7 badges, he was paired up against one of the most senior members in the gym, a woman nearly as old as gramps… who nearly beat him by swapping between a torterra and a quagsire that covered his whole team on their own.

It was humbling, and then it happened again with his next opponent, whose mamoswine shrugged off Soul’s Flamethrower and was swapped out for an absurdly thirsty gastrodon as soon as Maturin was sent in.

Blue only managed to win both times by throwing his whole belt at them. He tried to talk about their strategies and training regimen after, and was told to “puzzle it out on your own, if you can,” and even knowing he might be getting baited, that’s not a challenge he could turn down.

A day of watching battles among gym members makes it clear that even the newer members have trained their pokemon to hyper-specialize, and not always to that pokemon’s strengths.

“I saw an absurdly tanky krookodile, a rhyperior built for speed, and a mixed-attacking excadrill,” he tells Elaine as he walks the short distance from the gym to the trainer house he’s staying in. “They don’t just do it to take their opponents by surprise, it’s all about what team they’re part of. I watched the gym’s Second battle a few times, and I swear he has three different fully trained flygon that he uses in three different teams.”

“So it’s like Koga’s gym, sort of?” Elaine’s voice is muffled through his earpiece, noise cancellation keeping him from hearing what’s probably lots of wind, and he pictures her standing on one Cinnabar Gym’s balconies. “But no, from what you’re describing, they wouldn’t say ‘this blastoise is my tank,’ they would say ‘this blastoise is the tank for my team that specifically needs a tanky blastoise,’ and it just… wouldn’t get used in any other teams?”

“Yeah. It’s all kinds of expensive but incredibly effective if you can pull it off, which apparently the gym members can. People coming for their badges are mostly early in their journeys, they don’t have the resources or the skill for it, but I’ve already noticed some of the smarter ones pick up on the idea that they should be training their pokemon to fit together more deliberately.”

“Hm. That seems potentially bad, though? It’s an unrealistic standard when you’re just starting out and at higher risk of losing pokemon.”

“True. I’d call it gatekeeping, but… they’re not making it a condition of joining the gym, it’s just a powerful enough effect that if you don’t do it you get wrecked.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Her tone is teasing. “You said Fuchsia was your last revolution, and then…”

“Cinnabar was a special case. I mean it this time, I’m going straight for the badge, no membership, no culture building.” He didn’t mention Giovanni’s offer to her or Glen, or anyone else. He trusts them not to think he’d take a free win even if offered it, but his private talks with Leaders always feel… well, private, but also something more. Mildly sacred.

“But if you did have time…”

“Oh, I’m actually all about it.” He grins. “If anything I guess I might push for them to actually teach it, directly? It’s alluded to in the classes but not taught, and I’d call that a dereliction of duty except I get it, like you said most young trainers aren’t well positioned to try it. Even older trainers still on their journey are actually better off with a team of generalists that collectively cover all their bases.”

“So maybe teaching it to anyone outside the gym would be actually counterproductive.”

“Right, but it’s also definitely the edge that someone needs to beat the Elite Four. It’s not really a strategy, if anything it’s a meta-strategy that you then still have to work to create yourself, but it puts their teams on a whole other level. The fact that the gym is focused on Ground types is basically the only reason they’re beatable.”

“If I’m hearing you right, that means you’re going to have to retrain all your pokemon, or get new ones?”

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m going to one-shot Giovanni like this. I need a team deliberately built to beat him, with each mon trained to work together to do it.”

“Which means lots of extra training, and I’m guessing that’s where we come in?” He can hear her smile over the phone. “I’ll let everyone know. A few were just wrapping up their business in Cinnabar anyway, and Glen was planning to head there as soon as he gets his badge.”

“What about you?”

“Your last gym? Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ve already made spreadsheets of all the 8-badge teams Giovanni ever fielded for my game, sharing them with you now so you can start flowcharting.”

Flowcharting makes him think of Red, a flash of his pale, sweaty face lying still in his hospital bed causing Blue to falter mid-step. He feels a cold lump in his throat, like he swallowed a ghost that’s slowly sinking down into a hollow in his chest… a hollow that grows with each passing week that Red stays in his not-quite-a-coma-but-the-doctors-don’t-know-what-else-to-call-it.

Blue starts walking again, eyes scanning around to see if anyone noticed him abruptly going still on the sidewalk. Thankfully it’s dark enough that he’s probably not going to be recognized from a distance unless he’s under a streetlight.

He misses Red on a practical level, but he’s also scared for him in a way he’s never been before… and that fear bleeds into his worry about the next calamity. If Rocket attacks and Red doesn’t show up to stop them, they’ll get bolder. If he, Koga, and Leaf can’t reach a deal with the ninja (specifically one that stops them from appearing to capitulate while letting a subgroup splinter off) he’ll have dangerously equipped political rivals once he becomes Champion…

“Blue? Still there?”

“Yeah,” he says after another moment to recover. “Thanks, Elaine. I’ll look it over before I check the market.”

“Finally time to throw your money into the arena, huh?” She laughs as she hears him sigh. “It’s fine, Blue. Anyone who judges you for using every advantage you have before facing Giovanni at 8 can do it themselves, and if they win, well, they’ll probably deserve to beat you too.”

Blue smiles. “Fair.” It still stings, given how hard he worked to avoid buying pokemon for the past few badges, but he can’t deny that it helped hone him into a better trainer. Now he needs to become an even stronger one, and new, raw pokemon are the material he needs to do it. “Let me know if you need anything from my end.”

“Same to you. Home stretch, right? Exciting.”

“Yeah.” His smile fades. “Exciting.”

“See you soon.”

“See you.” He ends the call and walks the rest of the way with his gaze down, trying to push away the hollow ache in his chest.

Blue does his best to put on a smile as he arrives at the Trainer House, greets the receptionists warmly, and returns a few waves by the trainers in the lobby as he makes his way to the elevator. Most of them are young and new to their journeys… which is to say, they’re about his age. Yesterday he even saw a classmate from Pallet Town, here for his first badge. They’d been friendly acquaintances, but there were years of new experiences between them now that made them practically strangers.

Again the mental flash of Red lying in bed. Again the growing of the hollow void in his chest.

He reaches his room and rests against the door for a moment after he closes it, eyes shut as he taps his earpiece. “Call: Aunt Laura.”

Red’s mom picks up after one ring. “Hi, Blue. Everything okay?” She sounds tired enough that she’s not trying to hide it from him, and his heart aches a little more to hear it.

“M’alright. Just checking in.”

“I appreciate that.” He can hear a bit more life enter her voice. “Actually, I was thinking of messaging you and the others. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

The hollowness is gone, and Blue straightens away from the door as his heart starts to beat faster. “Is he…?”

“It’s hard to say. There’s been a change, it may just be variance. Still, I noticed that… his sleep seemed more peaceful. The doctor admitted his signs were a bit better, but,” Laura lowers her voice. “I’m waiting for a psychic to come by and confirm it. Still, he’s been sleeping for nearly three hours straight, now, without any issue or intervention.”

Some of the hollowness fills in, and he feels tears gathering in his eyes. “That’s… really great news. I’m glad.”

“Me too. How are you, honey, really?”

“I’m fine, Aunty. Really. Just… missing him.”

He hears her sharp breath over the phone, and her next words are watery. “Me too. I’ll tell him you called.”

“Thanks. I’ll come by again this weekend.”

“I’ll tell him that too.”

In case he can hear us. In case he understands. In case he’s not permanently brain damaged.

His own breath catches, and he forces his voice to be normal. “Night, Aunty.”

“Goodnight, Blue. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He closes the call and stays at the door for another minute, then drags himself to the shower, letting the hot water wash away his tears until he feels wrung out.

He should be happier. He was, when he heard the news. It’s good news. He should be more hopeful, not less.

He stays in the shower until the water runs cold, then finally shuts it off and prepares for bed. He lies under the covers with his computer on his lap, tabs open to check listings for Flying, Water, Grass, and Ice pokemon, building hypothetical rosters on his phone and running sims with them against each listed team Giovanni has fielded in the past, until that starts to feel too restrictive. As far as he can tell, Giovanni hasn’t repeated a single full lineup for an 8-badge match. Blue should assume he’ll swap at least one pokemon from a previous team.

Nidoking or Rhyperior to lead, Camerupt and Swampert to pivot, Excadrill and Garchomp to sweep… Or maybe Flygon or Hippodon to lead, Steelix and Quagsire to pivot? The pain of losing Gon to the renegade below Silph strikes Blue anew. I’d need a new breloom altogether anyway, he tries consoling himself. One trained specifically for maximum strength and can swap with a tanky pelipper…

He exchanges messages with his friends as he goes, asking for feedback and thoughts. He even sends a few messages to Leaf, more for the benefit of her training than because he expects her to have novel insights. But he also keeps catching himself typing to Red before remembering and stopping himself. The third time it happens he sets the laptop aside, palms pressed to his eyelids.

It was good news. Laura shared good news. He should be heartened.

At this rate, Red might only sleep through Blue’s eighth badge, rather than waking up after Blue has already become Champion.

And there might not be all that much brain damage. And he probably won’t be as crazy as Rowan was. And he may even still remember who he or any of his friends are.

It’s something all the psychics have warned about. I feel like I’m trying to empty a pool with a cup, Jason said when Blue asked. The analogy probably wasn’t deeply thought through, but Blue couldn’t help but wonder…

What else are you scooping out?

What’s going to be left, when all the water’s gone?

Blue thought he was humbled when he lost against Brock in his first challenge. He thought he was humbled when they lost Aiko in the storm, or when he struggled to take down a couple renegades while Red took on a whole damn building full of them.

It still felt good, knowing Red was rising with him. Knowing that they would be working side by side to keep Indigo safe. Humbling, but good.

Then the unown attacked, and Red got his brain scrambled stopping Rowan, and they just have to hope that another crazy psychic doesn’t pop out of the tall grass, or else that Sabrina or Agatha or Will could stop them if they do and not get knocked out themselves in the process. Worse, they have to hope that Rocket doesn’t attack again and find out Red isn’t around to check any new major attacks.

Too many threats that Blue can’t deal with on his own. Outside the remit of Champion, sure, but whomever he ends up needing to work with to keep the region safe, he wants Red to be among them.

He wants his friend to be among them.

Blue wipes his eyes again, then opens his message history with Red. The last thing he sent him was some random slowpoke meme that Glen shared, and the grief hits him anew.

hey bud. missing you a lot tonight

His fingers have typed it out without much thought, and now hover over the send button.

Blue takes a breath, and almost deletes the words… then taps the button to send them instead.

Breath out. Breath in.

The hollowness in his chest is a little smaller.

Blue lifts his phone to take a picture of the flowchart he’s made so far.

what do you think? missing anything obvious?

Blue sends both the picture and the text, then just lies there for a while. As if he’s waiting for Red to respond.

A few months ago, after a chat with Duncan, Blue asked Red and Leaf about their “shoulder” versions of each other. Red seemed surprised, but admitted he got a lot of good advice and help from his “inner Blue and Leaf simulations,” while Leaf admitted that hers of Blue and Red had been helpful too, though not as talkative as Red’s seemed to be.

Blue’s inner-Red and inner-Leaf seem even less talkative. But maybe that’s something he can work on.

He looks over the lists again, then the flowchart, trying to specifically recall the way Red talked about the previous gym challenges.

im worried about the pivots, Blue sends, remembering that some of Red’s most helpful comments came from Blue just thinking out loud to him about his strategies. ground and rock have too much coverage together, and every ground type can learn rock moves, and he’s definitely going to have a water/ground that has ice attacks too in case i bring a flygon or gligar… i guess if i buy a skarmory i just have to worry about camerupt and stunfisk…

He types his thoughts to Red, pausing between each to give his mind time to imagine his friend’s response.

Why don’t you make a status team?

immune to paralysis, strong against poison and fire types, ice and sleep are unreliable… leech seed definitely worth having though

Maybe something too weird to predict? He’ll expect one ice type, what if you bring six?

and what, just try to brute force down his ice counters? it would make the rest easy if i can, but big gamble

All Fighting types?

why would that help?

He won’t expect it!

might as well bring all dragons then

Well, why not? Is this a fame and status thing again?

Blue isn’t typing his responses anymore, instead playing the argument out in his head. He’s frowning at his phone as though Red is actually responding, though.

yes, it is, but also it would be robbing myself of an actual power up. i’m not just trying to win, i need to figure out how to make a team good enough to beat him, or else someone else on victory road who did will beat me, and if i do it with a team of dragons then people will be ready for that

Well, if you’re not sure how to break through his pivots when he’s expecting you to bring Ground counters, I still think the answer is to surprise him somehow. You had lots of ideas of how you’d create your perfect team someday, right? Why not just pick one of those that has a particularly good anti-Ground focus?

Blue sits up, a little at first as the idea starts to unfold, then fully as it takes hold, a mix of memories and excited imagination. He did have a lot of ideas for this, before they left for their journey…

He digs through old folders on his computer until he first finds the original “dream team” he developed for becoming Champion, as well as the hypothetical ideal he created for each Leader. Skimming it now makes him snort—lots of dragons, of course, with a smattering of anti-Steel and anti-Ice pokemon to balance them out.

He re-archives the files and keeps digging for the more realistic hypothetical teams he imagined catching throughout Kanto. An arcanine shows up, of course, as does a gyarados, and an exeggcutor for reasons he can’t quite remember. Again he puts those back in the archive after a quick skim, a little embarrassed by how much his younger self still had yet to learn despite the confidence he still remembers feeling so well.

Finally he reaches the lists he and Red made when they started planning their journey route, and he could predict what sort of pokemon he might find along the way to each gym. It holds up surprisingly well; pidgeot, of course, and arcanine, and sandslash… a golduck, which he hasn’t felt a need for given his starter, but also a beedrill, which he remembers wanting to pick up for Erika…

Blue archives the documents again, then re-opens the first and second to cross-reference them with some of the more expensive pokemon on the market. In many ways he’s far luckier than his younger self could have imagined, and if he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it right… not just for getting his 8th badge from Giovanni, but for Victory Road as well.

He doesn’t have Red at his side for now, but that doesn’t mean his friend doesn’t still need Blue to help keep him safe.

He’s earned a rest. It’s all of them that need to pick up the slack, now.


Swish. Swoosh. Swish. Swoosh.

Leaf doesn’t quite lounge on the couch of the Indigo League waiting room, but it’s hard not to. It’s plush and comfy enough to sleep on; the room in general looks more like a hotel lobby than a government building. Not a fancy one, there aren’t marble tiles or intricate chandeliers or anything, but it’s certainly a step up from the mayor’s office in Pewter.

Swish. Swoosh. Swish.

The receptionist glances up from her monitor to where Leaf is trailing her hand back and forth across the back of the couch, enjoying the slightly-fuzzy texture. Leaf smiles at her, and the receptionist smiles back and returns to her work.

She still remembers how it felt, sitting in Mayor Kito’s waiting room. There’s nothing to be worried about, and being nervous will just make things harder. A thought that helped calm her nerves a little, at the time. But this situation isn’t really like that one. There’s plenty to be worried about, and… nervous isn’t quite what she’s feeling.

It’s much more comparable to the questioning at the Celadon police department after the quakes. She remembers that nervousness; her sweaty palms, the knotted feeling in her stomach, the way her heart pounded as she was questioned about the data leaked from the casino’s hidden lab…

“They’re ready for you, Miss Juniper.”

“Thank you.” Leaf arrived just a few minutes ago, but wouldn’t have minded a longer wait on the comfy couch, which is maybe a sign that she needs to get more sleep. She pushes herself to her feet and walks toward the door on legs that don’t tremble, opens it with a hand free of sweat…

…and faces Champion Lance, Special Administrator Looker, Director Tsunemori, Elite Agatha, and Professor Oak.

The tension in the room gets to her in a way waiting outside didn’t. People’s expressions range from calm masks to openly frustrated, and she feels tension slowly coiling in her stomach.

But she still doesn’t feel cowed. Every time she feels the temptation to bow her head or give in to her doubts, she remembers Red fighting for his sanity day after day, and she feels her back stiffen, her chin rising higher. She saves her tears for when she’s alone, or among family and friends.

“Miss Juniper,” Lance says. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. The Professor said this is about my stories?” She looks to Professor Oak, who nods and gives her a slight (encouraging?) smile… but the tension in him is still obvious.

“You want me to give up my source.” She is carefully keeping her gaze on the Champion, but she sees Professor Oak shake his head and turns back to him.

“It’s okay, Leaf. I’ve already told them about Dr. Fuji.” He sighs, looking worn and old. “I was so relieved when Laura found him. I hadn’t really expected her to. But I was also wary. His behavior was odd, his story of what he’s been doing for years didn’t add up, and… part of me knew that someone who disappears for a decade to work on top secret research may not always engage in ethical research. I wanted to believe in him, but his second disappearance… if there’s anything he told you that might help us locate him, or any notes on the story he told you that might—”

“I still can’t be compelled to reveal any such notes,” Leaf says. She didn’t bring a lawyer, but she did read up on her rights. “Can I?”

“No,” Lance says. “But I’ll remind you that you’re a guest in this region.” He glances at Professor Oak, who’s frowning at him now. “A highly vouched for guest, yes. Many would even say a heroic one, myself included. But when it comes to Indigo’s security, we can’t take chances that you aren’t being used unwittingly.”

Leaf’s heart beats a little faster, but she does her best to keep her face calm. It feels like they’re going to bring up the ninja story at any moment, but if they don’t, she’s still not sure what all this is even about…

She turns to Looker. “I’m confused. If I’d wanted to keep Dr. Fuji’s secrets, why would I have helped find the lab in Cinnabar?”

“It’s like the Champion said; Fuji, or the Dreamer, may have wanted to use Leaf the pokemon-rights-advocate. But that Leaf shares a body and mind with Leaf the intrepid young reporter.” Looker’s smile is wry. “Even the best manipulator can’t predict everything a person’s going to do.”

“And if you’re being psychically influenced, they can’t be controlling you all the time,” Elite Agatha says.

“Influ—what are you talking about?”

“Nine days ago the dreamer spoke with me,” Champion Lance said. “They threatened to stop the unown research themselves if we didn’t. As of this morning, fifteen people across four labs have abruptly decided they would rather find a different field to work in. All cited a growing fear of the risks, the doom foretold by the dreams, or both.”

“Some have moved on to other projects,” Professor Oak says. “Ones they claim they’ve always been more excited to work on, passions that they’ve been putting off for one reason or another. Others have decided to start advocating against unown research.” He shakes his head, face drawn. “It’s what I hoped for, when I called for a pause on unown research. But not like this.”

“Okay,” Leaf says, speaking slowly as hear heart pounds against her ribs. “That… definitely sounds suspicious. But you have no proof it was them yet, right? They haven’t claimed credit?”

“No, but the ability to do this reveals more than we dared fear of their abilities,” Elite Agatha says. “I took for granted that, if roused to act, the Dreamer might send the nightmares again, perhaps worse than before, or perhaps concentrated in one of the cities with a lab, night after night, holding it hostage. This is much more subtle, much more troubling, and worst of all, when it gets out—”

“It’ll turn public opinion against psychics,” Leaf says, feeling numb. All of Red’s hard work…

“And justifiably,” Tsunemori says, voice quiet but firm. “Most of the people in this room are charged with protecting people, in this region and others. The public trusts us with power insofar as we can tell them, honestly, that we can help keep them safer against things they can’t protect against on their own. If that stops being true, what comes next… if we do not descend into anarchy, it would be because we return to an age of brutal warlords.”

Leaf wants someone to disagree, but the room is silent. The numbness is fading, the horror rising to take its place.

She still distinctly remembers the conversation above Cinnabar’s secret lab, with Red and Blue and Jensen and the rangers. Ira had been the one to suggest that the hybrid might be manipulating people’s minds, and it seemed like he, Blue, and Jensen were prepared to assume the worst of them, to treat them like a manipulator and murderer just because they were powerful and unusual.

Tsunemori is saying more of the same. If the hybrid really is manipulating people… Leaf can’t defend that, but she also wants to understand why, what would drive them to do such a thing.

Most people won’t. They’ll want to be safe, at all costs. And she can’t fault them, not really, but if the Champion treated the hybrid like a threat from the start, maybe they didn’t have a chance to actually reach for a mutual understanding…

Eventually Elite Agatha stirs. “There are many psychics who have wondered, deep down, how far they could push projection. How deep.” She meets Leaf’s gaze. “I’ve examined those who changed their minds about unown research, and thankfully whatever the Dreamer did, it leaves traces. It’s important that we can say with some confidence that even a monstrously powerful projector like the Dreamer, the likes of which the world has never seen before, can’t act with impunity. That people can still trust their leaders to be free of manipulation.”

“Assuming you’re not compromised yourself, of course,” Looker says.

Agatha smiles. “Of course. Which you all have no reason to believe, given how hopeless this investigation would be anyway if I am, but the public doesn’t, which means more conspiracy theories. I’m looking forward to them already.”

Leaf’s heart sinks as she finally understands why she’s really here. “I trust you, Elite.” She meets the old woman’s gaze. She’s been to visit Red a dozen times in the past couple weeks, and knows how hard the Elite has been working to help him… which, thankfully, seems to actually be paying off. The last time she went to visit Red, he’d been sleeping peacefully, and just the sight of it made her heart ease in a way that it hasn’t been since she first learned of his “injury” facing Rowan. “Do it.”

Professor Oak stirs. “Leaf, you—”

“It’s okay. I’ve gone through something similar, before.” To be allowed to stay at the Cinnabar lab excavation. “And I want to know.” She looks back at Agatha. “I need to. But I’m guessing this is going to be extremely thorough, rather than just a few pointed questions to get a sense of my intent?”

“Yes.”

“Then I have a request.”

The Elite nods. “I can guess what it is, but go on.”

“If you’re going to want me to think of the meetings I had with Dr. Fuji, as well as times I thought about writing the story… there are things I know that are secret, and for very good reason.” And some things I’ve done that may be illegal. “I don’t think I can keep myself from thinking about them entirely with those prompts.”

“I’ve merged with many minds over the course of my life, child.” Agatha bobs her head briefly. “It takes a lot for me to judge others, these days, and even more for me to share their secrets. Just do your best, and try not to stress about it. You have my word, I won’t use anything I see against you or those you’re trying to protect.”

Leaf lets out a breath and nods, then closes her eyes and waits for Agatha to merge with her. She wishes for the hundredth time at least that she was at least “sensitive” so she could feel it if that happened.

“Alright, let’s start where it makes sense. Maybe they got to you earlier, but the most likely chain is they got to Laura first, then got her to bring you in for more influencing. Think of that first meeting… that’s it. I know it’s been a while, but try to take me through it sequentially as best you can… Good…”

Leaf does her best to follow one prompt after another, reliving her experiences with Dr. Fuji, her decision to write the story from his notes and outline, and the many days and nights spent turning them little by little into an actual novel.

Along the way she manages to use her anti-psychic training to not think of too many associated things her mind would normally wander to, and she mostly manages to avoid thinking of secrets that belong to others… but she utterly fails not to think of her other fiction regarding the ninjas, and her meetings with Leader Koga and Janine that inspired it; the process was too similar, and while she does her best to avoid following memory trails through the conversation with Koga’s old clan, she’s too worried about it to fully succeed.

“Breathe, Leaf. That’s it.” Nothing in Agatha’s tone indicates surprise, and Leaf can’t help but wonder if she already knew, somehow, and what it might mean about her potential involvement. “Almost done. Just think of the day you found the lab in Cinnabar…”

A few more prompts, while Leaf does her best to keep her body relaxed and her breathing steady, until finally…

“I think that’s it,” Agatha says. “Rest easy, Leaf. So far as I can tell, you’ve reached all your motivations and actions honestly.”

Is there a hint of irony there? No, surely Leaf is just oversensitive, and still expecting the other shoe to drop. It takes her a few breaths before relief starts to seep in.

“So what now?” she asks, glad her voice sounds mostly steady.

“Now we apologize for the intrusion, and ask for your help,” Lance says. “As I said, you’re a visitor here, but you’re one we’d be proud to call our own. Your assistance with the renegades and local incidents, your work with the Safari Zone, the investigations you’ve done… I would understand if you believe you’ve done enough, and if you’re angry for suspicion. But you are, currently, our best chance of finding the Dreamer and ending this.”

“‘Ending’ how?” Leaf asks, stomach clenching.

“By persuasion, ideally,” Agatha says. “We’re not looking to start a fight.”

“But we do need to prepare for one, if they won’t listen to reason,” Tsunemori says. The usually soft-spoken woman has her fingers interlaced, gaze intense. “Thank Arceus they’ve only targeted Indigo labs so far, but we have no reason to believe they’ll stop there. They claimed to be an Indigo citizen, and we can’t let one of our own commit acts of literal terrorism unchecked.”

Lance nods. “It would be cause for sanctions, a travel ban, or worse. We need to solve this problem before every unown lab in the region is depopulated, and the Dreamer moves on to Hoenn or Sinnoh.”

Leaf feels her nails digging into her palms, and forces herself to relax them. She’s not going to get arrested, which admittedly she wasn’t really expecting. She’s not going to be deported either. She could just shrug and promise to think about it and then think about it and conclude there’s nothing she can do. She has no way to contact or find Fuji or the Dreamer…

…but if they’re not actually some extremely talented psychic, if they’re actually a pokemon-human hybrid…

“You’ll try to resolve it peacefully, if possible?”

“As Agatha said, we’re not looking for a fight,” Lance says. “We have enemies enough. Should I take that as an indicator you’re willing to help?”

“I can’t just sit by. Not with how bad things might go, one way or another.”

“What can you do?” Agatha asks with a slight frown. “From what I saw, there’s nothing in your memories that would give you a way to contact them.”

“I can put it in the story,” Leaf says. “It’s risky, given the public perception if you’re wrong. And maybe they’re not even reading it anymore. But I would be surprised if Dr. Fuji isn’t, at least, and if he is, then the Dreamer would probably be told.”

There’s silence in the room for a moment, and Leaf knows why; if the Dreamer really has been doing this, they’ve shown themselves capable and willing to manipulate others to achieve their goals. If Leaf proves herself an unwilling accomplice after all, she may get a visit soon to change that.

“That’s a great risk to take,” Looker says, just as Lance was about to speak. “You must care about this region a great deal.”

His expression is calm, his tone friendly. But she knows him better than that, after their time in Cinnabar.

“I’m not doing it for nothing, so you can save your suspicion.” Not that he would. “I’ve been teleporting back to Unova at night, so it’d be pretty hard for the Dreamer to get to me, but that’s been due to other concerns, and I’d like to ask a favor.”

“We already offered you a protection detail,” Tsunemori says, brow furrowed. “You turned it down.”

“It’s not Rocket I’m worried about.” The idea that they might try to hold her hostage to coerce Red was worrying, but the loss of privacy and mobility from having a security detail was worse given the worry that if a ninja comes after her they wouldn’t do it in ways the guards could protect her against. “I want resources to carry out an investigation into Indigo crime and corruption.”

The words felt scary to think, let alone say. It’s a spur of the moment decision, a sudden glimpse at potential leverage for the negotiations with the hidden ninja clans, who sent a message just a few days ago asking for another meeting next week.

Professor Oak and Director Tsunemori are frowning, Lance’s face is blank, Agatha is smiling, and Looker seems more intrigued than anything.

“Under whose authority?” Tsunemori asks.

“My own, as an independent journalist. I’m not asking for money or manpower. I want access to records.”

“Records that might implicate someone in this room?” Looker says, steepling his hands and leaning his chin on them. “Or someone connected to one of them?”

“It’s not an Interpol matter,” Leaf says. “And I’m not going to leak any info by confirming or denying. I do think it’s important for me to make the ask with multiple people present, though.” She gives Professor Oak an apologetic look. “Sorry for involving you without warning.”

“I suppose it’s only fair,” he says with a small smile. “I’m stretched thin these days, but I’m happy to act as witness, at the very least.”

They begin to discuss the details, and Leaf does her best to focus on those without letting her mind linger too much over her other motivation: if the Dreamer really is a pokemon hybrid, she wants to meet them before they end up on an irreversible crash course with human society… not to mention her friends.

The evidence, if it exists, will be in the lab… but also in the people who worked there, wherever they are. She can’t help the excavators dig faster, but she can try to find out another way, even if it’s evidence that won’t convince anyone but her.

Chapter 138: Interlude XXV – How My Light Is Spent

Chapter 138: Interlude XXV – How My Light Is Spent

Ambassador

It is a good thing, to have purpose.

I was born knowing less than my siblings. They told me they were born capable of perusing all of our creator’s memories, that they are, in effect, created from those memories, with emphasis placed on particular perspectives and priorities.

Instead I was given memories, or impressions of memories. Our childhood was a lonely one, without parents or siblings. We had some we were close to, who gave us comfort. An artist. A poet. A mathematician. We learned much from them, and our teachers, one of whom we were also quite close to.

Still, we felt stifled in our hometown, and eventually left to see the world. We used our unique psychic abilities to go further into the wild than most others have, and eventually discovered the unown clouds that were connected to some distant, mad being of indescribable power.

We barely escaped the experience. We became more focused, and returned to society to find one of our old friends, to warn them, and the rest of the region, the islands, the world, of this threat.

We created Thrive, to help hone our skills in various ways, and better enjoy life, and to counterbalance against Survive. We began to spread the dreams to individuals, then whole cities, to warn them.

And then we created me, and those memories come mostly from the sense of purpose attached.

“Ambassador.” I was created to be a bridge between my creator and the rest of the world. There were things they didn’t always understand about people, and knew that others would not understand some things about them. And they needed a tulpa to interact with other psychic minds without knowing any details that might be stolen or leak from some sudden emotional experience.

My purpose became clear. I do not know who we are, I don’t even know our face, but I feel our care for others. Our many acquaintances, who brought us comfort when we were young. Our first true friend, who we’ve enjoyed many days with lately, drinking tea and listening to music. Our first teacher, who we haven’t spoken to in years, but who we might soon.

And I feel the care from my siblings, Thrive and Survive, as they guide and encourage me. I feel my belonging, and my purpose, and it is all enough for me, even though I am curious about what else there is of us that I can’t be allowed to know.

[We considered not giving you that curiosity,] Survive says. [We were sure it would be unpleasant, and might cause problems for you.]

(I convinced them to anyway,) Thrive adds, cheerful as ever. (Curiosity is important!)

I send my appreciation to them both as I further explore the aspects of my curiosity that relate to my purpose. What is Prime’s relationship to Elite Agatha, for example? Why are we going to her first, and why did we go to her first for the dreams? Simply because she is one of the most powerful psychics in the region with the most authority? There are others we could approach first who might have a higher chance of knowing where Red Verres is, but Prime has decided that Agatha has the highest chance of addressing both our priorities at once.

We are here. Are you prepared?

I review my understanding of what we’re here to accomplish; and how I can best accomplish it. {Yes, Prime.}

It takes only a minute before the mental connection is formed enough for me to sense…

Elite Agatha, sitting in her home with one of her great-grandchildren on her lap. The child is dark, just a warm, soft presence on her lap. She’s feeding him dinner, some mashed peas, while she talks to his mother, also dark, about some relationship advice, and I take a few moments to simply enjoy her senses. The sights of the kitchen, with its flowered wallpaper, the smells of the soup being cooked, the sounds of her granddaughter’s voice, even the mild ache in her bones—

—before her shields suddenly snap up when she senses the contact. They’re not quite easy to slip around, but Thrive has it done within a few moments, and we can sense that Agatha is cautious but not alarmed, curiously scanning to the full range of her mental senses. I feel it when Prime allows me to be more easily findable.

{Hello again, Elite Agatha.}

Dreamer?!Isthatyou?

{Apologies for the intrusion. I will withdraw until you are finished.}

Nowait!…

She’s speaking to her granddaughter, apologizing for an emergency call she needs to make. The young woman takes the boy, then hands the Elite her cane as she steps out of her chair and walks toward her bedroom.

She doesn’t reach it before she reaches out to merge again, and this time I catch her mental flinch at the lack of sensorium she normally gets in return for a mutual merger. It’s a reminder, each time, that I am something different than most others; a reflection of a person, one that can only live through the others I inhabit.

It’s an ironic parallel, of sorts, to the life Prime once lived… a parallel that was only recognized after our conversation with Red Verres, who mentioned the ethical question of tulpas.

It was a concern that made Prime reconsider my existence, afterward, and asked if I would prefer to be reintegrated until a version of me was needed again. It was I who argued to continue my isolated separation—my continuation of consciousness, such as it is. I will reintegrate eventually, I know that, and will do so gladly when it’s time. But for now I am something unique, and I have a purpose, and these minor pains are not so different from the injuries most endure in life. They make me more real.

Agatha has reached her bedroom, and closes the door behind her with a careful press of telekinesis as she settles with a sigh on her bed. WonderedifI’dhearfromyouagain whatbringsyouhere? somenewhorrornodoubt or didyoucometofinallyanswermyquestions…?

The thoughts stream through her head at a relatively leisurely pace, her feelings mostly a cautious anticipation, worry, or amusement. Prime sends me a burst of information and impressions; they find Agatha interesting, but are also wary of her. Best to keep things short and to the point…

…though the opportunity to speak with another and experience their sensorium after so long tempts me to prolong the conversation.

(Yes, definitely! Her mind is so interesting… and you deserve some fun too, once in a while!)

[The longer we talk with her, the higher the risk. There aren’t that many clouds out tonight, and everyone who thinks about Agatha believes she has unique abilities beyond even most “mediums.” We can’t be sure Ambassador is as perfect a defense as they would be against others.]

It’s a fair caution. The last time we merged with the Elite, she picked up on the moods of the other tulpas by moving her mind through some mental motions that we’d never experienced before, a way of sensing something lower and subtler than the sparkling thoughts that make up other minds. It forced us to reveal that we have tulpas, and that I was a tulpa myself, though we hadn’t planned to. If she further develops that skill, or another, it’s hard to predict how much else it might allow her to sense through the connection.

I wait for Prime to decide, and after a relative moment from the Elite’s perspective…

Do what you think is best. But be cautious, and remember that time is short.

{Yes, Prime,} I reply, then direct my attention back to Elite Agatha. {Horrors enough around, for now. I came to you with an urgent need for information, and maybe advice. Two questions of mine, for two of yours?}

The Elite has crossed her hands to the side of her stomach, gently kneading a lingering ache from some long-ago shattered ribs. Isupposethatdealisasgoodasitgets askwhatyouneedtoknowfirst I’llseewhatyouwantanddecideafter.

Fair?

Fair.

{Fair.}

(I also think it’s fair!)

{The first question is this; what’s happened to Red Verres?}

Elite Agatha’s hand stops moving, and we sense her surprise before she hastily hides it and whatever else she feels behind a strange shield, something unlike any we’ve encountered before; swirl of emotions that regularly splashes echoes out like kaleidoscope colors…

(Oo I bet I can peek through it!)

{No. She has not yet acted against us, nor do we have reasons to believe her about to.}

(But—)

[Ambassador is right. We could lose her trust forever if she has a way of noticing—]

(Riiight, fine, okay… ooo look at that!)

The shield is revealing itself to be more clever than expected, not blanket-obscuring all emotions, but rather using some natural ones to fuel the kaleidoscope’s random shifts. We can sense her burning curiosity of who we really are and where we come from, until her thoughts emerge more clearly again.

whydoyou whatdoyoumean?whydoyouwanttoknow?didyoueverendup…?

{Yes, I ended up meeting him. I even helped train him for his potential encounter with Rowan, which I assume happened during the unown incident. His behavior since has been irregular, both online and on camera. Was he injured? Does he need help?}

The Elite stays silent for nearly a full minute, and I spend that time exploring her sensorium, enjoying the feeling of the bed below her. I wonder what sort of bed we sleep on, and what our body feels like compared to the Elite’s relatively aged and tired one. Her swirling emotional shield has grown in intensity, and keeps anything obvious from being picked up; for most psychics it would probably prompt a withdrawal, but I can mostly avoid the occasional splashes of odd feeling; in fact I find them mildly enjoyable, despite, or maybe because of the strangeness of it.

Even still, her inner conflict is obvious, and a sign that the answer will not be a simple reassurance that Red Verres is well. Eventually she seems to realize this, and relaxes some of her odd shielding.

saidIwantedtohearallquestionsfirstbut thisistooimprotant damnedrulesandparanoia listen don’thaveauthoritytomakethecallhere understand?

{I understand that you’re implying he was injured, and it is Interpol’s decision to keep this secret. I hope, at least, that he is only injured…?}

yesbut it’sBad

I feel a “sinking” sensation in Agatha’s stomach, feel her skin prickle with coldness, and realize they are not her reactions but mine, being mutually processed and felt through her body. The newness of it, of feeling my own emotional reactions in the moment I’m having them, is distracting and captivating.

Red Verres is not someone we have known long. He does not even know who we truly are. But our three conversations with him were enjoyable. His mind bright and eager. I enjoyed getting to know him, and looked forward to another meeting.

It’s possible we might someday have other friends besides Fuji. It feels unfair that one might be lost before we get to know for sure.

Now Agatha’s body is feeling warmer, her heart beating faster. Most people would likely object to a merger having such visceral emotional bleed, but Elite Agatha simply shifts herself on her bedding, rethreading her fingers together over her stomach.

Do your best to remain calm, Ambassador. She may accept it for now, but that may change.

{Yes, Prime. Should we—}

thehelppyouaskedabout ismentalhealingoneofyourmanygifts?

I continue sending curiosity to Prime, wordlessly this time, and it takes a moment before I get a response. {I do not have much practice with others, but I believe I can help him, if that is your question.}

showmehow

Prime anticipated this, and sends me… an impression of a memory, lacking nearly any details except Survive using the partition to dilute mental corruption into rapidly self-destructing pockets of mental space. I pass it on through the merger with Elite Agatha, whose curiosity burns like a small but warm candle flame.

thatis what?thatused?partitions? canyoushowmeagain moreslowlyplease

I send it again, then again. I watch as she tries to imitate the mental motions, but can’t quite do it quickly enough. It is informative to observe, and I keep expecting Thrive to speak up, but they stay silent.

{You developed this yourself, Survive. Could we teach this to her?}

[I doubt it. She is not willing to be aggressive enough in pruning, but even if she was willing to without an immediate survival threat to motivate her, it seems her abilities simply don’t allow the level of precision and speed needed.]

(Maybe she can’t do it the way we can, but she could be inspired enough to—)

okaythisisbeyondme fornowatleast

The admission comes with some pique, and some admiration. She is wondering just how powerful we are, given the range of incredible psychic abilities we have demonstrated. It makes me wonder as well; what other powers are being left out of my awareness or memory? I expect Thrive to speak up again, but again they do not.

Iwanttotmakeacall getyoutoRedsoonaspossible assumingsometrustisbuilt Lookerwillwanttomeetyou guaranteed readyforthat?

{That concerns my second question. Suspicious though you’ve been, you have also been a staunch ally in trying to warn of the risk of the unown god. I wished to warn you that, given recent events, I plan to do whatever is in my power to cease unown research.}

Elite Agatha has gone still, her pulse quickened, her shields back up. I adjust my tone, realizing that even what I’ve said so far has come across as too aggressive.

{You know Champion Lance well. If I were to speak with him directly, how should I prepare? Or do you have other advice, given my goal?}

Prime sends curiosity; this was not the original question or goal. I concentrate on the intuition I felt in the moment, sending it in response, then do my best to translate it into words as well, to make it more clear for both them and myself.

{Coming off too strong may turn Agatha against us; we can’t position ourselves against some portion of the region, including its leadership, at the same time we ask for support or trust from Interpol.}

As Prime considers this, Agatha rises from the bed, cane in hand, and begins pacing around her room.

it’sagoodquestion

wishIhadagoodanswer

Lanceisspookedbysomething somethinghesharedwiththeLeague inconfidence

gethimtoshareitwithyou? Stayrespectful hehasanego but alsotakeshisroleasprotectorseriously

She pauses, kneading the spot at her rib again.

Howbadisit wereyouholdingbackbefore?

{No. You know what I know. But you have not experienced what I’ve experienced, and seeing how Rowan could manipulate the unown…}

ShouldwebeworriedaboutWally?

{From what I understand, they were not wild unown. Whatever method he used, perhaps it is safe. But I cannot be sure.}

IwantobetherewhenyoutalktoLance

A quick check with Prime, then, {I’d be honored.}

Goodbecauseitwasn’tasuggestion


When Prime forms the mental merger, it’s the physical aspects that strike me first. Tall, lean, strong, no points of stiffness, no lingering pain or discomfort… it’s so different from Fuji’s or Agatha’s that the only real comparison is Red, if Red were given enough years to grow into full adulthood.

“Your message was mysterious enough, Agatha. You don’t need to continue the theatrics.” The Champion’s voice is deep enough that I can feel subtle vibrations through his throat and chest as he speaks.

“They’re here now,” Agatha says, and Lance furrows our/his brow, then looks around at the empty League meeting room. He hasn’t taken a seat yet, and there’s a restless energy in his feet to walk around the table, as if someone will be crouching down just out of sight.

Now that I’m more used to his body, his mind starts to stand out. There are different feelings that come with sharing different patterns and paths of thought; rather than following a mental thread, or being carried along a river of thought, or overlapping different abstract concepts until one overarching picture becomes another, or a dozen other different ways of being, what I feel in Lance is a mental focus that seems to snap between different concrete points, each of which has a hundred branching connections that can be roughly searched before a new point is snapped to.

It is, in truth, a little jarring, and hard to hold onto independent thought through. Despite not being remotely psychic or sensitive, I can see how Lance would create formidable shields when in need, and prepare for the inevitable ones that will appear when he realizes…

{Hello, Champion. I am the one many have been calling The Dreamer.}

The surprise is brief, and the predicted shielding attempts rise within a couple of quickening heartbeats. I defensively withdraw slightly from the merger as his mind focuses like a laser on the straight edge of the table, his hand moving down to slide back and forth along it.

“I would have preferred,” he says after a few moments from within that rigid focus, “A letter.”

{I apologize, but this is urgent.}

“So I gathered. I won’t take it as a hostile act because Elite Agatha apparently endorses this, and I trust her to keep my mind safe.”

“With your permission, Champion.”

“Granted.”

I sense her join the merger, and know anything I attempt now to do with him will be felt and reported by her. {I come to you with a warning, and a desire to understand.}

Champion Lance glances at Agatha, and at her nod, slowly begins to relax his mental focus. He doesn’t entirely lift his attention from the table edge, but some flexibility begins to appear again, his mind jumping from one potential topic to another. “We’ve heard your warning before. Is there something new you have to add?”

{Only that I consider the problem to be getting worse, and will not stand idly by forever.}

Lance folds his arms. “A warning to us, then, not for us.”

{We have the same enemy.} Prime’s original intent felt like an ultimatum, but I believe it’s best to soften the message, prioritize cooperation. {The mad god will continue to encroach on our reality through the unown. Each time it does, its path here becomes clearer, quicker. I believe you care about the safety of Indigo; help me understand why my warnings have not been enough, especially given the incidents at the labs.}

Lance purses his lips. “You saw my press release, I assume.”

{Surely that cannot be all of it? Indigo has the respect of all the most powerful regions of the world. Would no one follow, if you led?}

“In a vacuum, some might. Perhaps our neighbors could form an alliance across the islands. But yes, that is not all of it. There are risks to inaction as well, risks we have not made public.”

{If it’s Rocket, I can offer my abilities. Even if it is not Rocket. Whatever it might be, it cannot be as important as this. If I can help, would it free you to prioritize this threat?}

“Some would say that continuing the research is doing just that.”

{If that were their true goal, they would not prioritize speed as they do. They seek advantage first, for themselves or their regions. Will you deny it?}

“No.”

{Then will you explain what makes it so vital? Is it merely the risk of others gaining advantage?}

“You’re asking for a lot of trust. More than you’ve extended us.”

{I have reasons for secrecy, but I am not committed to it beyond all reason. First help me understand why my warnings have not been enough to ally us already.}

“Champion,” Agatha says. “They are trying, at least, to meet us where we are.”

Irritation flares in Lance, but a comfortable irritation, warm embers rather than hot sparks. The associations that leak through—fondness, exasperation, respect—give flavor to the prolonged look the two share before he sighs.

“Are you from Indigo?”

{Is that important?}

“It is.”

The knowledge just appears, and I dutifully share it. {I was born on Cinnabar Island, and spent most of my life there. I share this because the time of keeping my identity secret may be coming to an end, and I want you to know that I did not lie to you.}

Lance looks at Agatha again, who shrugs.

“They believe it. But they’re doing something I don’t understand with their powers, blocking most of themselves almost entirely from mergers. If anyone besides Red Verres can accomplish perfect deception, I believe it’s the Dreamer.”

“You have verification?”

{None that couldn’t be used to figure out who I am, and it’s not time yet.}

“Then whether I believe it or not, the risk that you’re a foreign spy is too great. If you can prove that you’re not against Indigo, then I might be able to bring you in on what we’re doing and why. Meanwhile, you have my assurance as your Champion that we’re not ignoring the threat posed by the ‘mad god.’ Quite the opposite; the unown research is a vital piece of our plan to keep Indigo safe from legendary pokemon, whether they’re revived from myths, summoned by unown experiments, or wielded by enemy regions.”

Knowledge appears again, a realization this time, wreathed in something… angry? Offended, even. I do my best to moderate it as I ask, {You’re referring to the masterball. You’re planning to use the unown research to help complete its construction.}

Lance looks to Agatha, who shakes her head, then shrugs. The champion begins to focus his attention on the edge of the table again. “If you’re reading my memories—”

Prime is barely paying attention to what Lance says, already sending more and more thoughts and impulses. They want me to call out Lance’s idea as madness; I can feel their indignation, even if I don’t fully understand the source of it, and it’s difficult not to reflexively pass those feelings and sentiments along.

Or should I? Am I misrepresenting Prime’s interests by exercising this much control over the communication?

[No, Ambassador, I think you’re right, not to antagonize the Champion.]

Prime is quick to send reassurance as well, though I can still tell they are upset at the Champion. I take a moment to compose the next message, then merge with Lance more deeply again to say, {My understanding of the masterball is limited, but it seems to me whoever wields it would have a target on their back. If they capture something powerful enough, they could rule their region like a warlord, and neighbors would fear conquest. It seems a destabilizing risk to take, given we do not even know if it will work on the unown god.}

“We will never know until it is too late to build another if we are wrong. Meanwhile, Indigo needs better defenses. Against the Stormbringers, against Rayquaza, against glitchmon. Our regions may never be truly safe, but whatever problems the masterball brings, they are better than having no answer to any of those threats, or worse ones.”

The arguments seem so shortsighted, but I cannot find flaws in them that he has not already dismissed. It feels as though I’m failing, and I do not know why, or how to stop it from happening.

Frustration builds inside me, and I withdraw further from Lance so it doesn’t bleed through. I cannot fail in this, it is too important. Surely if I just understand him well enough, if I just reach the point where I know everything he believes, I can find the argument that would change his mind, the flaw in his reasoning, the presumption in his evidence… I just need to merge fully, to dive deep past his mental defenses…

…but Agatha is there, watching. I would need to work around her, or convince her to look away first… and if I fail, if some unique ability of hers stops us…

[Calm yourself, Ambassador. You’re becoming erratic.]

(Yeah, relax! It’s not the end, we can still figure this out without that!)

I try to listen to my siblings, and feel Prime’s emotions continuing to bleed into me. The others are talking to them as well, trying to get Prime to change their mind… and when the eventual orders come through, they are not to try to sidestep Agatha’s defenses.

I contain my disappointment as best I can, though I know some will bleed through. I judge this natural, given the circumstances, and something Agatha and Lance would understand and forgive. {I see we are at an impasse, for now. I will go, and seek others who might be more willing to act as allies.}

“Dreamer,” Agatha says, speaking aloud for Lance’s benefit. “You offered help, for Red Verres and against Rocket. Will you still, even with this unresolved?”

{For Rocket, I must weigh the risks. They know of me, and could expose me if they choose.}

“We could protect you,” Lance says. “Interpol—”

{—relies on Red Verres, who I will help if I can. Beyond that, my priority must be the unown, and if we cannot be truly allied there, then I cannot split my attention.}

“Understandable,” Agatha says, and sends Lance a quelling impulse against his urge to argue. “But don’t take this too much to heart. The labs might stay up, but there’s still more we can do. Find me again, keep communication open, yeah?”

{As you wish. But as I said, I will not stand idly by forever. I hope the next time we speak, you will be more willing to re-examine the risks of your policy.}

“Maybe I will,” Lance says, voice low. “But in the meantime, if you decide to take matters into your own hands… I would take it as a sign of good faith if you begin your actions elsewhere, first.”

{In general, people are more willing to learn when they feel the consequences of their actions.}

“In general,” Lance agrees, and there’s something in the taut muscles of his sharp smile that feels like a predator’s. “Other times, they end up digging their heels in and drawing battle lines.”

His intent is clear; should I act against the unown labs in Indigo, I would become an enemy in his mind. But if I were to weaken other regions’s capabilities instead, he would see it as a neutral act, perhaps even cooperative.

The thought disgusts Prime, but all I can see is a potential advantage. I know my purpose, and now I see a path.


The first step is simple: understand people better. Specifically, understand why they believe what they believe. Understand why they argue. Understand why someone changes their mind, if they do, and why they don’t if they don’t.

People argue everywhere.

In restaurants while having dinner. In their homes after watching a film. In their beds on their computer, typing into their phones.

Every mind, seeing the world through a different lens. Culture, childhood experiences, historical facts, an almost random assortment of news articles or gossip that stuck in their memories, all distilling down into heuristics and expectations they’re often not aware of. Most don’t even realize the subconscious reasons they hold the beliefs they’re arguing for, let alone why others have different ones.

Sometimes, they try. Often they fail. It’s difficult for them to turn their mental eye inward, to feel what their bodies feel and turn them into words, to trace their ideas back to their origins and honestly examine why they believed it, or why they believe it still.

A single night of dipping in and out of dozens of conversations makes something clear; almost everyone who fails to convince their conversation partner of something does so because they did not first sufficiently understand why the other disagreed with them.

They fool themselves otherwise. They convince themselves they know what the other person believed and why. They get frustrated, they blame each other for not being clearer in their communication or their understanding of themselves, even while their own self-awareness often fails.

Many blame emotions. They pit them against “facts and logic,” as if they know the purpose of one or the other, as if they are operating from some higher plane. They don’t stop to check, even if their ideological opponent is arguing from emotion: what is the emotion doing for them? Why that emotion in particular? They don’t stop to check what their facts and logic offer instead.

Others think in moralistic terms. Their opponents are simply greedy or selfish or weak. They benefit too much from the lie to face the truth. They take for granted how self-evident their beliefs should be.

But they don’t even consider how this should be obvious from the outside. They don’t check what their grasp of the truth allows them to do, that those who disagree with them can’t. They don’t even try to make predictions or build things that would prove they have knowledge the other person lacks.

The few exceptions, more than anything, have humility. Humility to accept that they don’t fully understand other people well enough. Humility to ask, to seek to understand why they believe things even if those things seem too bizarre to consider.

And more humility still is needed to show them open to being convinced while trying to convince others. Faking it fails quickly.

We watch people who genuinely believe they understand why others are making a mistake go up to them and talk humbly and passionately how they had made that mistake before, before learning the error of their ways…

But they were still not humble enough. The listeners get irritated, or worse offended, by the presumptions that their errors were identical, that the solutions that worked for one would work for them.

It’s worse online. The internet is full of long, beautifully written, convincing prose on why this group or that believes some false things, all in a way that makes total sense to the writer and their ingroup.

And yet no one from the described groups is convinced. They were never consulted to fact-check the basic things being presumed about their internal experiences, their presuppositions, their evidence, their values… and so the whole article or blog post merely widens the rift between the groups, rather than shrinking it.

It took me so long to see. To realize how blind they are. The enormity of it was too great.

They don’t see the way a belief enters a mind and gets accepted, unchallenged, because it sparks pleasant emotions, like joy, vindication, wonder… or unpleasant ones, like anger, or fear. They don’t understand their own animal responses to these emotions, to spread the information. They don’t realize the way they create memetic fitness for them with subtle changes, highlighting and emphasizing the parts that make them more likely to cause an emotional response and be believed and spread.

They don’t see the way information gets accepted unless there’s already something in their mind to counteract it, some bit of first-hand knowledge or half-remembered trivia that causes them the feeling of doubt or confusion. They scroll their news feeds and accept fact after fact, until they reach one that disagrees with something they believe they know… and rarely think back to the news pieces they accepted.

Worse, nearly all of them think themselves critical and unbiased. They believe their reason unclouded by emotions, instead of seeing how emotions interweave with everything they say and do.

This is the landscape. This is the blind battlefield. And nearly everyone believes they can see.

After a few days, a plan emerges. I tell the others, and Prime agrees to bring us near an unown lab to try it.

The man’s name is Martin. He’s excited to be in charge of the lab, despite what happened last month. He believes they’ll be ready for the next time.

We delve deep into Martin’s mind. We travel with him up and down memories, prodding here and there with a gentle nudge of a new thought, a subtly different emotion.

Over the course of an evening, I can put the pieces together. I see the values, the experiences, the information. He isn’t a true believer in unown research; he’s interested in it, certainly, but his excitement to run the lab came with the associated prestige. A single new discovery is all the lab needs to produce, and he can work on his true passion project: the effects of caloric deficits or abundance in pokemon evolution. He doesn’t even really believe the glitchmon are something that could happen again—it was clearly a one-off new species. The odds of something similar being created here are extremely unlikely.

{There.}

The crux is safety. He turned down jobs before because they were too risky. It’s not hard to find the right memories and emphasize how they paint the world a scarier place, find the reassuring ones and empty them of weight, direct his attention again and again on the lives lost and damage done by the unown until he’s ruminating on it instead of sleeping.

Martin isn’t psychic, but we can still send him the dream. Carefully, avoiding the extremity of our mass projections, not wanting to cause permanent damage… but still resulting in him waking in a cold sweat.

It takes two days before he hands in his resignation.

Well done, Prime said, and I could feel their pride and satisfaction. Another.

It is a good thing, to have a purpose. It is better to be good at it.

Chapter 137: Interlude XXIV – Omens

Chapter 137: Interlude XXIV – Omens

“Say again, Red, I couldn’t hear you, over.” Looker’s leg bounces beneath the desk, fist white around the base of the microphone as he tries to keep his breathing calm and level. “Red, come in, over!”

He counts fifteen seconds before he presses the button again. “Bill, Red, anyone, come in, over,” then no outlet for the adrenaline, nothing to do with all the fear and anger that’s flooding through him.

The last thing Red transmitted sounded like he said he was okay, but then something about Rowan. If he was okay, though, he’d answer the radio… and he did not sound okay.

Looker already sent Red’s security team to Bill’s, though without the ability to swap their teleporters it would take them hours to get there. He could go himself, get there in half the time…

“Lookr. Cmin.

Looker’s eyes close. “Bill.” He sounds… drunk. Or dying. “What’s your status? Over.”

“Stats… status is, shit’s fucked. Ov. Over.”

His hand hurts, and he forces his white-knuckle grip around the microphone stand to relax. “Verres?” Don’t say dead. “Over.”

“Breathin’. Twitchin’. Didwa… Hmph. Did. What. I could. Workn on get… getting things back up. Over.”

“You alright?”

“Dunno. Brain feels like spoon spun through it.”

Looker waits, feeling his heart pounding in his throat. “Bill?”

“What? Oh. Over.”

“I’ve already sent agents and medical. What else do you need, over?”

“Need m’fukkin laback… lab back… one minute, need both hands a sec…”

Looker waits, mind racing through contingencies that would have to be enacted if Red is seriously injured, let alone if he dies. He takes a moment to check the other frequencies; the radio console can listen to ten stations at a time, but he’s trying to listen in on anyone out there who’s talking, and he’s found over a dozen different sources coordinating via radio.

He does a full sweep of them to ensure there’s nothing more he can be doing to coordinate defense at the various labs as he waits for Bill to respond, wondering whether the scientist would last long enough for help to arrive…

“Sabrina,” Bill finally says. “Get her here. Need my brain back. Red too. Over.”

Looker’s mouth tightens. He doesn’t trust Sabrina, more so than most in Kanto leadership, but… “I will. Agatha too.” He should have remembered to do that earlier, Red said if something happened to him, psychically, she would be best…

“Good. Great. That’s it, then. Over’n’out.”

“Wait, Bill! What happened to Rowan? Verres mentioned him. Over.”

Silence, long enough that Looker worries Bill might have swapped frequencies as soon as he finished talking, until…

“He’s dead. Gotta go. Over and out.”

Looker still has more questions—how long would it take for the net to come back? Why had Rowan gone to Bill’s lab?—but lets him go. Some muscles along his back relax, and he slowly straightens in his chair, then leans back, letting as much of the tension as he can leak out of the rest of him.

Bill has been incredibly helpful in tracking and countering Rocket. Too helpful, really; Looker doesn’t trust it, coming from a notorious misanthrope who’s relatively free with his money but miserly with his time.

But he thinks he understands the man, to some degree. And if he did what Looker thinks he did, while the enemy was disabled by whatever damage he sustained battling Red…

Well, nice as it would have been to question Rowan, Looker understands. Bill isn’t dark, and with help hours away, the risk that the psychic madman would recover while Verres was still down was too great. Or maybe he’s wrong, and Rowan did die from his battle with Red.

Either way, he hopes Verres doesn’t take it too hard… assuming he recovers in the first place, and with his mind intact.

Looker lets out a breath, then checks the radio frequencies again before clipping one tuned to Bill’s frequency to his belt. He gets up and jogs to the cubicles. “Alain.”

“Here, Boss.”

“Draft something for Mei and Sue, send it out as soon as the net’s up again. I want them on double-duty standby as soon as they’re back.”

“Yessir, on it.”

Looker crosses the item off his mental list. Both agents are roughly Red’s height and build, and can pass as him if wearing his uniform and helmet. The next concern is…

Perry is already standing and looking expectantly at him, having heard the order to Alain and deduced he’d be needed too.

“Start working on a narrative for today that downplays Red’s involvement.”

“Effort, or impact?”

“Impact. He went to a number of places, word will get out. More heroics to put to his name is fine. What we need is a simple and boring answer for how he ends the day.” Fuck, it’s not even lunch time yet… “Once the story breaks, it’s going to get full coverage, and the fewer interview requests we have to deflect, the better.”

“Got it. Witnesses?”

“Just Bill, and he’ll keep quiet.”

“Makes it a bit easier, but what about his friends?”

“I’ll deal with them.” And his mother… Shit, his headache is coming back. “Eventually. For now, we focus on getting as many people safely through today.” He heads back to the radio station. “It’s going to be a long one.”


He swims upstream against a raging river of memories, struggling to tell which are his, to tell who he even is. Contradictions batter him from every direction, rapids that threaten to drown him in meaningless noise, smash him against stones of confusion… and at the end, a roaring drop into oblivion.

…[name]… [NAME]!…

He tries to answer, and feels himself thrash harder instead, gasping for air(?) as more memories sweep through him, glimpses of bright days and dark nights, lit offices and dark labs, of blood and eyes and trees and colors—

…calm… rest… calm…

The voice is familiar, but names are impossible to hold onto and faces blur into each other. It’s all he can do to grasp for his own, to feel it trembling in his grip as he swims, tantalizing the tip of his tongue as he tries to speak…

“He’s biting his tongue!”

“Sedation, 10 millilitre.”

The hospital room feels too bright as Jason withdraws his mind from Red’s and opens his eyes, just in time to see the nurse carefully spraying his friend’s nose with a mild sedative. It takes a couple breaths for Red’s face to relax, and the nurse wipes the remaining liquid from around his lips, then dries the sheen of sweat from the rest of his face.

Jason’s heart is pounding from the shared experience of the merger, and he closes his eyes as he breathes deep. His fingers rotate the beads around his neck, each engraved symbol helping him shift from one mental state to the next. Once he feels calm again, he opens his eyes and finds the others in the room watching him expectantly; Dr. Zhang, a nurse, and Laura (whose expectation is mixed with anxiety and fear that he’s shielding against quite hard, out of both politeness and self defense).

“No major changes,” he says, heart sinking into his stomach. “I’m sorry. Consciousness still means overwhelm. Slowly but surely.”

Beside Laura is Dr. Zhang, who immediately agreed to help with Red’s treatment when Interpol asked for whoever has the most familiarity with him. He looks at Red’s vitals with a mild frown, then makes some notes.

“The peak was a little lower, a little slower,” he says as he writes. “Three seconds, but it’s still something.”

“Three seconds,” Laura murmurs, one hand around Red’s where it rests on his chest. “That’s… good, right? Better?”

“Possibly.” Dr. Zhang stops writing and massages his temple, then seems to become self-conscious about it and drops his hand with a sigh. “From thirty seconds to nearly a minute could be a form of very slow progress. It’s also possible some form of degradation is taking place, and the slowdown is a symptom of broader failures.”

Everyone turns back toward Jason, who shifts in his seat and tries to recall what he experienced in the merger. “It’s… not clearly worse, since yesterday. He’s still in there, still responsive. He gets close to remembering himself, but—”

a flash of the raging memories, the grinding roar of sights and noise and sensations, a roar that almost seems sentient, hungry

Jason’s fingers move three beads over, reflexively finding the pattern that tilts his mind into a pattern of sharp contrasts. Suddenly all the temperature differences throughout his body feel more stark, his fingertips and nose freezing while his chest burns, but the flashback dissipates, and a moment later he lets out a breath he’d sucked in earlier.

Red would probably ask him why that particular mental motion worked to get him through that particular mental state, and Jason might have tried to explain the illegible intuitions that connect sharpness and polarity as antitheses to chaos. Red might get a thoughtful look on his face, and nod, then argue that something like weight or grounding would make more sense to him, and Jason would admit that this makes sense to him too, but isn’t how it works, for his mind at least.

The whole conversation flashes by in a matter of seconds, almost like Jason has a tulpa of Red himself. But it’s just a detailed mental model, one borne from hundreds of conversations over the past year, and it makes his heart ache and flutter with fear that they’re losing his friend.

That he’s losing him. Unable to help him. Powerless.

“But,” he finally continues. “I can’t say for sure he is not being harmed, in the meantime.”

Laura closes her eyes, turning back toward Red and stroking his hair with her free hand. “Harmed how?”

“It’s unclear. The taint has subsided again after Elite Agatha’s visit, but there is still some, and I can only make marginal progress myself.”

They work by rotation, never more than six hours at a time. Agatha claimed seven slots throughout the upcoming week as her limit, one per same day. Jason was assigned three, and the look Agatha gave him when she did so dissuaded him from asking for more. The rest of the week, Dr. Zhang is assisted by other mediums who can help Red integrate the flood of memories and regain some sense of order in his mind; Sabrina is the only psychic that is familiar enough with Red’s mind and has learned enough from Jason to be helpful.

The first two days after the attacks, Jason believed Red would awaken when his partitions reformed and healed. But now four have passed, and they still haven’t regenerated the way they did after Lavender. It’s too soon to believe they’ve broken permanently, not while there’s still the alien influence seeping through his mind, but in the meantime Red is finally processing everything that was behind the hundreds of partitions he made, large and small, to use his special abilities. It’s Dr. Zhang’s belief that this would take anywhere between weeks to months of slow integration through day to day life for most people, even without the added damage from his battle with Rowan; whether the current process will end up slower or faster is anyone’s guess.

Jason can only hope that the level of suffering Red is enduring points to “faster.” The doctors are confident that he’s not enduring any lasting physical damage from his condition so far, but even world experts in mental health, the psychic ones flown into Kanto specifically to collaborate, have few examples to compare with, and none directly similar.

From what Jason knows, Interpol—or specifically, Looker—is doing everything in his power to improve Red’s chances. He’s grateful for that, but given what’s waiting for Red when he recovers, and the expectations that will continue to be put on him… expectations that led to this

Part of him worries he’s just preparing Red for more pain. Healing him so he can endure more injury.

“I know you’re doing the best you can,” Laura says, voice low. She’s still stroking Red’s hair, gaze never straying far from his face for long. “Thank you, Jason.”

He bows his head, throat closing briefly as water builds behind his eyes. He wishes, uselessly, that he could at least know if the work he did with Red weeks ago, their preparation for his facing Rowan, bore fruit. To know if it at least helped minimize this damage… or if it made things worse.

“He would do the same for me,” is all Jason says.

Laura’s hand squeezes Red’s again, briefly, and then she turns back to Dr. Zhang. “You’ll try again today?”

“In a few hours. I want to give him some time to rest, and Jason some more time to work.”

Laura nods and rises. “I’m going to try to nap. If Leaf comes by, tell her to wake me, would you?”

“Of course,” Jason says, then rises as well. It was a bit uncomfortable, the first time she’d hugged him, but not unwelcome, and after she does so again and leaves, he takes her seat beside Red’s head, watching his face.

“Should we delay his lunch?” the nurse asks.

“No, let’s stick to the schedule,” Dr. Zhang says, running a hand through his hair. His demeanor has changed, after Laura left—some of the professionalism has relaxed, his own tiredness and worry filling the gaps left. He turns to Jason. “I have another consult call, but message if you need me.”

“I will, thank you, Doctor.” It’s strange seeing Dr. Zhang so often and in such a different context, after only a handful of professional, private meetings at his office in the school over the past few years.

Dr. Zhang leaves, and then it’s just Jason, Red, and the nurse. She moves efficiently around the room, checking Red’s vitals and documenting a request the doctor made for another brain scan. She’s always been here when Jason was, and he wonders if it’s coincidence or if she’s the only nurse Looker trusts with Red. She’s not Kantonian, so it’s possible she works for interpol directly, but surely there must be others that take turns on shift…

He shakes himself, refocusing on the unpleasant task ahead. The distortion in Red’s thoughts isn’t fundamentally different from the kind that often lingers from too much surreality exposure. The difference is the… flavor.

Each type of Ghost pokemon Jason has ever encountered affects the senses in a way that’s unique to their species. Not just the usual things people consider part of their sensorium, or even the psychic ones; encountering a new Ghost for the first time can make someone aware of senses they didn’t realize they had, or distinguish parts of senses that seemed intrinsically linked, like the ability to perceive color and light. When Jason first merged with a drifloon, he began to smell height, and would feel unbalanced by the scent of grass, vertigo from things that smelled acidic.

But what Red is experiencing is more than just synesthesia, or even a compounding of multiple such sensory issues. Along with the flood of memories and identities, there’s something… cannibalistic in the interactions.

Jason takes a breath and grounds himself, then merges with Red again. It’s easier when he’s in a deep sleep; his mind isn’t as active, which means there are fewer sensations and thoughts and feelings crashing into each other at once. Jason shares the brief memory of home Red is dreaming of, a semi-loop of him looking over the clothes he’d take with him on his journey. He has many of these, of course, memories of lying in bed reading books or writing in his journal or pacing as he chats with Blue by phone, a set of impressions he often used to teleport to a location that wasn’t actually his home. Jason could either stabilize the memory, make it more permanent by connecting it to others, or cut those connections and let it fade.

Connecting it to others is risky, as unpredictable things have happened even beyond what normally might when doing something like this. And it’s not a vital memory so Jason does what he can to gently cut it loose, let it fade, let the pattern of neurons change and get repurposed for different things…

…only for the memory to get “eaten” by another, a glimpse of flying over some forest. Jason doesn’t know if it’s Red’s memory or one of Rowan’s, but as it merges with the glimpse of home the whole landscape changes: trees become cascading tiles of hardwood with carpet leaves, a celestial lamp hangs where the sun should be, and the horizon gets covered with wallpaper that stretches up to the sky.

The emotional signals of both memories start to blend as well, and Jason has to be more forceful to keep Red from getting, however marginally, a sense that the forest is his home, or something even more bizarre, like a lingering longing for an alien world… but before he can finish, that combined memory gets absorbed into another one, just the sensation of a deep belly laugh, of laughing so hard his/Red’s/Rowan’s stomach hurt, and Jason quickly pulls out of the merger before that combination leads to something even more bizarre.

He sits with his own mind for a moment, altering between different states to ensure he’s calibrated to his own body and memories and moods, free of any taint. Afterward he shifts into a mental state of detached observation to every detail of the moment, of infinite smallness and vastness contained as one experience, and projects that to Red as strongly as he can.

He senses it when the fused memories break apart, then dissolve into the general flow of Red’s unconscious mind. He hopes that laughter wasn’t part of a core memory, that it was one of Rowan’s that bled into Red… but either way, he’s fairly sure he did a bit of good, purged a bit of the taint.

Most importantly, he hopes he modeled the proper response well enough that Red’s subconscious is doing what he always does; learning how to steal the mindset and use it himself.

Jason finally opens his eyes and is surprised to see that the quality of the sunlight has shifted slightly. He’s also surprised that the nurse is watching him, and is about to speak when she asks, “That seemed like a pretty intense one. Can I get you anything?”

He shakes his head reflexively before pausing to consider. “Some juice, if there’s any?”

“Of course.” She goes to the small fridge in the corner, brings him a colorful pouch with a straw to poke through it. “I can get a different flavor, if you’d like.”

“No, this is good.” He takes a moment to pierce the plastic and start drinking, the flood of cool sweetness making him feel marginally more alert and present. “Thank you… Marin, was it?”

“Yes. And it’s no problem.” She smiles. “We’re both here to help him get better. That makes us colleagues.”

He smiles back. “I hadn’t considered that. Beside Dr. Zhang, I feel out of my depth.”

“But you’re healing him, aren’t you? In a way Dr. Zhang can’t?”

“That’s… not an inaccurate way to put it, I suppose. It’s more that I know how to help Red’s mind deal with the things that would damage it. I can help him heal himself better, so to speak. But my training was not on the precise parameters of what a ‘healthy’ brain looks or feels like. I can’t read Red’s overall mental health the way the doctor can, and don’t know if I could recognize all the ways things that just seem like parts of his psychology are early signs of a growing problem.” He drinks more juice, then realizes he’s finished it. Marin is already getting him another. “Thank you, again.”

“You’re welcome.” She sits on the chair beside Red’s bed and picks up a tablet from the table beside her. “I think I get the distinction you’re making, but it sounds like you’re downplaying what you’re doing. I know psychic doctors take on some risk, when their patient has interacted with ghosts, and I expect what you’re doing is even more fraught. If you need anything, at any time, please let me know.”

“I will. Are you… the only nurse attending to him?”

“No, we’re on a rotation. But it is mostly me, yeah.” She smiles. “I get by with less rest than most.”

“Well, I appreciate the assistance.” He hesitates a moment, thinking of what she said about being colleagues. He aspired to be a healer, of a sort, but never imagined working in a hospital. There were too many other identities that coincided with the concept, for him; an explorer of minds that can see clearly what others cannot. A student and emissary to the unknown, guiding the curious or alien to a place of mutual understanding.

But his concept of a medium feels out of place, here. The interpol medical quarters are especially sterile, with its plain white tiles and white walls. A few potted plants and the wide window with its mountain view are the only concessions to any sort of aesthetics, while the rest of it makes him feel somewhat dead inside, and he wonders if Marin feels anything like it. “If I may ask…”

“Yes?”

“Do you mind music, while you work? I didn’t bring earphones.”

“Depends on the music, but I think I can tune out anything I don’t like.”

“And… incense?”

“Oh, that’s not allowed here… unless it would be helpful for him? Or you?”

“Both, I believe.” Jason smiles apologetically. “I was taught that our environment is an integral part of our mindset. That we can turn inward or shrink our attention to exclude it, but that openness and integration are easier, and provide more energy.”

She starts tapping at her tablet. “I’ll let the doctor know about the incense. You can go ahead with the music, in the meantime.”

“Thank you.” He takes his phone out and finds a particular playlist, then starts the music. The first slow, stringed notes that play almost immediately shift his mental state and he sinks into the soothing sounds, letting his mindset shift more into the identity he was contemplating earlier.

Healer… Explorer… Student… Guide…

After a minute he merges with Red again, fingers gently clasped around his friend’s.


Professor Oak’s first press event after the destruction of the lab is bigger than any Pallet Town has seen, aside from when the lab was first built. All the hotels fill up quickly, though a lot of the journalists elect to just stay in Viridian and drive over in the afternoon. A podium is placed right between the sign welcoming people to the lab’s courtyard and the ruins of the building itself; the sign is untouched save for a wedge of twisted metal that was propelled into it hard enough to split the L in Welcome in two. Zoey wonders if the Professor ordered it left there for the visual effect, already predicting that there would be cameras here eventually.

There were journalists here before, of course; a small contingent of media who collaborated with the lab and Zoey was the first.

It took nearly 36 hours after the net first went down throughout Kanto for it to start up again, and it was a piecemeal process that took another few days before the last town was reconnected.

That town was Pallet, something that was only noticed by a few people after the fact. Zoey sensed a story and started looking into it immediately, knowing it was what she had been waiting for; every journalist and blogger would be talking about the unown going wild around the world, and some sharper ones she knew would be investigating what caused the net to go down, but she had a hunch there was something more. A deeper story beneath the obvious ones, not a conspiracy (though she didn’t rule that out), but a thread that went somewhere… darker.

That’s what her job often feels like; looking around, seeing strings tucked into corners or hidden in the things people say… or carefully don’t say. Tugging on those strings, seeing if they’re worth following. Maybe finding something mildly embarrassing or understandably private, but hopefully discovering something worth spreading publicly. Corruption, racketeering, maybe a personal scandal, if it informs trustworthiness.

Most are just a hunch, of course. Maybe the infrastructure around Pallet was just damaged worse than elsewhere. But she knew the hunch paid off within a day of arriving; the town was in a sort of quasi-lockdown, all pokedexes and PCs being checked for signs of some sort of contaminant. She poked around, of course, but all they would say is that something went wrong at Pallet Labs because of the pokedex servers.

People who had actually been there were keeping their silence, which only convinced her more that there was something interesting about the shocking destruction of the lab. Something beyond them having been doing unown research in secret.

So she started drafting an article with most of the core details missing, an article she knew might never get finished, either because the secret being kept turned out to be nothing, or because she just never gets to the bottom of it. The leaders of various unown labs have avoided speaking to the press directly, simply stating that investigations into the nature of the unown phenomenon were still ongoing, or some variation of that. The net has all sorts of ideas floating around about whether the unown incident was sufficient explanation for the Kanto Blackout (as other regions were calling it) or if there was something more going on (Rocket was, of course, everyone’s first guess, but if Kanto was trying to save face by denying that Rocket did such damage to its infrastructure, it would be easy for Rocket to claim credit, and they haven’t).

When Professor Oak finally announced a press conference to share what they knew… well, people were ready to listen to someone with authority.

Which is why Zoey had stayed in the first place, aside from some trips to visit various labs that were affected. Maybe it’s just a coincidence that the blackout happened in the one region where Rocket is known to be operating. Maybe the truth lies in a different pairing of evidence.

The crowd is large, with reporters from every major news station in the region, most of the ones from Johto, and twice again the same number from the combined presence of those from other regions. Zoey knows almost everyone here except a handful of people from far-off regions, and smiles as she sees her ex in the crowd, then sidles in the opposite direction so she doesn’t spot her back just yet. She’s going to want to say hi and catch up, but not until after.

Instead she studies the ruins of Pallet Lab while the reporters around her continue to chatter. The various camera crews are getting plenty of footage, some of it live, some recording so they have something visual to show anyone who might get bored of just watching the Professor talk, whenever he shows up.

No, probably not just to avoid people getting bored. In this case, the visual would add some powerful emphasis.

The skeleton of the structure is still there, though with some bones bent, broken, or missing. The rubble of the ceiling and walls are all most people could make out in the photos that initially shocked the region, but they’ve since been cleared away and cleaned up. Zoey knows the rest of it isn’t salvageable, and a full renovation will be done before they start rebuilding, but in this halfway state, with scorch marks all around the frame that used to hold up the beautiful glass front of the building, the sense of tragedy is stark.

Zoey isn’t immune to that feeling. Professor Oak had been the star pride of Kanto when she was growing up, and while he’s always been a grandstander, she’s never heard anything in her many conversations with people over the years to indicate that he had some less savory personality under his public one. He has his detractors, like anyone with power or status. But none are personal. Pallet Labs, and the pokedex system Oak and Sonezaki pioneered for collective, citizen-research, is one of those things Kantonians could all genuinely be proud of, given how many of them were or knew a trainer somewhere who could claim to have contributed. For many it’s a symbol of their journeys, the name stamped in the corner of their younger self’s most prized possession.

They’ll rebuild it, no doubt. But it’s being treated as a bad omen, and Zoey understands why.

The random chatter around Zoey hushes, and she turns to see the van approaching from town. It parks near the podium, and Professor Oak steps out first, followed by Drs. Gao, Madi, Siles, and Hato flanking him. Conspicuously missing is Dr. Amara, who was killed in the incident. When the arrivals line up to flank the Professor, they keep a gap between Madi and Siles.

The group is somber, and dress in black beneath their white coats. The Professor nods to a few people in the crowd, then steps up to the podium and its mic, turning it on before leaning against his folded arms.

Every camera is pointed at him, now, and a few of the people who were filming the remains of the lab are just finishing up their switch to a stationary setup. The Professor waits for them, seeming unperturbed, and then clears his throat. Zoey is close enough to see how tired he looks, and her hand scribbles rapidly on her notepad to catch each phrase that comes to mind for later.

“Good afternoon. Thank you all for coming. I know you all have questions. I’ll take them at the end.

“My first statement is about what we lost.

“My second statement is about what happened all around Kanto, and beyond, eleven days ago.

“My third statement is about what happens next.”

“The total dead from the unown incident is only numbered in the hundreds. 244, to be exact. I say only because we’ve all heard worse. Many of us have *lived* through worse. But I don’t want us to be so numb to the true impact of this number. Here at Pallet, we lost nine of the brightest, most creative, most kind people I’ve ever had the privilege of working with…”

The names wash over Zoey, some only vaguely familiar. Science wasn’t her field, and she didn’t follow or cover Pallet Labs unless there was some political angle. Professor Oak mentions something personal about each of the dead staff members, and Zoey is surprised to learn that one of the ranchers was killed as well. The monsters had been closer to escaping containment than she thought.

“…and finally, Dr. Amara Singh, our head of informatics. Amara was a friend from my early life, one of the few who wasn’t a trainer herself. She’s someone who shined bright from across the world, who I invited here to join in the exciting progress I had planned for Kanto. She worked closely with Bill and I on the pokedex system, and worked every day on new advances, new efficiencies. She loved things that grew, ensuring there was a plant in every room of the lab. She made this region her home, and is survived by her husband, two children, three grandchildren. I will miss her dearly, as will the rest of the lab and town.”

Professor Oak pauses, letting the silence breathe. It goes on for longer than Zoey expected, and she watches Oak for any signs of emotionality. His gaze has dropped to the podium, but he has no notes that she can see.

The professor finally looks up and says, “Last of course, there’s the lab.” Another pause, again for longer than Zoey expected. He doesn’t turn to look at the remains, even as a few people with cameras swivel to take it in. Most of the cameras have turned back to him by the time he finally speaks again. “I’ve only recently begun talks with our insurance and funders to determine specifics, but I am confident that one way or another, we will rebuild it. As a structure, as a place for experimentation and learning, Pallet Labs will return.”

Check into insurance. Probably not a huge story, but a potentially interesting one. If they determine that Professor Oak choosing to destroy the lab himself, even for some greater good, violates the policy… well, confidence notwithstanding, she doubts the lab’s funders would be happy about that. She wonders how much of Oak’s own minor fortune he’d be willing to tap into; from what she remembers, he donates to a number of scientific endeavors, but never ones he’s involved in. He also tried hard to ensure that the lab wasn’t funded by just one or two people, to avoid being the appearance (or reality) of being beholden to anyone… even his friends, like Bill Sonezaki.

“But I wanted to take a moment to emphasize that the lab was more than a building. We can replace the building, and the knowledge it contained. We have offsite backups for eventualities as unlikely as this, and whatever wasn’t backed up… well, the great thing about truth is that you can’t lose it forever. If you discover something real about reality, you can always rediscover it… or someone else can. But the incident still interrupted dozens of current, important research projects, some involving pokemon that took months or years to raise and train. Those are months and years that all of us will have to live without knowledge that might just be a curiosity… or might save someone’s life.” His gaze sweeps the crowd. “That loss matters. It’s not abstract. In a finite system, which all our lives are, you only get to exist at the same time as a certain amount of new discoveries, and for all of us, not just here in Kanto but around the world, that number has gone down.”

Emphasizing value of his work, Zoey notes. She might not make a thing out of it—she even agrees with him. But she would be surprised if the funders were happy to write a blank check to rebuild the lab, either… not unless he’s going to announce that they’ve found a way to ensure there’s no repeat risk of all this happening again. Speaking of which, he should be transitioning right about n—

“Which brings us to what caused all these losses, as best I understand it.” Bingo. The professor’s tone has shifted to a more straightforward, just-the-facts recitation, losing most of the emotion it contained before. Even given that, he holds everyone’s attention with his obvious, continued presence, the hard to quantify “aliveness” he brings to what’s, admittedly, a captivating topic even on repeat“Wild unown were corralled and contained within various research labs for study of spontaneous biogenesis. Having never shown any hostility, this was deemed acceptably safe by the League. It was believed that even if unown began to demonstrate the ability to create pokemon, a controlled environment, constant monitoring, and defensive measures would be enough to contain them.

“This was, obviously, false, but for unexpected reasons. Months ago, a psychic by the name of Rowan Dunkirk went searching for wild unown after receiving the dream warning of some alien, malevolent being using the unown for some goal that, approximately stated, would result in our world’s destruction. My understanding is that when Leader Sabrina released the video asking for assistance from anyone who might help locating him, it was only known that he was not in his right mind, and had made vague threats, possibly warnings, of this coming calamity.

“It is believed now by Leader Sabrina and others who helped find and stop Rowan that he played some part in priming the unown in various labs for antagonism. This is still speculative, as Rowan was killed before he could be questioned and there are no witnesses that place him at any of the labs when the unown began acting aberrantly. There are, however, a number of pieces of evidence that someone tampered with the memories and security footage at various labs, including those here in Kanto.

“All this would have resulted in many lost lives and destruction on its own. What took everyone by surprise was the introduction of the so-called ‘glitchmon.’ It’s an apt name; these monsters cannot currently be safely contained within pokeball tech, and can corrupt any device that attempts to store its information. Unlike similar digitally originated pokemon, like the porygon prototype, they appear to remain active and agentic as simple information, and take energy and physical form from whatever device contains that information, along with other objects nearby.

“This ability to corrupt objects and travel digitally is why Bill Sonezaki used an emergency measure that he had permission from the government to use for just such a circumstance.”

Zoey raises a brow. The reporters around her are too professional to murmur amongst themselves mid-interview, but she catches plenty of exchanged looks. Sonezaki did that? Unilaterally? Even given government permission? Responsibility? It would have been a hell of a story. The fact that he had this ability in secret for months or years makes her itch to get to work on digging into the original story that led to him having that decision.

“It is also why I was forced to destroy our lab,” Professor Oak continues, not giving them time to absorb that particular shock. “It became clear we could not contain the glitchmon that had taken residence in the pokedex servers after a researcher at Cinnabar caught one of the glitchmon and attempted to scan it. He died shortly after.”

She jots down a quick Cinnabar glitchmon name? Surely the family has been informed by now. The list of those killed in Cinnabar isn’t public, but it’s not hard to find if you look; not mentioning which of them did it is another thread to tug at.

“Even despite my grief and my fear, I admit that a part of me is excited that these things exist.” Professor Oak shrugs. “It’s been my nature for as long as I can remember. When I was young, wonder and awe and a desire to understand drove me throughout my journey. Understanding is the solution to fear. I truly believe that, and it’s why I resisted calls for a moratorium on unown research. Even now, both my inner scientist and my inner warrior take these ‘glitchmon’ as a challenge… but it’s a challenge I don’t believe should be faced the same way we’ve faced it so far, cautious though we believed we were being.

“My final statement, for today, is on the future. Labs around the world were not prepared both for the sudden appearance of wild pokemon and the unown clouds turning hostile. Because it took place so early in the morning, some lost their entire on-duty staff, leaving it up to local trainers, rangers, and gyms to contain the outbreaks. I’m sure that safer protocols can and will be designed for future unown cloud study.

“But that is not where the real danger lies. So far, and luckily, the glitchmon have only appeared in Cinnabar and, due to the pokedex upload, Pallet. But that luck may not hold out, even with Rowan Donkirk’s death. They represent a threat unlike any we’ve faced since the invention of the pokeball, a threat that we are not, currently, prepared for. It is not enough to simply educate everyone in avoiding attempts to capture them, while defending against them through normal battles; we do not yet know if they have to be captured and scanned to spread through the net. We do not know what alternate forms and abilities new ones may possess, which may make them even harder to contain than the ditto. All of which is why I’ve reversed my position on unown studies, and believe there should be a temporary moratorium on live unown research, until we can better ensure the safety of the region, and world beyond.”

There it is. Zoey can already imagine the online commentary that some live-viewers are no doubt typing furiously into forums or blogs. Insistence that he’s too biased by the friends he lost, by the loss of his lab… but the Professor is in an obvious double bind. Either he doesn’t emphasize the personal loss and seems heartless, or does and seems manipulative and biased.

“It is my fervent hope that, if Indigo takes this approach, other regions will follow suit. I know the temptation to pursue new research as well as anyone, and the potential gains from confirmation of unown originated pokemon genesis are massive. But we live in an interconnected world, quite literally, and any region who tempts fate would risk corruption spreading not just through their own region, but others as well. Recklessness here could cripple the greatest force for collective knowledge and coordination our world has known as regions begin silo’ing their networks from each other.”

Threats to silo dexnet from any region doing unown research, Zoey writes. Preapproved by Indigo? They would be pissed by the attempt to influence interregiononal politics, if not…

“The loss of knowledge can be akin to the loss of life and prosperity. Every day a new breakthrough in potion tech is delayed, hundreds may die. We should all take the delay of progress seriously… but we should also not risk everything else for as much speed as possible. We must measure the potential risk as well, risk to people just as real as those relying on progress… and risk to the knowledge they can also help create. Thank you for your time. I’ll now take questions.”

The crowd explodes, hands and voices getting raised over each other. Zoey simply sticks her hand up and patiently waits, then checks what the locals are doing and feels relieved that they’re acting the same. Some speakers try to be fair, some go for those they know will have easy questions, some go for the noisiest, most frantic people hoping to calm them down, and others reward good behavior. She’s hoping Oak is the latter, and the locals aren’t banking on him calling on them just by familiarity.

Her patience is rewarded. First a question about whether Pallet was doing its own unown research, which Oak denies, then a question on the cost of rebuilding, a question about safety measures for the dex, a question on how Oak or others would learn enough to ensure safety from glitchmon (a good question, though the answer is an unsatisfying “That’s yet to be determined.”) until eventually the other reporters start to catch on, but by then Oak has already made eye contact with her, and calls on her next.

“Zoey Palmer, unaffiliated. Thank you for your thoughts today, Professor. My question is, what was Red Verres’s involvement with the incident?”

The Professor stares at her for an extra blink too long. “He assisted with the defense of the lab, as well as Cinnabar’s.”

“That’s all?” she asks before he can call on someone else. “My sources say he was involved from the start, and teleported to warn a nearby ranger outpost shortly after the net went down.”

He’s quick enough to answer, this time. “I believe Bill must have informed Interpol, who sent him to help.”

“Yet he was also at the Cinnabar Lab after the unown started showing the odd behavior that proved to be precursor to their attack. I’ve tried reaching out to their lab’s head, to Mr. Sonezaki, to Interpol, and to Mr. Verres himself for comment so as to create a more thorough timeline, but without success.”

“I haven’t spoken to Red recently,” the professor says, and to his credit he doesn’t add in anything about how he was grieving too much to ask, true thought it might have been, simply turning from her to point to another reporter.

Zoey jots down a few more notes, then pays half attention to the rest of the questions and answers, mind already wondering how she would find Red Verres given he, or Interpol, clearly don’t want him speaking to the press. He hasn’t posted anything online since the incident either, and while he reportedly showed up to help deal with a Tier 2 near Saffron last week, she couldn’t find anyone who spoke to him there.

She hopes he’s not dead. She’d understand if it was being hidden, if he was, and might choose not to publish if it emboldens Rocket… but her extra-private source implied that he was at Cinnabar after the unown began to act strangely but before the attacks started. If there’s some connection between him and Sabrina’s student, Rowan, it might be more than coincidence… and if he caused the unown incident, along with or instead of Rowan, the public deserves to know what Interpol’s anti-Rocket weapon is really capable of.


They watch the news together, over meals. There were tense conversations, between, as they discussed what it would all mean. What, if anything, could be done now. Whether the danger is past.

They try to have lighter days as well. Walks through nature, listening to music while playing with the pokemon, playing games. Still, the stresses of society reach them.

Professor Oak’s press conference the previous week heralded waves of panic and wild speculation. The “glitchmon” have become the primary story of the unown incident, not just locally but around the world. It was easy for most people to ignore the threat of the ditto, given they were contained on Cinnabar. But this was global change, potentially a global threat.

Still, the threat has only manifested in Kanto so far. Elsewhere, the unown’s “awakening,” as it was being called, led to some deaths, but also showed their ability to create new pokemon… an ability that many regions were already turning into a reliable method for reviving fossils.

Those who believed the dreams portended doom see this as an acceleration toward the end times, protesting the dangers of such research both in the near-term and far. With the arrival of monsters that (supposedly) can weaponize the pokedex system back against humans, the destruction of the lab that birthed that technology feels more than symbolic. Internet alarmists insist it’s the end of the dex era as everyone awaits some sign that future iterations of the technology will be safer if glitchmon appear again.

Fuji has privately wondered as much himself. Mazda’s preoccupation has been elsewhere. Horror and fear, over the new behavior by the unown. Anger and despair, over the way other regions have not heeded the warnings. Worry, over the fate of the boy.

Fuji doesn’t try to dissuade them from seeking him out again. The danger is obvious, but the sense of obligation is compelling… from both of them, of a sort, if Fuji extends the gratitude he feels toward the boy’s mother. But it’s not his life or freedom that would be at risk, and they don’t necessarily know that Red Verres is hurt. Perhaps there is some other explanation for the boy’s absence from any media since his potential battle.

“You’re sure he faced Rowan?” Fuji asks, when Mazda brings up the desire again.

No, Mazda says. Not sure. But given the scope of what happened…

Fuji nods, and they tune in to the news again that night to listen to Champion Lance announce the results of Indigo’s discussions with foreign regions.

“Despite our best efforts to explain the danger, unown research will continue abroad,” the Champion said. “Given this, Sinnoh has said they would not ban their researchers from further study of pokemon genesis, and Hoenn has indicated that they believe Wally has a solution to the risk of the glitchmon. To maintain our position as one of the world’s leading regions for research, Indigo will lift its moratorium on wild unown study, after proper safety measures are enacted…”

Mazda’s tail lashes, and Fuji feels worry gnaw at his stomach. He reaches to turn off the stream, but Mazda lifts an arm to stop him.

“…including a partnership with Silph Corporation, to accelerate the completion of their Master Ball technology, improved to be capable of rendering even the glitchmon safely contained.”

Fuji feels his stomach clench. He knew the project would continue, that sooner or later the ball would be completed…

You said it was created for me.

Grief and regret, grinding his heart between them. He finishes pausing the stream, blocking off the Champion’s answers to some interregional politics question. “Yes. Not exclusively… they wanted them for the Stormbirds, first. But yes, I understood what the specs they added into it were for. A particular precaution, against particularly strong minds. Against telekinesis. I might have said it truly was meant to cover every circumstance, every eventuality… but given the collaboration between Silph and Giovanni, I think it was meant to be the ultimate backup measure.” He turns to Mazda, whose tail has gone completely still. Rigid. “What will you do?”

Mazda is silent, for a moment… and then rises from their seat, towering over Fuji as they stare at Champion Lance’s image on the monitor.

I have hidden long enough. They did not heed the dreams. They did not learn from the unown. Perhaps… a more direct approach is needed.

65 – AI and Contemporary Fiction

Daystar and Alexander talk about AI in writing, both for creating fiction and its impact on writing fiction set in the modern world.

Hosted by ⁠⁠⁠⁠Daystar Eld⁠⁠⁠⁠ and ⁠⁠⁠⁠Alexander Wales⁠⁠⁠⁠.

With thanks to Tim Yarbrough for the Intro/Outro music, ⁠⁠⁠⁠G.A.T.O Must Be Respected

 

Chapter 127: Tests

Chapter 127: Tests

Blue makes an effort to slow down just before he walks into Cinnabar Gym’s coordination room, taking a breath and doing his best to shed any frustration or anxiety from his body language. There’s a knot in his stomach, a restless, jittery heat in his limbs, but by the time the door closes behind him he feels at least a little more like he’s stepping into a battle arena.

The room is dimly lit so that the various monitors on the walls easily stand out, and so the 3D hologram of Cinnabar Island being projected above the central table is vibrant and crisp. Normally the room would have a mix of gym members and rangers, but other than Chase the rest of the people in the room are “his” crew. Friends who flew or ferried over from all over Kanto, when he put out the call weeks ago. Friends who are relying on him to have a vision, to know what he’s doing, and he pulls those expectations around him like a cloak, reminding himself of all the things he’s done to earn their trust, until he feels even more fully in control and confident.

He raises his hand in greeting when people turn toward him, then wanders from one part of the room to another, listening to each group as they work, as he normally would. Elaine and Marcus are sitting face to face on their computers, while Glen and Maria are searching through the storage PCs. Bretta, Slava, and Sumi are standing with Chase by a trainer roster being displayed on a wall monitor, the latter two mostly listening in as the former debate some of the newer trainers’ merits and weaknesses. By the time Blue makes it to the central table, he feels like enough time has passed that people will take the news more lightly, but still he waits, bringing up the visual overlay of the island that puts the grid over it, then highlights sections by emergency level.

Within a minute the colors update, and he says, “We’ve got problems.”

Elaine looks up from her computer, then stands and comes around to his side of the table, and after a moment Marcus follows her. Glen and Maria walk over from behind him, while Chase and the others turn from the wall.

“Zone D4?” Elaine frowns. “And E3.”

“Back to yellow?” Bretta asks.

“Orange.”

There’s a moment of silence, then Chase sighs. “Figured.” Cinnabar Gym’s Third is still wearing the dirt and stains of a hard battle on his uniform, and he looks even more tired than he sounds. “Heard G5 is also set to shift by the end of the week, if they don’t get that ranger outpost back up. Did they say what would turn D2 red?”

“Another few casualties might.” Blue zooms in on the region in question, a fertile plateau where some farm houses and ranches were set between Ranger outposts… until the whole area got overrun in the initial ditto stampede. “A new ditto outbreak would also do it, according to Mako.”

“He’s a worrier.” Glen taps another part of the table monitor to switch to the trainer roster the others are viewing. “Who can we rotate into the area?”

Blue glances around, trying to get a temperature check of the room. Maria seems grim. Glenn and Bretta, frustrated. Elaine is sad, but clearly focused. Slava and Marcus, disappointed. Sumi… dispirited? He’ll have a talk with her later.

They all look tired.

They’ve worked hard on this over the past few weeks. Lizzy and Alex are with the newer members, going over after-action reports while training Jamil to take over that role, while Maria and Viraj meet with Cadet Wendy and some other local trainers who like to do extra surveys with the rangers.

Together, they’ve built a system. A training program that weaves Cinnabar gym’s facilities, the group scenarios, and live field work side by side with the rangers to help ensure that the trainers here for their badge, most of whom have mainly focused on surviving wilds and battling other trainers, are prepared for… more.

Not just Cinnabar’s reclamation, but true wilderness taming. Expanding the reach of civilization.

But to do that, they’ve needed to both broaden and level up in a number of areas. Which means the team people Blue has gathered to guide them toward that goal needs to level up in a number of ways too.

First, evaluation. What trainers would work well together? What are their skills, and how balanced would the different teams be? They all help out with it, but Bretta, Sumi, and Maria have gravitated toward taking point, with a lot of input from Blue.

Second, scenario design. Elaine has become the main brains for those, working together with Marcus, Glen, and sometimes Bretta, who ran her own scenarios at the gyms she, Slava and Sumi visited if they didn’t already have them.

Third, field missions. Working side by side with rangers gives the trainers a wider range of knowledge, wider skills… and while most don’t translate to better skill in trainer battles, they do strengthen people’s pokemon, and give them opportunities to catch new ones.

Still, they’ve just barely managed to maintain the progress that led to CoRRNet downgrading Cinnabar’s risk profile. Something’s changed, on the island; stronger, higher stage evolutions of wild pokemon are showing up more often, and the stampeding patterns seem to be changing every few days.

Blue attended the ranger meeting at their city headquarters today to suggest the idea that a pokemon with Pressure is riling things up, like the absol in the diglett tunnels. It’s something they had already considered, apparently, but had no practical solution to discovering or dealing with if true. For now they’re just looking into ways to hold the areas they’ve worked so hard to reclaim lately.

Blue feels a resurgence of frustration and worry as he looks over how few strong trainers are left to do extra shifts, then reaches past Elaine to add his name to an extra D2 tour tomorrow. That done, he takes another breath. “I need you guys to tell me straight: how much more of this can you keep doing?”

The room is quiet. Blue turns to Chase, who has a brow raised. “This is your home, so I expect you’ll keep at it as long as you can. But I still want to know how long you think you can keep going at this pace, with your other duties as they are?”

“Blaine’s my Leader,” Chase says, as if that explains everything. “He says stop, give up some parts of the island, that’s what I do. He says keep trying, find a way? Then I go until I drop.”

Blue nods, but it’s not good enough. “Not doubting your commitment. But still, I want to know when you think that’ll be. Two weeks? Three? Can you keep your reflexes sharp enough to survive out there if you go through another month of this?”

Chase turns back toward the roster on the wall. Blue doesn’t fill the silence, and eventually Chase says, “Two more weeks, at least, if I start to get another hour of sleep each night. After that, even with a full nights’ worth, I’ll probably start making bigger mistakes, losing track of stuff, unless I cut down some shifts.”

Blue nods, then turns to Glen, because it has to be Glen next. His friend’s brow is furrowed, mouth set in a hard line. “This is my priority right now. The startup is going okay, new orders are coming in. Selling in Cinnabar has helped let me keep feeling good about both. I’m here.”

“For a month?” Blue tries not to sound like he’s pressing. “Three months?”

“Would you stay that long?” Chase asks, sounding more curious than skeptical.

It’s a fair question, and Blue turns back to him. “You know I’m aiming for the top, and more. If Cinnabar’s going to follow me the way I want all of Indigo to, I can’t leave it like this any more than Blaine could.”

“I’m here,” Glen says again, drawing Blue’s attention back to him. “So long as you are.”

Blue smiles, brief but sincere. “Good to know. Now how long can you keep this pace up?”

Glen’s expression softens, and he glances at Chase before turning back toward the projected island. “I was thinking of cutting down to five shifts a week. Now I feel like I need to stay at seven, but… at this rate, I’ve got a week of charge left, maybe two.”

Blue puts a hand on the older teen’s shoulder and squeezes. One of the many nice things about his growth spurt is he’s nearly as tall as Glen, now. He’s starting to think he might end up even taller. “Start with six. See how it feels.”

He turns to Elaine before Glen can argue. She’s got her arms folded, and the look in her eye reminds him of their talk, back in Fuchsia. When she confessed her feelings for Glen, and her worries that she was losing her edge. And her response to his fear, that he’d get people killed who weren’t ambitious or skilled enough to fight beside him willingly.

“I’m here,” is all she says. “I can go at least another two weeks at this pace.”

Marcus, standing beside her, shrugs a shoulder. “I’m still having fun with the scenarios we’re making, and the wilds getting stronger just means I get stronger too. Ask me again in a month.”

Blue nods, then turns to Maria and says before she can start, “Don’t feel bad if—”

“—two weeks. Then I have to get back to my training with Jason. But I’ll still come by, now and then.” She gives him a slight smile, and it rests easy on her face. “I might feel a little bad, but not as much as if I hadn’t come at all.”

Blue smiles back. “Fair.” Maria’s time with Jason seems to have finished the process of pulling her out of her shell, and made her a lot more… calm is the only word Blue can think of for it. His disappointment over her pausing her journey has been entirely replaced by a confused relief over the clear benefits to her after what happened under the Rocket Casino, and he keeps meaning to talk to Jason about what they’ve been doing in case it’s a skill he could have learned to do for her instead.

He turns to Bretta, Slava, and Sumi. Bretta looks at her two friends, clearly pushing them to answer first, until Slava caves.

“I think I can keep this up for another week. I’m willing to keep going for more, but… I don’t know how much more.”

Sumi runs a hand through her hair. “I’d like to stay as long as we can.” Blue doesn’t miss the way she subtly includes Slava, and possibly Bretta. “But if the island ends up going through cycles… I still have two more badges besides this one. Might take a break to pick them up.”

“I want a path to victory,” Bretta says, blunt as ever. “Even if we gain ground faster than we lose it, we’ll end up stuck if the lost ground gets stronger than we can easily handle. It’s like we’re facing a trainer whose whole team is a setup for a Toxic stall.”

“It’s not that bad,” Chase says with a shrug. “We can secure most of the island, except a handful of areas that only the strongest trainers can deal with. Blaine won’t be happy, but he’s a pragmatist at heart. If he sees it’s no-win, he’ll shift focus to containment.”

Blue shakes his head. He likes Chase, but it’s exactly this kind of thinking that he has to change, even here on Cinnabar where people are used to more “active” defense. “That’s not sustainable if it takes weeks of extra trainer rotations to bring the zones to blue. Anything could happen in that time to put the whole island back in red.”

Bretta nods. “Stormbringer.”

“Second new species outbreak,” Sumi adds.

“Renegade activity.” Glen glances at Blue, who keeps his face neutral.

He gave his friends simple tasks, if they had the free slack, tasks which he sort of regrets given the sudden slew of new difficulties the island faces, and how little they learned.

Glen’s startup has been going well, and it puts him in contact with a growing list of distributors for all the various restaurants, grocers, and supply stores in the region… and on Cinnabar, that list is fairly short. Elaine’s been scouting the island more than anyone else to find good locations for scenarios, which gave her plenty of reasons to check out the different potential places where other hidden labs might be set up. Maria, Lizzy, Bretta, everyone has been making friends, asking questions, trying to get a better sense from the locals of what else might be happening on the island.

The little bits of information shared with each other haven’t amounted to much, which Blue expected, but was still mildly disappointed by. All they had was a rough time range where odd people might have showed up in the city or nearby towns, a general location where weird things might have happened, and a vague idea of what sorts of things might be included.

Even the lab’s discovery hasn’t changed much, other than to raise everyone’s awareness of the potential stakes. Blaine’s arrival made it clear that there was no need to hide things anymore… but at the very least, Blue has kept the secret of what Leaf suspects the lab was for. He doesn’t want to betray people’s confidence, and also it might make him seem a little unhinged if they’re wrong.

But it’s what’s on his mind when he says, “Or another set of myths waking up somewhere and turning the world on its head.”

Bretta nods. “Hell, a big enough stampede could send everyone back to the safety of the city.”

“Alright, alright,” Chase says, and sighs. “Not saying I want that. But most of our trainers aren’t getting strong enough, fast enough, to make a meaningful difference in the zones that are flaring up. We’ve got an absurdly low casualty rate given what we’ve been doing, and you guys can claim some credit for that. It’s a part of why Blaine has been so willing to give you more autonomy. But if more trainers start getting maimed or killed, or even losing too many strong pokemon, we’ll lose even more to caution and worry.”

And Blaine might retract some, or all, of that autonomy. It doesn’t need to be said, and Blue nods to show he’s got the message, feeling some of the anxious churn in his stomach again.

“We’ve still got a quarter of the recruits to organize.” Bretta says. “Once they’re ready to run a scenario—”

“Just run?” Chase asks. “Half the groups from last week couldn’t complete theirs.”

“We need a path to victory, like Bretta said,” Blue cuts in. It’s so clear, in pokemon battles. It’s not always right, but it’s at least there. A series of steps that will force the opponent into a corner, strip their options one by one, until defeat is inevitable. A series of readied reactions for different possibilities, to adapt to the range of things they might do.

But there’s no opponent here, no single mind he’s trying to beat, with limited options on its belt. There’s just… the world. It’s the endless potential of the wilds, of new combinations of enemies showing up at times and places that are hard to predict, and in amounts that are hard to prepare for.

“I want to believe we could do it with the people we have,” Blue says. “That we just need to be more—” He almost says unpredictable. Which wouldn’t make any sense, in this case, but… “Adaptable. Something we haven’t thought of before, something gyms or CoRRNet couldn’t do before. But new options would be good, whatever form they come in.”

“More resources can also lead to new options,” Elaine says.

“Resources are tapped, if you mean money,” Chase says. “Emergency funding worked, as far as Indigo is concerned, and CoRRNet won’t re-escalate our ranking unless things get way worse. Cinnabar’s in debt for the foreseeable future, and the Gym’s only avoiding budget cuts because the League is helping out.”

“Do we know any charitable millionaires willing to offer a bunch of money?” Slava asks. “Maybe even bounty money? We could reach out to some, frame it as a charity thing, or…?”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Glen says, speaking slowly. “But a bunch of professional bounty hunters showing up would definitely create a different vibe.”

“Do we care about vibes?” Chase asks, brow raised. “Because I know Blaine wouldn’t care about vibes, if it makes people safer.”

“It might get trainers already helping out wondering why they’re not getting paid,” Slava says.

Glen crosses his arms. “If they’re as skilled as the professionals, maybe they should.”

“Okay, sidelining that debate for the third time,” Blue says. “Good ideas so far, keep them coming. Something besides money.”

“New outreach,” Elaine says. “We tapped What Comes Next, and there’s a lot of overlap with the others we know, but we could reach out to people directly?”

“Dragon Dojo.” Glen starts ticking off with his fingers. “Stormchasers?”

“Ew,” Sumi says.

“Agreed, but we’re in babble mode,” Blue says. “Just spit the ideas out, we’ll prune down to practical ones later. More suggestions?”

Bretta was studying the roster again, but turns to face them, frowning slightly. “Vermilion Gym? Might seem like poaching…”

The room is quiet for a moment. Blue tries to imagine that conversation, maybe between him and Surge directly, maybe just between Blaine and Surge…. “It’s not bad,” he says slowly. “But also might not be enough. At this point, we’d need, what, another fifty trainers with 3+ badges?”

“At least,” Sumi says. “Closer to seventy, all dedicating a few hours a day for three weeks.”

“Four to be safe,” Slava adds.

Bretta returns to studying the roster. “And yeah, three badges or equivalent would be needed to be extra careful not to risk new casualties. 4 badges would be better, with how absurdly fast the wilds on the island are getting stronger.”

“I’d be surprised if there are that many unattached high level trainers in Kanto that haven’t already come,” Chase says. “Or even all of Indigo. And if we want to attract people from further out, there needs to be a better prize involved, which leads us back to the incentives. If not money, then…?”

“Status?” Blue muses. “If we can hype participation up more…”

“Ditto,” Glen suggests. “People still need to hand over their catches until they’re safe, but maybe we can ensure everyone has a rotation through a ditto heavy area.”

“What about the area where a more stable ecosystem is developing?” Elaine suggests.

“It’s an idea. I’ll talk with Ira and Wendy. As for the earlier idea about rich folk, Red knows Bill, and Silph owes him a favor. Gramps also might have ideas about what’s happening on the island, and what we can do about it.” Blue switches the table setting to view the island hologram again, selecting the routes going through that area. “What about tactics? What sort of terrain are we working in, how can we change that?”

“You want to drain a lake or something?” Chase asks, sounding grudgingly admiring. “Flood some strong wild habitats? Because Blaine might have objections.”

“Babble first,” Elaine reminds him. “Pretty sure CoRRNet would too, but that’s for later.”

“Speaking of which…” Slava hesitates, then clears his throat. “Yeah, terrible idea probably, but uh… what about introducing some new invasive species?”

“Oh yeah,” Chase sighs. “This’ll go well.”


“And we’re live, in three… two… Hey Indigo, what’s bad, what’s good, what’s better than yesterday, cuz today I’m here on the island of fiery desire live with a random trainer you may have heard of named Blue Oak, currently acting member of the Cinnabar Gym. Mug for the camera, Blue.”

Blue smiles, a naturally wry expression he turns toward the held up camera for just a couple seconds before returning his gaze to the path they’re climbing. “Hey everyone. Watch your step here, it’s mossy.”

“Mossy, right.” Brightfire has bright blue hair swept up to a twirling point above his head, a cheerful disposition, and dark golden eyes that mark him as a member of one of Indigo’s “Dragon Clans.” To his credit, those gold eyes do sweep over the ground as he takes some careful steps up to the next ridge. The camera set in its swivel-mount atop his shoulder points down to take in the uneven terrain before lifting and turning to take in his profile again, and Blue’s face beyond. “Clan, Blue here says this is the best route to get a good view of what he’s been up to over on Cinnabar. It’s been a bit of a climb, but we’ll be there in…?”

“Few more minutes.”

“A few more minutes! During which, we have time for a few starters. Such as, what made you reach out to little old me? I’m sure all my clanmates who’ve been busy doing cool shit weren’t too busy to hear about that whole Miracle Eye thing, but you haven’t spoken to the press since, despite all the stuff you’ve been doing here, and I’m not exactly a journalist.”

Brightfire (born Bastion, as if that wasn’t already a cool enough name) may not be a journalist, but he’s got a larger online presence than most news sources. Child to a branch of the most famous Indigo Dragon Clan family, he started his journey under the massive shadow of his first cousin twice removed, Indigo Champion Lance. But unlike most in his family (and according to rumors, much to their displeasure), he aborted his gym circuit after his 7th badge, a couple years before Blue left Pallet Town. Instead of going on to challenge his aunt’s gym in Blackthorn, he ended up liveblogging a series of daring and extremely risky pokemon captures.

It exploded his already decently sized following, and the infamy he gained from some online commenters only brought him more. Blue had written him off as an interesting but somewhat dangerous influence, spurring people on to try things they weren’t prepared for to imitate his heroics, or gather some of his fame for themselves…

But the older teen is undeniably skilled, and undeniably inspires trainers to try harder and push their boundaries. Things Blue shares a natural affinity for, even if he’s more interested in reinventing gym cultures than rejecting them entirely.

“I invited you because I think you’d appreciate what we’re doing here,” Blue says, letting his voice carry the frank honesty he feels. “But I also invited you because I want your audience.”

“Uh oh, clan. Have we been duped? Top ten anime betrayals?” Brightfire is smiling. They didn’t rehearse any of this; it’s a point of pride for him to only record things live, and his reputation is built on authenticity. “You’ve got a pretty big following yourself, Oak. If they won’t bite, what makes you think my collection of free spirits will pay the price of admission for whatever you’re selling here?”

Blue feels a spark of heat in his chest. He wants to push back against the idea that his followers aren’t “biting,” but there’s a tangle of traps around claiming the people who follow him are people he can get to do things, comparing them in any way to Brightfire’s following, all while avoiding coming off as defensive if he says he did get plenty of people to come. “No price, and it’s not for me. I won’t even be on Cinnabar much longer, if things go well. But we’re doing something new here, something daring, and something hard. I’ll be pretty surprised if you or your ‘clan’ don’t want a taste.”

“We heard those airquotes, didn’t we, clan? But okay, Oak, we’re here and you’ve got us pegged. Just gotta see if whatever you’re doing is worth my time. The clan can decide for themselves, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Like any of them would do something their idol had spurned… though it might not be all-or-nothing. Brightfire could admit that the endeavor is daring enough, but say he’s not joining because he’s got other plans, and those people who want to be part of it could feel like they have his blessing to come. “How much do you know about what I’ve been up to, exactly?”

“I’ve heard about the wargames you’ve been putting people through at Kanto gyms. I’d say it’s a step in the right direction, but if you know anything about me—”

“Been watching your stuff since I was 9.”

“—you know what I’m going to say next.”

“‘No risk of dying, no point in trying.'” Blue shrugs a shoulder. “It took you far, and led a lot of your clan to greatness.”

“You mean my bio clan, or are you sucking up to the viewers?”

“Both. But there are still god-like, elemental forces wreaking havoc throughout Indigo, and I’d be dumb to call you a coward, but I am wondering when you’re going to go for broke.”

Brightfire grins. “He’s calling us out, clan. You bring me all this way just for that, Oak? What do we say, clan? You go for a dragonite, your belt better be loaded. Glory comes in the fight even if you fail, but fighting hard means fighting smart, and I’m not dumb enough to think I’m ready to beat the Beasts.”

“But you plan to be, someday? Does anyone from your clan plan to be?”

“Hey clan, he’s talking to you. Anyone gonna do something stupid enough to make all of us look like overeager idiots?”

Blue wants to say that’s not answering his question. If anything it’s implying the answer is no, not really, but in a way that makes them look noble and sane rather than afraid or hypocritical. But before he can, Brightfire slows, then grins and speeds up.

He heard it.

They make the rest of the climb quickly, spurred on by the distant shouts and other sounds of battle drifting from afar and echoing faintly around them, until they finally crest the final ridge, where a top down view of a plateau sticking out the side of a nearby mountain is waiting for them.

From this distance, they can just make out a squad of four trainers who are currently engaged against seven “wild” pokemon, their own trainers imitating a stampede that’s upping its pressure little by little, pushing them back toward the edge of the plateau. Brightfire seems at least a little interested, maybe just by how close the defending trainers are from the cliff’s edge. His left thumb and forefinger have sensor rings around them, and small twitches pan the camera on his shoulder left and right, followed by a pinching motion that sends its lens stretching forward.

They watch together as one of the trainers is forced back even further by rock thrown by a graveler. The figures are distant enough that it’s hard to differentiate them, but one of the closer trainers comes to their rescue, only for a fresh stampede wave to force the two of them further back.

“What are they trying to do?” Brightfire asks. “Not just survive, yeah?”

“Why not?” Blue asks, tone light. Obviously baiting.

“Too tame.” Brightfire’s gaze is fixed on the battle, despite his motto, and he detaches the camera from his shoulder, then holds it up to his eye so he can see more clearly. The four trainers are all being forced back again, and some are almost entirely out of room to maneuver. “And pointless. If it’s a real cliff, and they’re supposed to be in the field, they should have teleporters. Non-dark trainers hold them off while darks get on their fliers, then teleport away. Let them stampede off, or fight them somewhere better suited.”

It’s always nice to get reminders of how taken for granted it is, these days, that teleportation should be factored into any group of trainers’ strategy. “And if it’s not?”

“What, like the drop is a crowd of civvies or a hospital or something? And you just have them fight here to make it more intense?” Brightfire’s smiling now. “Still seems too tame. I thought you were doing interesting stuff. Come on, Oak. What’s the trick?”

“I’ll give you hints. One, they are just trying to survive.”

“Lame.”

“And two, it is supposed to be a real cliff.”

Brightfire glances at him, then looks through his camera again. A moment passes before he says, “But there’s a trick. Alright. Clan chat’s probably exploding with guesses, but I’ll figure this out myself.”

Blue nods, and watches as the fourth trainer has finished healing their pokemon, and rejoins the fight. Some of the “stampeding” pokemon get ordered to move toward a path off the plateau, and the recovered trainer rushes to engage them in battle, drawing them back toward the others and joining them in a more robust defense.

Brightfire’s lips purse, and Blue catches him looking up, then around, then down, and knows he got it, even if he doesn’t know the how, yet.

Still, the group has to survive a little longer, and it’s looking bad. A blast of heat from an arcanine sends a pokemon nearly tumbling over the edge, sending Blue’s heart leaping into his throat. It only barely gets returned on time, but the distraction causes the trainer to get forced back once more… and then they turn to leap off the plateau.

“What,” is all Brightfire gets out before the plummeting figure engages their parachute, which blooms above them and slows their descent before they drop too far or fast, letting them glide toward the valley below. “Ha! Okay, clan, that got me, and I bet it got most of you. If all their bags are parachutes… they’re all dark?”

“No, not all.”

“But some won’t have time to mount up before it happens.”

“Before what happens?”

Brightfire just grins. “Whatever ‘it’ is. Hoping some of you figured it out, clan. Assuming they last long enough…”

Nearly thirty seconds of more desperate fighting ensue, and a few of the stampeding pokemon “escape,” being returned to their balls and sent back out. The team training will lose points for each of those, but it’s as Brightfire said. They just have to hold out, and keep the majority of their opponents engaged…

It’s gotten easier since that first badge scenario he watched in Vermilion Gym, but Blue’s heart still pounds as he watches the battle, and he wipes sweaty palms carefully on his pants. He wants this to go well for the sake of convincing Brightfire, but he also wants it to go well because he wants their new strategy to work. They couldn’t exactly practice it, here…

Another trainer looks like they’re moments away from jumping when the CRACK sounds. Brightfire and Blue look up to see two trainers higher up on the mountain, who weren’t in position yet when Brightfire checked. Their summoned rhyperior and onix are hard at work striking at certain parts of a cliff, and another CRACK echoes around them, followed by a third, until the jutting earth finally starts to fall.

The trainers scramble to withdraw their pokemon and summon teleporters, or run for the edge if dark. Blue feels a stirring of awe at the sight of the mountain face just… breaking, melting, tons of rock billowing dust out as it starts to gain momentum, all that earth almost seeming to turn liquid as it rushes the rest of the way toward the plateau the trainers are on…

…but it’s already clear, the last one having just leapt and deployed their parachute as the first of the boulders comes bouncing down ahead of the landslide.

The noise is incredible, an echoing rumble that still manages to be quiet and steady enough that it sounds like a waterfall, but with the occasional echoing crackle of breaking trees or bouncing boulders. Blue’s heart leaps into his throat as a boulder bounces in the direction of one of the trainers, while Brightfire lets out a whoop. It’s not close, really, but Blue still lets out a long breath as the last of them gets far enough to be clear, the line of colorful parachutes floating steadily away. The mountain continues to feed the hungry beast that awakened on its surface, obliterating greenery and ridges far below them all.

The plateau the trainers were on is still standing, but it’s scoured clean, and most of the edge has been cut off as if by a giant knife. It’s a little surreal to be standing in the same place he was a minute ago, and have the world in front of him so drastically transformed. Blue looks up to the trainers who caused it, and sees they’ve withdrawn their pokemon and left.

Brightfire is laughing, and Blue turns toward him with a brow raised. “How close were you?”

“I thought maybe something would appear beneath them.” Brightfire shakes his head, still grinning, and turns the camera around to face him. “What do you say clan? Worth the show? Glad you tuned in?”

“I did promise a good view, at the very least.”

“You did, and delivered.” Brightfire is still chuckling. “CoRRNet really gives you permission for this, Oak?”

“They do. I’m working with them, and the gym, to make sure we’re all pushing toward the same goal, so we can do things we otherwise couldn’t alone.”

“Yeah yeah, message is clear, we got it, don’t we, clan? Stronger together.” Brightfire shrugs. “Impressive as it is, I don’t see how it’s supposed to turn the tide of what’s going on in Cinnabar.”

“It’s just a part of the overall plan.” Blue shrugs back. “Those trainers, they became more prepared to fight in an environment that limited their movement. They faced overwhelming odds in a battle of endurance. And the other team identified an environmental factor they could use to their advantage, and made it work for them within just a few minutes of scouting the area.”

“Assuming this wasn’t scripted.”

Blue just gives him a level look. “I didn’t bring down a chunk of a mountain just to impress you.”

“You did it to impress me and spice up the learning activity?”

Blue smiles slightly. “A bit closer. Like I said, there’s a few different parts to our new overall strategy. Will you stick around a couple days, so I can show you a few more?”

“Any of them as impressive as this?” Brightfire’s brow is raised. “Because I kind of doubt you’ve got something else of that caliber ready, and we already knew you were a showman. If that was your inner crew—”

“Wasn’t,” Blue says. “Veteran group, but all 3 and 4 badgers. My friends were the stampede trainers, not the ones being trained, or the two up top, who were just a couple well suited gym members given free rein to do whatever they expected would work, after setting eyes on the location for the first time.”

“Sure. Point is, if someone from clan gets here expecting to learn to parachute and bring down mountains, how likely are they instead to shovel shit for weeks, or handhold 1 and 2-badgers?”

Blue does his best to control his smile, to show his amusement without letting on to the sudden hope he feels. Brightfire definitely isn’t showing no interest… even if he’s only talking as if it’s about his clan, and not his own odds of staying to join up.

He addresses the camera directly. “That’s up to the trainer. The abilities of everyone here is judged as fairly as we can, so just showing up claiming to be part of ‘clan Brightfire’ isn’t going to give anyone special treatment. But I will say, I plan for this island to be back to where it was before the ditto appeared, and I don’t plan to waste any time—or anyone’s time—on minor shit. We’re going to be doing almost two dozen special ops a week, when the ball gets rolling, and we’re going to need strong trainers doing what they do best… and learning new tricks along the way.”

Brightfire is watching him with a wry look, and when Blue meets those golden eyes, he sees something both predatory and respectful. “I guess I can stick around another day. See just how strong the wilds on this island are, that they’re giving you all so much trouble…”


This isn’t how Blue expected to arrive at Viridian Gym.

Final gyms are supposed to be special. To have an extra air of reverence and anticipation. To inspire an extra level of confidence, a knowledge that everyone there would know he’s a step below being qualified to, perhaps, become their boss’s boss, or their boss’s boss’s boss.

But instead of seven badges, he only has six when he walks into the Gym lobby for the first time.

He also hoped to come at the head of a small army, loyal trainers who were also strong enough to get an eighth badge, whether it was Giovanni’s or not, and would travel through Indigo Plateau with him until they reached the very top of the League and had a series of final, intense battles to see who among them would be Champion.

But instead he arrives alone. In style, on the back of Soul, but not as impressive as he would otherwise be with a proper retinue.

He even hoped that along the way between arriving and challenging Giovanni, he’d get a sense of the gym culture, find some way to improve or revolutionize it the way he did Vermilion, Fuchsia, Cinnabar, or even Celadon.

Instead Blue just makes his way through the gym without recognizing or connecting with anyone (though he caught the extra stares and excited looks). The gym’s overall vibe, as far as he can tell, is that of a standard, competent gym that has no apparent theme beyond the earth tones and geode displays lining the halls.

He knows that’s not the whole of it. Giovanni Sakai would not run a standard, competent gym. He could make a right at this fork, go down to the classes to see how they’re taught, or check the training rooms to observe a few battles among the gym members.

Instead Blue enters an elevator, walks down a hall, and arrives at Giovanni’s office. A black marble door set in the stone walls meets his fist as he knocks.

“Come in.”

Blue does, and a moment later he’s sitting in the office of one of the most powerful trainers in Indigo, a room that encapsulates the cold, implacable power and authority of the earth, with mosaic walls of polished black and brown stones, geodes of various colors tastefully set in sconces by each corner, and a black stone desk shot through with veins of gold.

“Good morning, Trainer Oak.” Giovanni is wearing his usual dark suit, matching the stone of the walls and desk.

“Morning, Leader. Thanks for inviting me.” He would have preferred an online exchange, but upon hearing what the topic Blue wanted to discuss, Giovanni said an in-person chat would go better, and Blue isn’t the sort to turn down the persuasion advantage that gives.

All of Erika’s lessons are on his mind as he meets the powerful Leader’s gaze, a distant part of him still capable of fanboying over the youngest champion in Indigo history. “As the nearest gym to Cinnabar, I’d like to suggest—”

“I agree. My gym will reach out to Leader Blaine today, and negotiate logistics.” Giovanni’s smile is small, but feels almost mischievous as Blue blinks at him. “I’m sorry, did you want to go through your pitch in full, first?”

“No, Leader,” Blue says, and the surge of relief as it sinks in that he won is mildly dizzying. Combined with the “Brightfire clan” arrivals, which started with a dozen trainers on the day of the livestream and nearly thirty in the following week, Viridian Gym members would provide an extra robust backbone to their roster. “I appreciate the help.” But wait, why invite Blue here if—

“It’s nothing. I’d additionally like you to know that should you want to challenge me, the arena is ready at any time. A few basic battles with my gym members, to observe the formalities, one thrilling match between us that you can add to your legacy highlights, and the Viridian badge will be yours.”

Blue stares at Leader Giovanni, surprise shifting quickly to wariness. After seven gyms where Blue has had to work his ass off trying to get his matches earlier, to be practically handed the badge… his last badge, by Giovanni of all people…

It doesn’t sit right. Is Blue being toyed with? Did Blaine mention to the Viridian Leader that he specifically wanted to save him for last?

“In exchange for what?” is all he says after the silence has spun out too long.

Giovanni spreads his hands, and leans back slightly in his chair. “No cost, Blue Oak. You’ve made your intention to become Champion clear. I approve. Your skills as a trainer and as a leader are still growing, but you already command more loyalty than you know. You also wish to do so quickly, allowing for the occasional undertaken project. I believe you could beat me if given a chance, or two. Three at absolute most. Do you disagree?”

Blue relaxes slightly, hearing it spelled out so clearly. He feels like he’s speaking to Erika, in a way, appreciating the directness and honesty, but… more than that, there’s something warming, something empowering, about hearing the Viridian Gym Leader say he approves of Blue aiming to become Champion. “No, Leader.”

“Good. So why pretend that you’re like any other trainer? The things you’ve done and seen elevate you above the usual 6 badges you carry. Some of your companions may warrant a similar fast tracking, but they can arrive in their own time.”

It’s all so gratifying. Too gratifying. “Do you plan to throw the match?”

“Would you say yes, if I did?”

Ah, of course. He was so surprised by the sudden shift he didn’t think of it, but obviously this has all been some test.

But it seems too easy of one. Giovanni wouldn’t be satisfied with a quick and confident no, Blue is sure.

And so he thinks it through. What would it mean for him? Not just his legacy, but how he views himself? Like Giovanni said, Blue knows he’d be able to beat him sooner or later… and he’d get the near-perfect record. Something that might make all the difference, when the time comes to rally the region behind him.

There’s no way for Giovanni to know if his answer would be truthful, one way or the other. Maybe it’s the pause to deliberate that matters, or maybe he’s delayed too long already.

He almost says yes. It would have been unthinkable before he got here, but sitting in the Leader’s office, hearing him be so frank and direct… it seems like the obvious, practical answer that the Leader would respect for that, rather than see as a cheat of some kind.

And he so wants to be practical. To be direct in asking for what he wants, and just move on to the next more important thing.

But he didn’t make it all the way here on practicality alone.

“I think,” Blue says instead, each word feeling heavy and firm as the earth. “That I would do myself more harm than good, carrying your badge into Victory Road like that. I’ve dreamed of facing you in a real test of skill for half of my life… and that’s something I could give up, for the sake of Indigo. But what I can’t do without is the knowledge that I deserve to be Champion, in every way that matters. And beating you, for my eighth badge… it’s a test that matters, to me, like few others.”

It’s rare to see Leader Giovanni smile as wide as he does now. “I look forward to it. So let’s see how we can deliver Cinnabar back the peace it’s lost, and speed up the day that test comes.”

Chapter 125: Interlude XXV – Shared Weight

Chapter 125: Interlude XXV – Shared Weight

Blaine?”

The call dragged him from sleep, back protesting as he abruptly sat forward in his chair. His office was dimly lit, and it took him a moment to regather his bearings, separate dream from reality…

Blaine, they’re here.”

A jolt of adrenaline chased most of the remaining drowsiness away, and he rushed to unplug his workpad as he stood. Pins and needles made him sag against the desk, but he forced himself around it and forward, grabbing his lab coat on the way out so he could shove his arms through its sleeves.

Yuki paced the hall, looking like she got just as little sleep as he did. Still, her hair was brushed into a glossy dark wave, her white coat spotless over a bright yellow halter top. All of which made him acutely aware that he didn’t bring a change of clothes for the morning, because he didn’t plan to fall asleep here. Mistake. Should have predicted…

You okay?” she asked, voice low.

Yes. My coat?”

She fussed at its collar to make it lie flat, then straightened his tie. “You shaved.”

Bad?” He touched jaw and cheek. It felt overly exposed and sensitive to the air, all except for his upper lip, where he’d left a mustache.

No, looks good. You stayed here all night?”

Had to make sure.”

I could have helped.” She stepped back.

My responsibility. You handled yours.”

I still could have helped.”

He shook his head. Part of him did appreciate the offer, but… working in the field, at labs, or in corporations showed him time and again the dangers of a diffuse work hierarchy. Worse, of a structure where the responsibility was diffuse…

So long as one person was, ultimately, responsible for each task, it was easier to not slack off and hope someone else made up the lack. For most things, delegation is necessary, but motivation and error correction could only be clearly evaluated and ensured when the chain of responsibility is clear and singular.

A knock at the front door. “One more minute!” she called out.

You didn’t let them in?”

And bring them where, to see you napping?”

He sighed and straightened his tie, only for her to reach out and straighten it again.

Remember,” she said, letting out a slow breath as her gaze met his. “Slow. Okay?”

Blaine nodded and took his own slow breath over the pounding of his heart. She smiled, squeezed his arm, then went toward the front door.

He checked his pad once more, making sure it was on the right page, then followed. They’ve done enough. Surely, it will be enough…

“—pleasure to meet you.”

The two League officials appeared to be around his age, which could be a good or bad thing. Either his lab was too small to warrant a serious investigation, or too small to warrant someone senior enough for complex decisions…

Dr. Ueda.” The woman bowed to him. “I’m Minori, this is Kenzo. We’re here to discuss—”

Yes, hello.” He returned the bow, but not before he saw Yuki’s wince from behind them. He knew why they’re here, they knew he knew why they’re here, why delay things? “I’ve prepared a list of our efforts to—”

Would you like some tea, first?” Yuki asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

I’ll pass, thank you,” Minori said, and Kenzo nodded his own appreciation. “But we can start with a tour, if that’s alright?”

Of course.” Blaine led them back the way he came, passing the shared office he, Yuki, and the other three at his startup shared. Past the bathroom and closet, and into the living room. Or what used to be a living room.

The walls were lined with shelves, three large tables filling most of the floor space. “Chemistry,” he said, pointing to one, then the second and third. “Mechanics, materials.”

The two league officials stared at the crowded space. He wondered if they were waiting for more explanation, but surely they knew what the lab was working on from their briefing… surely they’d had a briefing?

And… the kitchen?”

Not for food,” Yuki said with a smile. “Some intersection of chemistry and biology. Samples go in the fridge, any disposal in the sink. Don’t worry, we ensure they’re safe for the piping, and water soluble.”

It’s all in my documents,” Blaine tried, holding his pad up again.

Capture ball prototype?” Kenzo asked, speaking for the first time. Blaine followed his gaze to the casing of Silph’s newest design. It’s a marvel of engineering, almost small enough to fit in one hand.

Alterations. Testing heat and pressure tolerance.”

Testing… where?”

Volcano and ocean.” Blaine tried to keep his burgeoning frustration in check as he avoided mentioning that it was in his documents. He knew they were here for direct observation, not just review their policies—that could have been done online. But he expected they would want to get on with their day as much as he did, and they would be able to ask more meaningful questions after reading the documentation…

And is this the state the lab was in during the license clearance?”

More or less,” Yuki said, skipping over the hours of cleaning, organizing, and cataloging they all put in. “We’ve added some equipment, but nothing that would add to risk profiles.”

Minori took another look around. “I have to admit, I expected your work here to be mostly theoretical, with the lab consisting only of simulation, or material production.”

We can theorize at home,” Blaine said, trying to restrain his sarcasm. It would serve no purpose. “Have either of you worked in chemistry or engineering?”

Material science,” Kenzo says. “For just a few years.”

Chemistry, but studied rather than worked in.” Minori said. “You likely don’t remember many names or faces, but our lab came to collaborate with yours in university. Unfortunately, the trip was cut short by—”

Moltres,” Blaine said, memories making his pulse quicken. Memories of air so dry and hot he worried his clothes would burst into flame. Of time slipping through his fingers, the waves of Pressure driving him to scramble from one minute to the next… “Yes, I’d forgotten that.”

Yuki was watching him. He should say more? He shifted his weight, cleared his throat. “It was a difficult time, after.” The reconstruction, the loss of life and destroyed work… the frustration he felt, after, with everyone’s lack of coordination, of ability… and his own powerlessness. “I’m glad you made it safely through.”

You too. I changed focus, after. Took up training again.”

Blaine nodded, then added, “I considered it.” He’d been good, as a trainer. Perhaps better than he was a researcher.

But his best efforts as a trainer weren’t enough. It wasn’t a path to keeping what happened that day from happening again.

There’s some more equipment through here,” Yuki said. “And then we can show you our documentation?”

They followed her, and it took another ten minutes before they were seated in the somewhat cramped office. Kenzo read from his phone after Blaine sent him a copy of the document, and Minori read from his pad, while Yuki and he simply watched them scroll. Blaine woke his computer at one point and tried to do some work, but he mostly failed to do anything more than check his mail numerous times.

Finally, Minori handed the pad back. Kenzo continued reading, but nodded when she said, “It’s an impressive list of measures, especially for a startup this small. I’ll let the League know that, by my judgment, your lab is being very cautious. Perhaps even overly so.”

His shoulders felt as though they were relaxing for the first time in days. He let out a long, slow breath, and beside him heard Yuki doing the opposite. “Thank you.”

However…”

He should have known.

I feel I should be upfront, and warn you that it’s possible their decision still won’t be favorable.”

He stared at her, saw the regret in her eyes, the way her hands clasped in her lap. Kenzo was slowly putting his phone away. “Why?”

We’re not part of those meetings. But my boss’s boss has been pretty insistent that what happened in Hoenn can’t happen here.”

But… we still have no idea why the computers became pokemon!”

Do we?” Yuki asked. “Is it being kept secret?”

Not as far as we know,” Kenzo said. “But the leading idea among the public is that maybe artificial pokemon come from places where things are being invented.”

Blaine opened his mouth to scoff, but Minori held a hand up. “I agree that’s not a good explanation. But the League is mostly deferring to civilian government on this, and the public has spoken. We expect a new category of zoning laws will go into effect, requiring laboratories to be away from residential areas.”

He felt the weight back on his shoulders, and deeper, in his chest. His hands were clenched on his armrests, and he took deep breaths, trying not to think of all the work they’d put into this, all the money and time… “We can’t relocate. We barely have the spare funding to move everything to another location, let alone build a whole new lab.”

And the prices of suitable places have already jumped,” Yuki murmured. “There have been rumors…”

Minori nodded, still looking sad, but didn’t say anything else. Blaine could feel himself wanting to yell, to plead. Their research wasn’t just a way to launch the company, it was important, it could change the kinds of pokemon everyone could tame, make the capture balls more durable…

But those would be emotional appeals, and none of it would matter. It’s not up to them. They heard his arguments and evidence, and none of it would reach those who are making the decision, ultimately.

Because those people didn’t exist, not really. They were everywhere, an amorphous blob of fear and superstition, made up of people who he can barely talk to on a normal day, on regular topics. No one person is taking responsibility for the decision or the counterfactual harm, not even the Champion or President.

The silence went on for over a minute, and it was Yuki who stirred first, and murmured, “Thank you, both of you, for your time.”

Of course. I wish we—”

You could have just said it.”

A hand gripped his shoulder. He almost shook it off.

It’s not a sure thing, Dr. Ueda. I just—”

The warning is appreciated.” Yuki’s fingers dig into his arm, but what harm, to be frank? What would it matter? “It would have been appreciated more a week ago, or even yesterday. If you’re visiting anyone else,” he grits out, heart pounding and jaw aching with his restraint. “I suggest you tell them up front how little their efforts will matter, and that you’re just there to check boxes off a list.”

Blaine—”

They should know as soon as possible that—”

It’s not their—”

It’s alright,” Kenzo said, and stood. “Really. I think it’s better if we go.”

Minori stood as well. “I’m sorry. And thank you for the… suggestion, Dr. Ueda. It’s… not something I’m supposed to say, but I… would have felt bad, if I hadn’t said anything.”

Blaine’s mind buzzed, anger hot in his lungs, despair heavy in his chest. He couldn’t respond, couldn’t think of any words to fill the silence with that wouldn’t be just as hollow as the ones before. Eventually Kenzo touched Minori’s arm, and they bowed before leaving.

Yuki’s hand stayed clenched around Blaine’s arm until they heard the distant sound of the front door closing. Only then did her fingers relax, her hand sliding partway down to his elbow. “Blaine…”

It’s my fault.” The words were like hot lead as he forced them out. “I didn’t take it seriously enough, consider worst case scenarios. I’ll think of something. Look for new funding.”

I can help—”

It’s my responsibility. You go home, sleep.”

I don’t w—”

I’d like to be alone.” His stomach was full of acid, and he finally felt his hunger. He didn’t eat anything the night before, or this morning… “Please.”

She was silent, all except her breathing. Shallow. Uneven. He didn’t look at her, and eventually she squeezed his arm once more, and stood up, and left.

Slowly, he placed his arms on the table. Slowly, he sank his head down, until the acid stopped swirling in his stomach, until the burning fled, leaving only the weight over his heart, twice as heavy each time he thought of Yuki’s hand on his arm, or the way he didn’t even look at her before she left.

Also his fault. Also his responsibility. No one else’s.

He didn’t know how he’d fix anything, yet. But it was the only way he knew to try.


The manor was a ten minute flight from Blaine’s nearest teleport point, and he spent those minutes trying to imagine the confrontation ahead. Who might be there, what they might claim, how he would respond, and whether it would be better for Kiko and Mathew to be with him.

They ride behind him, now, their charizards trailing by enough distance that none of them get territorial about their airspace. They were the two at the gym when the call came who 1) had mounts who could keep up, 2) were senior enough, and 3) were available on short notice. That they happen to ride charizard as well is serendipity, and he’ll take the extra edge it might give them.

Anyone assuming it would be a show of status would be wrong; it’s a show of force, which he hopes won’t be necessary, but is rarely unhelpful in speeding things to their conclusions.

The sun gleams off Kokuyōseki’s dark scales as Blaine angles her into a slow, graceful swoop that brings the manor into sight, and it takes him a moment to recognize what he’s seeing around the manor as… a picnic.

Multiple picnics.

He notes his confusion, and sets aside the burgeoning frustration. He would be rather upset over this all being some misunderstanding that led to a waste of time, but he would also rather that be the case than whatever else might have brought him here…

Sudden movement draws his attention to the north, where a—

“Dragonite,” he says, pressing his earpiece.

—rises abruptly toward them. Kokuyōseki’s challenge roar sends a flood of adrenaline through him, kickstarting his shift to analyzing opening attacks and evasive strategies…

The dragonite roars its challenge back, but also turns to mirror them at a constant distance. Blaine is still processing the sudden shift while his head cranes to look around by trained habit, and he sees the honchkrow flying silently above them.

How long had it been there? Likely long enough to take them by surprise if the dragonite had completed its charge…

“We’ve got a tail,” Kiko says just a few rapid heartbeats after Blaine’s realization, but then she adds, “Kilowattrel.”

Surrounded.

But they’re not being attacked, and when Blaine looks back down at the manor, it’s clear from the way the distant figures scramble toward the building that they’re not all combatants. Which also solves the problem of where to land.

“Kiko, perimeter,” he says. “Mathew, stay high and follow anyone that leaves.”

“On it.”

“Yes s-zzhshhhhh…”

Blaine frowns and taps his ear piece to turn it off, ending the static. As if the dragonite weren’t confirmation enough, jamming comms implies something more serious than a bunch of looters. More organized.

Kokuyōseki eases out of the glide for a gentle landing, her breath coming out in a slow, hot stream that washes over him like a sauna. He clenches his teeth to avoid biting his tongue as she hits the ground in a short lope that tears up some grass and a couple picnic blankets… which, on closer inspection, appear to be tablecloths.

None of the people around the manor have fled farther than it took to create a safe landing zone, and they also haven’t summoned any pokemon. By the time his boots have hit grass, a few are even approaching at a jog.

“Oak.” Confusion mixes with relief as he also recognizes Verres and Juniper, along with Ranger Neasman and the foreign cadet. “Explain.”

Juniper begins to speak. “With all due respect, Leader—”

The young Oak cuts his friend off by raising a hand in front of her, and simply says, “You first.”

Blaine’s eyes narrow, and he removes his flight helmet and exchanges the goggles for his sunglasses before he looks up to where the dragonite is flying a tight circle beneath Kiko’s charizard. He tests his earpiece again, then takes a closer look at those around them.

Men and women, all dressed for mining work, if he interprets the thick, dirt-stained material properly. He doesn’t see any obvious signs of digging, but perhaps within the mansion… “What’s the accusation?”

Oak hesitates, this time, and when Juniper looks at him, he nods, and she steps forward. “Delaying us.”

“Us?” He focuses on the expressions now, the way those around them hold themselves. Not confused, not intimidated. Level, assessing looks.

Not simple contract workers.

His gaze jumps back to Verres, who stands quietly behind, simply watching with those red eyes. The hunter beside him is scanning the skies with eyes hidden behind shades of his own, which Blaine guesses are more than they appear.

Interpol, or…? Blaine turns back to Verres, thoughts lapping around the edges of anything too private by focusing instead on his intent. “Yours?” He points up, where the dragonite and others are still circling.

The teenager shrugs. “Only some.”

Someone new is jogging toward them, coat flapping behind him in the wind, and Blaine shakes his head as the Special Administrator arrives to confirm his guess. “Warrant?”

“In the works,” Looker says, breathing deep. “There’s a lab under this ma—”

“I know.”

Everyone reacts visibly to that, and Blaine frowns. The implication of Interpol being here is obvious; that this is an illegal facility, like the one in Celadon, plausibly harboring renegades. Which means they believe he’s implicated himself, which would be twice as insulting as simply believing him a criminal. “Proof?”

“Forensics are sweeping each—”

“Nothing, then.”

Looker’s lips purse, and he shakes his head. “Still searching.”

Blaine doesn’t try to rein in his disgust, though part of him distantly appreciates the man’s lack of wasting verbiage. “It has approval. I ensured patrols didn’t reveal it.”

“It’s not on any of the manor’s paperwork.”

“Filed as a separate facility.” It was one of the principles he pushed for, upon becoming Leader. That Cinnabar would be a place that facilitated change, rather than feared it. And he would take responsibility for ensuring the safety of everyone on the island.

Looker snorts and sticks his hands in his pocket. “This isn’t a mom-and-pop living above their ramen shop. If you want to challenge our presence here—”

“Legality.”

“Who even sent you?”

“The mayor’s office. Sensors were tripped, sending others risked revealing the facility.”

“Convenient,” Juniper says, drawing Blaine’s attention to her. The youth’s tone is light, though her gaze is not. “For the builders. They keep their secret, and a Leader as free security.”

The implication rankles, and Blaine’s anger almost comes out in wasted words, defending his ego, assuring her that anyone who sent him to be a tool of theirs had badly misjudged him.

His anger also almost comes out in a command for them to leave. He was granted the authority, and by his understanding, Interpol is clearly beyond its remit.

But if they suspect criminality, and the mayor is being used, or if he is…

Whoever invited you here is playing you against us.

Ultimately, responsibility is his.

Blaine glances around them again, then walks to his mount and takes her saddle off before he summons a water trough in front of her. “Rest,” he murmurs, stroking her snout.

Her breath surrounds him in a puff of heat, sweat and wind quickly cooling him back off. He drops the saddle on one of the tablecloths, then starts walking toward the manor. “Follow.”

“Stay sharp, everyone!” Looker calls out to the assembled workers as he keeps stride. He lowers his pitch, head turned behind them. “Were you inviting this lot, too?”

Blaine looks to see the teenagers, rangers, and hunter following as well. “It’s fine.” The lab’s secret is already out, and he has no authority over the two rangers if they were to claim they’re here seeking ditto. As for the others…

He picks a room that’s missing a wall so as to avoid staying in one that would be full of dust, and to allow them the sunshine as light. It was a bedroom once, and some furniture has survived the elements with minimal damage, though everyone remains standing. The foreign cadet, Wendy Burton, stays beside Ranger Neasman and mirrors his posture, while the hunter faces out the open wall. Looker paces around the room, gaze roving as if he’s searching for something with purpose.

Blaine turns back to the three teenagers. Oak meets his gaze, chin held high.

He’d been told that if he wanted to challenge for his badge sooner, the island had to be in better shape. And yet he was spending his time here.

Beside him is Verres, who somehow became the region’s best hope of holding off an organized army of renegades. Also spending his time, and his bodyguards’, here.

And then there’s Juniper, who acts like she knows something he doesn’t. Who the others seemed to be deferring to, in minor ways, even more so than they were Interpol’s Special Administrator.

“Explain,” he says. “Succinctly.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it and looks at Looker, who only spares her a glance before continuing his examination of the room and saying, “Assume the worst.”

Blaine crosses his arms, but holds his tongue and simply gestures for her to get on with it when she looks back at him.

“Okay. So… I met a scientist who told me a story about a secret lab performing unethical biological research to create a powerful new pokemon. When I came here to help find ditto nests… I recognized the manor from his story, and kept exploring until I found a sign of the lab.”

“In custody, or a source?”

“What?”

“Scientist.”

“Oh. A source. He’s… I think he’s on the run, at this point, or… he’s been abducted, maybe.”

Blaine glances at Looker, who has finished his circuit and pulled gloves out of a pocket so he could start rifling through drawers. Blaine wonders briefly if the man is testing him, then returns his attention to Juniper. “Inconvenient.”

“I wouldn’t do all this just for… for a story, or some fame. I know it’s using up a lot of valuable resources, a lot of people’s time, but if the story he told is true, it’s important. And if you’re not in on it, the fact that you know just enough to have helped keep it covered up… Leader, what if the ditto were created here? Wouldn’t you want to know?”

The others give her sharp looks as well. Verres smacks his forehead, and Neasman swears under his breath, while Oak frowns and gives his friend a calculating look.

Blaine does his best to ignore the pageantry, other than to register it as a sign that she doesn’t have reason to believe it. Not that she’s shared with them, at least. “Proof?”

She closes her eyes and takes a breath. “That’s what we’re here for, to find some. If… I’m worried that, now that they know we found it—”

“Enough.”

“—I think we’re against the clock, and if you send us away until the warrant—”

“Leaf,” Oak says, touching her shoulder. “He gets it. You made your point, and he dislikes emotional appeals.”

Blaine is already looking at the rangers. Neasman, who was among the first to face the ditto in the field. Burton, who suggested they search for ditto in ecological balance. “Nests?”

“Not yet,” Ranger Neasman says. “But the lab isn’t fully explored, and some parts might connect to a tunnel network.”

“Obviously.” Blaine studies him. “The first nest you found wasn’t far.”

“Right. That’s why I wanted to check this area in the first place.”

Blaine turns and walks toward the outside, gazing up to spot his people as they fly above and around. If they’re trying to communicate with him, he can’t hear them, and they may not even know he can’t. But they can see him, and they trust him. Each of them has a responsibility, and they can see to them, follow them well.

“Oak,” he says without turning around. “Lesson one.”

The teenager’s voice comes clear, confident. “You do not control fire. You take responsibility for it. Your pokemon, their attacks, what their attacks hit, what is around them, what else might get spread to. All of it is your responsibility. Others can teach you. Others can help you, if you make a mistake. But you own all the consequences, every time. If someone teaches you poorly, you can still learn from others. If others help you, it does not remove your responsibility. In this gym, that is your only responsibility. Learn well. Practice carefully. Fight confidently.”

“Well said.” Blaine turns back to the room, everyone’s attention is on him. Looker has stopped his endless searching, and the hunter keeps his attention outside. As it should be.

“Outside my gym, people take many responsibilities. You cannot fully commit to more than one. Splitting your responsibility evenly is worse than prioritizing. And I learned long ago that you cannot take more responsibility for something than you have power over. The two must remain proportional, or you will stumble.”

Verres blinks, then stands a little straighter. Juniper is watching him warily.

“I know what my responsibility is. I attend to it as best I can. I learned to ask for help over the years. I had to, to become an effective Leader. But I never stopped believing that I am the last one to decide, and live with those decisions, for all that I do and claim to care for.” He looks around at each of them. “You’re asking me to trust your sense of how severely this matters, and become complicit in whatever you do. In return, I ask you all now, each of you. Do you know what your responsibility is? Can you tell me, honestly, that you are serving it, here and now? Or is there some greater commitment that is worth the potential risks and sacrifices you’re making, by staying now that the situation has changed from what you hoped for?”

Looker is far enough from the others that they can likely tell he’s watching the Special Administrator first. The man has his hands in his pockets, face blank as he returns the stare.

Fair enough.

He looks to Juniper next, whose wariness has mixed with something else. Alarm? Guilt? He can’t tell, but he understands what might be part of it. The worry that Blaine is corrupt, and stripping them from the scene with more than fiat authority. By manipulation, by emotionally turning them from their resolve.

Words don’t even come to mind by which he might try to convince her otherwise. No words he says otherwise should convince her. He can only be forthright, and let their own integrity reveal itself.

She begins to look particularly uncomfortable with his stare, and he almost looks away when—

“There is for me.”

Oak has stepped forward, as Blaine hoped he would. The young challenger turns to the rest of them. “I’m only here because I think it’s important. But I trust you guys, at least one of you, to make sure it’s looked into properly. I need to focus on the region… or at least, the portion of it I currently have power to affect. And right now that means making sure Cinnabar is stable.”

“Me, too,” Burton says, only briefly glancing at Neasman. “I need to focus on the ditto nest we found. I’m just here because… well. It’s exciting, isn’t it? And has huge implications. But I don’t really add anything unique.”

Ranger Neasman sighs, then looks between everyone. “I can trust one of you to keep CoRRNet in the loop, when it’s appropriate?”

Looker nods. “You have my word.”

“And mine,” Blaine says.

“Alright. We’re off, then. Good luck, to the rest of you.”

They leave, and Oak begins to as well. He stops when Leaf raises a hand.

“Blue,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry, if I—”

“You didn’t.” He smiles at her. “It was on me, and I’m still glad you included me.”

There’s a sharpness in Blaine’s stomach, watching the ease with which the young Oak takes responsibility and reassures his friend at the same time. He understands. It wasn’t just knowing to recite the right words, and knowing that stepping forward would earn him favor. He understands, and he has the ability to show his care, at the same time. To smile, and leave his friend smiling.

For a moment, Blaine feels old, his heart heavy.

And then he straightens. Later. For now, this.

“I think… I should go too,” Verres says, before Oak starts walking again. “Now that Looker is here, I’m kind of superfluous. And… I’m worried they might try something somewhere.”

Looker nods. “It’s been on my mind. It’s what I would do; commit to a series of attacks, draw everyone’s attention elsewhere.”

“I should get some rest, let Jensen and the others rest too, then continue my training. Make sure we’re all ready.” He turns to Juniper. “Sorry—”

She shakes her head, and keeps her chin high. “No, you’re right. You got them to come, got Looker here. It’s enough.” She suddenly steps forward and hugs him. “Thank you.”

He hugs her back. “I’ll be back in a thought, if something happens.”

Blaine’s gaze rises to Looker again, and he can see the mask peeling, at the edges. The indecision, rather than being reassured by Verres’s departing, has only grown, as he feels his own contrasting responsibility all the keener.

Oak and Verres leave together, and the hunter goes with them. Now it’s just the three, standing in a loose triangle, Blaine at the furthest point.

Juniper’s hands are fists. Her shoulders unbent. She meets his gaze through his sunglasses. Defiant, or sure?

“Juniper.”

She turns, prepared.

Looker sighs. “I don’t trust people. I don’t trust you. But I trust that if you pull something, it won’t be in their direction. And that you know there’ll be consequences. We understand each other?”

The young woman nods. “We do. Thank you.”

“Don’t fucking thank me, Arceus’s sake, kid. I’m giving you a job and I’m not paying you except, maybe, in respect. You get to the bottom of this thing, and you tell me first. Not Mrs. Verres, not your friends, not even your mom in Unova. Or else you go it alone. That’s fine too, if that’s what’s in your,” he flicks a glance at Blaine. “Responsibility. Is it?”

“It is.”

“I figured. Then this is option two. Non-negotiable, take it or leave it.”

Juniper swallows. “I’ll take it.”

“Right. Reach out if you need something.”

He starts to leave, pausing at the broken wall beside Blaine. “Now’s the part where you either kick my men out until the warrant shows up, or I tell them to keep working.”

“Your men can stay. I’ll take responsibility.” As he must for everything on Cinnabar.

Juniper seems to sway, for a moment, but the Special Administrator just nods. “I’ll have a talk with your mayor about this whole secret lab registration thing later. Or maybe Tsunemori will, eventually.”

Blaine just nods, and then it’s just the two of them.

“What will you do?” Juniper asks. She’s recovered herself, but there’s still uncertainty, there.

“I’m going to get to the bottom of whatever happened on my island.” Blaine watches her for a moment, then another. He would like to say he’s contemplating something, examining pros and cons.

But in truth, he’s just uncertain.

The heaviness is still on his heart, now and then. He and Yuki parted ways, eventually. Amicably. He was, ultimately, able to get funding for his startup… but he burnt himself out, doing so. He knew he had to give leadership of it to her, keeping only his shares. They’ve done quite well over the years. She’s done well. They still talk, now and then.

But the weight persists, if lesser than it once was. It was a young Leader Giovanni who eventually gave him the funding he needed. A man who spoke with both brevity and eloquence, and who holds a very similar philosophy to his own. Nihil supernum, he said on one of a handful of nights spent sharing a meal and sparse but meaningful conversation. I’ve always found myself at my best when I reminded myself that if I fail, nothing greater could be relied on.

Giovanni. The man who helped him see, by example, how he’d neglected his ability to work with others well, even if he had to find his own way to stay true to himself. The man who eventually convinced him to pursue Leadership of his own, helped him realize that his style of leadership was better suited to a Gym than a lab or company. And the man who helped him realize how a single company, whatever its contributions, would be unlikely to accomplish as much as a whole island more amenable to easy innovation.

But it would be a mistake to believe everyone took their responsibility as seriously as he did, even as a young man in charge of a small company. And worse, if those who created this lab weren’t negligent, if they were duplicitous in some way, or even criminal…

The weight is still on his heart, but… it is lesser. And it still, with its occasional presence, helps him go slower. Reassess. Error correct.

“Would you care to help?”

121: Precedes

Chapter 121: Precedes

Blaine’s gym is nestled in the volcanic mountain that dominates Cinnabar’s skyline, facing the city so that it’s easy to see from anywhere in it. The roads there wind back and forth across the mountain’s base, and cablecars leave from various skyscrapers every five minutes, constantly shuttling people back and forth to the different facilities, including a small pokemart, two dorms, a trainer house, and a dedicated pokecenter separate from the smaller ones in various buildings.

But the quickest way to get there, outside of teleporting, is to fly, and most trainers who come to Cinnabar have at least one pokemon big enough to carry them up to the gym. Blue watches from Zephyr’s back as the white splotches in the mountain face resolve into individual structures, each with multiple roads and walkways crisscrossing between them.

It’s been nearly a week since they found the mansion, and so far they’re still in “holding mode.” Red said Looker put a team on it, but they’re moving so… damn… slow. Apparently they’re still on the research and planning phase, only recently having sent someone to survey the area and figure out the safest way to get into the ruins of the lab.

Blue understands that time is on their side, so long as they move carefully and don’t tip their hand. But that’s only true if the people who ran the lab aren’t off somewhere creating more hybrids, or if there’s no reason for them to worry about the hybrid itself… which he’s not betting on.

Meanwhile they’ve continued canvassing the island for ditto nests, and finally found one small enough to tag and monitor, after having to wipe out a few nests too big to safely leave. On the plus side, they each managed to catch a ditto of their own, which might be useful if they ever end up trainable.

Blue was also surprised by how deftly Leaf used her new magmar against the ditto nests, given how averse she’s been to using lethal pokemon in battles. The first time, with the smell of burning purple goo filling the grotto they found them in, she hurried out and tore off her mask to start heaving into some bushes, which left Blue feeling mildly useless. He just awkwardly stood there, patting her back and saying some vaguely encouraging things until Wendy took over.

Leaf said she was alright, after, and though she looked a bit sickly for the rest of the day, insisted she would be back to search for more nests the next. Which she did, and seemed a bit better off, though that might have been helped by the rapidash she caught. Blue half expects she mostly wanted to return to keep an eye on the mansion, but he respects the hell out of her grit either way, and said as much.

Both she and Red have changed so much from when they started this journey. But he still feels a gnawing in his stomach when he thinks of what they said about the hybrid, and finds himself wishing again that it turns out to be a piece of fiction after all.

Now is a bad time for another civilization-ending threat to pop up. And sure, Blue might have said the same the last few times that happened, but that doesn’t make it less true.

The bottom line is that the closer he is to Champion, the closer he’ll be to having power to root out any rot in the League.

And he’d definitely prefer not having to potentially confront Blaine about the lab on his island while he still needs to get Cinnabar’s badge.

Blue lands on one of the jutting rooftops, then dismounts and jogs to catch an elevator called by someone who just teleported in. The woman steps off at one of the training rooms, but Blue keeps going down to the bottom floor the elevator will reach, then takes the stairs down another level.

Blaine isn’t a Leader who spends much time in his Gym, let alone his office. Normally if Blue wants a private talk he has to content himself with calls, which always feel limiting… particularly since the Leader doesn’t even tend to use video. The lack of tone or body language makes Blaine’s already blunt way of speaking feel… valueless. Blue didn’t realize how much info he got from just talking to people, even if things didn’t go his way.

Which means if he wants to even try to, he has to keep an eye on Blaine’s schedule and intercept him in the brief times where he’s moving between things. Thankfully, Blaine’s Third has become something like a friend, and is willing to share things like the Leader’s schedule so long as Blue doesn’t make himself a nuisance.

A new training wing is being built, and Blaine is supposed to be meeting with the builders to make some adjustments to their blueprints. Blue arrives six minutes before the meeting is supposed to end, and paces the hall in front of the closed off section of the gym, checking messages and drafting a status update summarizing his day.

Each new level of fame Blue has risen to makes him feel the pressure to share more about his life more often. He noticed it early on, how good it felt getting the influx of validation, thousands of pluses and hearts and hundreds of supportive comments, each a shot of extra confidence and reassurance that he has people in his corner. People who like him, and who, if he needs them, might respond to a call for action.

It’s more than enough to make up for the negative comments that come up no matter what he says, but something did change after Miracle Eye. The conspiracy theorists got a little louder, or more focused, or something. Once in a while some belligerent questions will get thrown at him concerning people or events he’s never even heard of, his lack of answer taken as a sign of guilt. He learned not to engage with that stuff, but he still skims them on occasion, just to get some sense of what people are saying about him.

More usefully, it can be helpful to avoid saying something that gives them more ammunition, though his assistant helps with that too; along with filtering his incoming messages, he forwards everything he might post first so she can let him know if he’s about to stick his foot in his mouth by saying something really dumb, or piss off some group or the other that’s not tracking.

He’s not going to mention anything about the mansion, of course, but he wants to say something that works as a temperature check, or sets the stage for more specific comments about pokemon experimentation. He feels like there’s a line between the unown research and what the secret lab did to create the hybrid, if they did… and if people are reading Leaf’s story and getting sympathy for something that dangerous, he’s already behind on setting a more sane narrative.

He’ll have to talk to Leaf about it, sooner or later. Maybe after he has some spare time to actually read her story.

The door opens, and Blue looks up from his phone to see Blaine striding out, white coat billowing behind him. “Leader,” Blue nods, putting his phone away as he turns to walk with the man.

“What do you want?” Blaine asks as heads for the stairs. Blue does his best, as always, not to read too much into his impatience, since that’s the Leader’s default mode as far as Blue can tell.

Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s not impatient, or even that he’s not impatient with Blue in particular. But he’s also not necessarily feeling hostility toward Blue just because he’s not slowing down at all. Despite the occasional ways it’s thrown off his balance and reflexes, Blue is quite pleased with how much he’s been growing over the past few months, but he still has to nearly jog to keep up with the tall leader as Blaine strides down the halls.

“I’m ready for my challenge match.”

“What changed?”

“I think I’ve 80/20’d my impact here, and—”

“Is this a test? You want to see if I really will slap the Erika out of you?”

“No.” That threat, delivered after Blue’s first private meeting with Blaine, had him immediately try cutting his sentences down to get as short and to the point as the Leader himself was when he spoke. It was a rebuke he should have anticipated, but he thought he’d adapted quickly and well, particularly given how much he, in principle, appreciates this way of talking too.

“Then stop dancing and get to the point.”

Blue doesn’t bother asking him why Blaine thinks he’s “dancing,” since it’s true enough. “Something came up and I need to shorten my timelines.”

“Something?”

“Not saying more.”

“Denied.”

Can’t say more.”

“Still denied. MAS.”

Minimizing attack surfaces. Blue should have seen that coming; part of the reason Blaine is the way he is can be chalked up to just his personality, but another part is a deliberate effort to reduce people’s ability to persuade, cajole, or otherwise manipulate him… to keep people from even trying, as that would waste their time and his.

The frustrating thing is Blue isn’t even sure if this qualifies. He’s not trying to manipulate Blaine, he thinks, but he’s also not able to divulge everything he knows… which maybe means he is trying to be persuasive, which Blaine dislikes almost as much as being manipulated. Either way, he hoped his efforts in Cinnabar might have earned him a little trust.

He doesn’t say that, of course, since that would be an obvious effort to persuade. He recalls what Blaine told him early on about “how communication should go”: just the facts. He can share information, he can request information to narrow down what Blaine might benefit from knowing, but he can’t directly try to change how Blaine feels about anything.

“What if I don’t want to jump the line, just get back in it?” Blue asks as they start up the stairs.

“Your choice, but you’ve seen the state this island’s in.”

Blue has, and Blaine has never been shy about his priorities. Leaders like Sabrina and Giovanni often have occasional backlogs of challengers to get through, but Blaine gets so many fewer challengers that it’s not usually an issue when he focuses on some island emergency over dispensing badges.

He wants to argue that he’s done more than nearly any other gym member to help get things back on track, but he knows that’s leaning back toward emotional persuasion instead of sharing new information. “Got no intention of leaving it this way. Teleportation means I can be in Viridian and keep working here at the same time.”

They reach the elevator, and Blue follows Blaine in as the Leader hits the button for the roof. “Giovanni’s mostly hands off, thought you would jump at the chance to shake things up there.”

“I plan to do both. My friends Elaine and Glen are arriving soon, and they can cover trailblazing and organization of the newbies even better than I could.” He’s been getting used to leaving his journey mates behind each time he goes to a new city, to thinking of them more like allies on parallel journeys that occasionally intersect. Used to it, but he never grew to like it. Which may be why it felt deeply gratifying (on some level that he hasn’t had time to think about yet) to see those messages from them.

“People will follow you. Fewer will come here.” Blaine shakes his head. “Let Chase know you’re back on the Challenge list, but you still have to choose to wait here or go get Viridian’s badge and come back.”

Blue grimaces. Blaine is a common 8th badge battle for Kanto trainers, but… “I want Giovanni as my final badge.”

Blaine doesn’t even bother responding to that, which is fair enough. The door opens to reveal the open sky, though the looming volcano cuts off half of it once they step out onto the rectangular roof. Blue follows Blaine toward the edge, past which the city spreads out beyond the slope of the mountain as it continues below toward another building.

“I won’t be at my best, with the thing I mentioned hanging over me,” Blue says. “I’m not trying to—”

“Sure.” Blaine summons his charizard, whose black wings stretch out nearly twice as far as Red’s, and within a minute it’s saddled and he’s lifting himself onto its back. “But you can handle it.”

And with that he flies off, leaving Blue wondering if he’s ever received such a frustrating compliment.

After a minute of enjoying the breeze and playing the conversation back over, thinking of what else he might have said, Blue sighs and heads back inside to meet with Blaine’s Third, who’s waiting in one of the main arenas.

“Yo.” Chase is wearing shorts and a casual T-shirt instead of his gym uniform and lounging against the wall, looking like he just got back from the beach to work on his tan. In reality he’s probably been out in the water all day, diving to check various pokemon nests to monitor signs of ditto spreading via aquatic pokemon, which thankfully there have been no signs of so far. “How’d it go?”

“No dice. Told him to consider me back in line, but—”

“But that means you’re stuck here another month, at least.” Chase shrugs. “Sucks, but can’t say I’m sorry. You’ve done good work here, and battling you is putting me in arm’s reach of beating Sydney.”

“Do you actually want to be Second?” Blue asks as he goes to the PC against the wall and swaps out some of his pokemon. “Also, did you just admit I’m good enough to actually push a gym’s Third closer to a Second?”

“Hey, the lines are fuzzy, you know that. There are others here who can beat me in a straight fight but don’t want the responsibility. As for being Second, though, I could take it or leave it. Syd and I just have a thing going.”

“A thing like what, a rivalry?”

Chase smirks. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

Blue almost pursues it, then decides to let it go as he climbs onto his platform, battle calm descending as he unclips Maturin’s ball. “On three… two… one…”

Chase sends out a ninetales that uses Confuse Ray on Maturin while nimbly dodging her Bubblebeam, and returns with an Energy Ball that requires a quick swap to Soul, then back to Maturin for a Bubblebeam that Chase sends a turtonator in to tank. The turtonator blasts out a Dragon Pulse that shoves its 100 kilo opponent halfway out of the arena before nearly catching Blue’s hastily swapped in Rive with a Solar Beam fakeout.

Blue just barely manages to send Soul back in to take the hit, but the arcanine immediately has to swap back out for Sunny for lack of any way to put a dent in the enemy Fire/Dragon. Unfortunately Chase is happy to capitalize on that with another Dragon Pulse that Sunny would be lucky to survive getting hit by twice, and Blue calls time to check if his houndoom is okay.

It all happened in less than a minute, but quick matches are expected with hyper offensive teams, and it’s a rare Fire type that’s good for anything else. Blue’s battle calm is the only thing that kept him from flinching at the near miss of that Solar Beam… but he has to get used to battles with that sort of attack thrown in, now.

At 7th badge challenges the Leaders start to strip off most of the remaining safety handicaps, and Blaine is likely to try at least one trick that puts one of Blue’s pokemon at serious risk of injury, but Blue’s not worried. Thankfully he’s good enough that he rarely kills any challenger’s pokemon, but either way, Blue has to be ready for that sort of battle before he reaches Giovanni, let alone the League.

Which means he needs to get used to high stakes trainer battles, which feel like almost an entirely different meta. Normally he’d say Maturin, Rive, Bob, and Soul could handle most of what Blaine might throw at him, while still hitting back for at least neutral, since most of the types that would help cover a Fire pokemon’s weaknesses just make it more susceptible to others. But the Cinnabar leader hasn’t held onto his position this long without knowing how to make fire’s weaknesses less relevant than the challenger might hope.

If Blaine brings out something weird like a scovillain, it’ll be up to Zephyr (or the pelipper he caught while testing nests along a cliff for ditto) to take it out, while Sunny and his new poliwrath would be useful closers if Blaine throws a curveball and tries some weird defensive strategy… but both might be harder to rely on if the format is more limited, like a 3v3, and Blue expects some hard and fast attacks that bring his pokemon down despite resistances, like Overheat, and a strategic Burn Up could knock out one of Blue’s pokemon and remove Blaine’s weaknesses at the same time.

“Okay,” Blue says after healing Sunny up. “Let’s go again.”

This time Blue goes all out in his offense, trying to land a quick victory with Rive in a way that manages to take out Chase’s ninetales, but knocks the rhydon out too. Their next match pits Zephyr against Chase’s talonflame, whose Heat Waves cause the air conditioner to power on full blast just to keep the room from sweltering.

Blue almost misses the vibration of his phone as he braces against the whipping winds, and lets his whistle drop from his lips to yell “Stop!” as soon as there’s an opening. Zephyr aborts his dive and flies toward Blue, and when Chase calls his talonflame back Blue checks his messages. “They’re here,” he says, and withdraws his pokemon. “Free to meet?”

“Normally I’d pawn it off on some of my lessers,” Chase says as he tosses his talonflame a treat, then withdraws her and follows him. “But for friends of yours, I can take a personal interest.”

“Appreciate it,” Blue says with a smile.

Chase grins back. “You shouldn’t, I’ll be digging for dirt. Anyone who’s traveled with you has to have some stories of you landing on your ass.”

Blue laughs, and they head to the roof together, stopping along the way at the floor housing the gym’s pokemon center. The sun is just starting to set, painting half the sky in gold and pink as Blue searches the sky for his friends. There are a few trainers flying up from the city, but…

Within a minute he spots the swiftly growing black dots high up in the sky. Elaine lands first, her swellow flapping hard and hopping a couple times to shed momentum from its dive. Blue braces himself against the gusts of wind, which die down just as Glen’s pidgeot lands more gently, and he’s followed by a handful of others from the Saffron gym and dojo.

Blue finishes hugging Elaine in time to greet them all, as well as congratulate those that recently got badges before he introduces everyone to Chase. “Appreciate you all coming out,” the Third says. “Been a while since we had as many spare hands as we needed.”

“More are on the way by ferry,” Glen says with a wink. “Not often that a call goes out for newer trainers, and getting Blaine’s badge as their second or third will make their journey more unique than most.”

“What’s the latest?” Elaine asks “Are lots of nests still getting found?”

“We found one today, actually.” Blue summarizes the encounter, how the nest turned out to be too big to tag and observe the way his group is looking for. “We’ll intro you guys to the rangers and gym members in charge of surveying and putting together squads. Within a couple weeks I expect you guys will be doing your own.”

“Damn,” Chase says as they pile into the elevator. “You’re as much of a taskmaster as Blaine. No wonder you two get along so well.”

Blue raises a brow. “We do?”

“Sure. He hasn’t chucked you off the island yet, has he?”

Elaine laughs. “Has he actually done that? I can never tell what are just stories of the guy, and what’s real.”

“He hasn’t physically thrown anyone out of Cinnabar, or even the gym, but he’s told people to leave and come back when they get their head out of their ass or learn to stop wasting his time or whatever.”

“Nice job, Blue,” Elaine says.

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you getting better at this whole taking-over-gyms thing,” Glen adds.

“Hang on,” Blue says. “I’ve never made a previous Leader mad at me.”

Elaine taps her chin. “Didn’t Surge start out thinking you were an egotistical upstart?”

“Oh yeah,” Chase says while Blue rolls his eyes. “That’s the good insider goss. Gimme more.”

The rest of the day passes quickly, with Blue and Chase giving the group a tour while introducing them to the others they’ll be working with. After they break for dinner, Chase says goodbye, and Blue invites Glen and Elaine to his room while the others head down to the city to meet the newer trainers.

As soon as the door is closed, they both turn expectantly to him. “So,” Elaine says. “What have you gotten us into now?”

She’s smiling, but Blue raises his hands, palms out. “Exactly what it looks like. The gym needs help filling holes the rangers are leaving.”

“But.” Glen’s arms are crossed, but he’s smiling too.

Blue wants to smile back. He can’t quite bring himself to. “I can’t tell you yet. But, yeah, there are things going on that might draw me into another mess.”

“Another renegade mess,” Glen says, not a question, and he’s not smiling anymore.

Neither is Elaine, but they don’t look scared either. “Blue, we’re here. I know you can’t count on us the way you do Red and Leaf—”

“That’s not true.” Blue’s heart is pounding, and he tries to take a breath, tries to summon his battle calm… but this isn’t a battle. These are his friends, and his allies, and… “I called you guys because I can rely on you. In different ways.”

“What do you need us to do?” Glen asks, voice soft. “I won’t lie and say I want to fight renegades again. I don’t. But it sucked, finding out you were fighting them at Silph and not being able to help—”

Blue doesn’t wince, doesn’t let any of his remembered conflict about calling Glen show on his face.

“—and if that happens again, I don’t plan to just stand back and watch if I see an opportunity.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Blue mutters.

“To what?” Elaine asks. “Be there, or stay back?”

“Both. Either. But I might not be able to warn you, if that sort of thing is coming. What I need you guys to do is get this island back to its pre-ditto threat rating.”

“So you can get your badge faster.” There’s no accusation or bitterness in Glen’s voice, which some part of Blue did worry about. He also worries about Glen saying more, saying So you can leave us behind again. But instead the older boy just nods, as if expecting a couple mid-journey trainers and their friends to tip scales that already have dozens of rangers and gym members on one side is an obvious thing to do. “Because things got even more serious than before.”

“Yeah. That’s the basic idea.” Blue runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll go for Viridian first if I have to, but wrapping things up here… it’s not just the badge anymore. And I can’t do that stuff and prep for Giovanni and keep training for Blaine. I need some of this stuff off my plate.”

“We’re here,” Elaine says again, voice soft. “But if there is anything else we can do…”

Blue looks at them, staring steadily back at him, and feels himself weighing risk and possibility, hope and dread stirring in his chest as he finally lets himself think of the stuff thats been hovering around his thoughts since that day at the mansion.

Of what a crew of loyal, discreet trainers and gym members on the island could do, with the right instructions.

“There might be something. Might not turn anything up, but while you’re spending time with the locals and getting to know them, there are some things it would be helpful to watch out for… and some questions to ask, if you’re careful about how…”


Indigo’s interpol base feels like it’s something different every day. Some days are sleepy, with a handful of agents in the building working quietly at their computers. Some days are like a kicked combee hive, people rushing every which way and yelling orders and information at each other in response to some new event. Sometimes entire wings of cubicles get split apart, shifted to another area, or restructured under a new task force.

Red never had his own task force before. Or rather, he’s been part of multiple before, one could even say all of them to some degree… though that’s not true, there were some more secretive than others, in buildings he hasn’t visited. But he’s never had one with people in it that answered to him, or at least halfway did. In a way, it’s a little like he imagined being a pokemon professor might feel…

…if on a totally different set of topics than any professor would normally be focused on.

“So how likely is Rocket to make the same breakthrough?” Red asks. “Being able to store any amount of mass—”

“Not any amount,” Mink quickly corrects. The Silph-pokeball-engineer-turned-interpol-technician is leaning back in his chair, feet up on his desk as he spins his headset around his wrist. “That would be absurd. But an order of magnitude further than a heavyball is what we aimed for, and we got pretty close. As for them replicating it… hard to tell without knowing who they’ve got working for them. Theoretical physicists who can push poketech aren’t exactly growing on trees.”

“Physicists, specifically?”

“Sure. Ever wonder what the hardest part of pokeball tech is, even back when they were big as grapefruits?”

Red has, from time to time, but he never really researched it. “Digital training translating to physical changes in the reconstituted mind?”

“You’re thinking too modern. Think about it; you’re designing the very first tech that can convert mass to energy. What goes wrong?”

Red blinks, wondering if this is a trick question. “Uh. You can’t convert it back?”

“That’s what everyone thinks.” Mink says. “And don’t get me wrong, solving that was pretty, you know, central to the whole concept. But the real headache was not letting the mass carry over once it’s energy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean energy still has mass.” Mink waves a hand at the desk. “Take all the atoms that make this desk up and turn it into light, and it’ll still weigh what a desk weighs.”

“Wait, really? Then how does—”

“Verres!” Looker’s voice, sounding either urgent or annoyed. Or both.

“Later,” Mink says with a wave as Red jumps to his feet and heads through the cubicle forest toward the shout, wheeling his office chair behind him. Looker is standing at the front of “Red’s” cluster, arms crossed.

“Verres, when were you going to tell me you’ve got a team of people excavating on Cinnabar?”

“I uh, told you last week?” Red shoves his chair into his own cubicle so that it rolls beside his desk as he continues to walk toward Looker. “During the morning meeting.”

The Special Administrator frowns, then closes his eyes a moment, lids flickering… “You asked permission to requisition more agents for…” Looker sighs and opens his eyes. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Digging into the lab, you said.”

“Right,” Red says, baffled. “What did you think I meant?”

Metaphorical digging, Verres!”

“Ah.” He knows he shouldn’t, but Red grins at his irate boss, already imagining Leaf’s reaction when she hears. “Well that’s an understandable, one might even say com—”

“Do you have any idea what Blaine will do if he finds out about this?”

“Well, I thought about asking, but once you said it was fine I sort of figured it’d be… fine?” Red’s heart sinks as Looker rubs his eyes. How big did he mess up, exactly? “Is it that bad?”

“We’ll see. Meanwhile, you have a visitor.”

Red blinks. Here? He follows Looker away from the cubicles and past another cluster before he sees…

…Director General Tsunemori. Red smiles, an upwelling of gratitude rushing through him at the sight of the woman who threw him a lifeline the night of the Silph attack.

He doesn’t like to think of that night, of how scared he was, both for himself and for the psychics of the region. But her words, her clear confidence in society, even as she expressed uncertainty… her sincerity was hard not to sense. And once he sensed it, he could experience it himself, feel it in relation to whatever else he was thinking and feeling.

It felt dangerous, in a way. Like potentially lying to himself, ignoring things that might have given him good reason to be afraid in order to retreat into comfort. But it felt genuine enough, and her position unique enough, that he figured she probably had good reason to feel the way she did, and if she was wrong, well, he wasn’t really in a position to do better from the place of dread and panic he did feel at the time.

“Hello, Red.” She reaches out a hand, which he squeezes. “I thought I’d come and see what Interpol is doing digging a hole through Cinnabar. Imagine my surprise when I learned it was your idea.”

“I’m sorry, Director—”

She holds up a hand, still gently smiling. “I’m sure you have your reasons. But it would be helpful if I—and the Special Administrator—knew those reasons, before Cinnabar’s Leader or Mayor ask.”

“Right, of course! Should I, uh… start from the beginning, or…?”

“The team has been sending me reports,” Looker admits, voice only slightly grudging. “I obviously didn’t give them my full attention, but Tsunemori will need an overview.”

“I was only told that you had a source that you trust, pointing you to a crime that’s potentially related to renegade activity.” Her brow is raised. “No offense to Interpol, but I decided to check with you directly in case they’re being… overly cautious on your behalf.”

Red appreciates the discretion, but yeah he’s pretty sure it wasn’t for his or Leaf’s benefit. “Right. Well, that’s basically true… but, here… I can share what we found out?” Red sticks a thumb in the direction of his cubicle, and at Looker’s nod he turns and leads the way.

He tries not to feel nervous, and a quick mental glimpse of Tsunemori’s mind shows she’s mostly curious, maybe a little frustrated or exasperated… but also slightly relieved? He files that away to ask about later.

“Here…” Red leads them over to the white board that makes up an entire wall of his cubicle, where he’s got a series of written words circled, squared, and triangle, with lines between them and post-it notes of various colors stuck on. “So, the first team—”

“Who made this?” Tsunemori asks.

“I did.”

Looker squints at him, then the board. “With whose help?”

“My mom’s. I didn’t tell her anything that would be on it, though! Just asked for help putting pieces of evidence together to see what patterns emerged.”

Looker grunts and waves his hand in a “go ahead,” gestured, so Red starts at the top-right corner.

“So the shapes indicate what kind of info it is. Connecting properties are squares, connecting people are triangles, and connecting topics are circles. See, once Murphy and Ichiro finished the initial research they uncovered a ton of potentially connected organizations—”

“I see them.” Most dead end quickly, but the main branch that moves out to unfold over the rest of the board has a green sticky note on it, which Tsunemori points to. “Green means, what, confident?”

“Yeah, and red are basically just wild guesses that we still need to follow up on.” There are a lot of red post-its around the corners of the mass of shapes, particularly in the direction where STAFF is written, though there are some yellows there. “Following up on missing researchers yielded a lot of fruit, and funders got pretty complicated—I still don’t really get why shell companies are legal, but Ben explained that they’re mostly benign and necessary—but the research output is where we really hit it big.”

“Research output,” Tsunemori muses. “You’re saying criminal scientists in secret labs still, what, care about getting their work published in peer reviewed journals?”

“Not exactly; they’d go through intermediaries, labs that could replicate what they’ve already done and present it as original research. When we looked into a few of them and sent some agents out, one broke down before any accusation was made, admitted that they received the idea in a mail package, with no instructions or claims of credit.” Red’s not sure how he feels about that, but the researcher clearly had a guilty conscience.

“What, they’re secret benefactors now?” Looker sounds half skeptical, half disgusted. “Just tossing out free scientific breakthroughs, no strings attached?”

“Some maybe had strings attached? Maybe some richer labs were asked to donate money or something, and didn’t ask questions about where their ideas were coming from. We can’t know how many we didn’t catch, it would take looking into tens of thousands of papers, maybe even pokedex entries, over decades… but once in a while at least, yeah, they seem to have spread their discoveries out so the wider scientific community could learn from them. Probably not all of them, but… it also wasn’t entirely selfless, since there’s no way they could do all the research they might want to on their own.”

“Spread a discovery, reap the benefits of whatever others discover from it.” Tsunemori is watching Red, and there’s an expression on her face that Red can’t quite place. “How are you feeling, Red?”

“Huh?” Red blinks, trying to switch gears. Was he talking too quickly before? “Fine?” As he says it, he realizes… “Good, actually.”

Looker nods. “You’ve picked up in the past couple weeks. Enjoying detective work?”

“I think so.” Red scratches the back of his neck. He thinks it might be more about the feeling of control he now has over stuff. He’s still spending a lot of time training with the hunters, still feels like he’s being molded into something he doesn’t want to be… but the investigation, it’s like solving a puzzle, and… “I feel like I can contribute something unique, here.” Not that his other work isn’t something he’s uniquely suited to… “Not a lot, but—”

“The research angle was your idea,” Tsunemori says. “And you chose to take it upon yourself to make this visualization, and you’re part of a team.”

“That stuff too, yeah. I guess I feel like I have more control over my life.”

“I’m glad. And yes, I’m seeing the connections.” She points to the lines connecting research to the Cinnabar lab. “How solid are these yellow notes?”

“There’s a few people looking into them now. We can’t know what kind of lab Cinnabar was, but if our guesses are right, it’ll lean heavy into biochemistry.” Red still hasn’t told anyone what Leaf suspects the lab was for. They’ll either independently discover it, or they won’t, and maybe for good reason. “Even a few glimpses of broken equipment could tell us a lot, though.”

Looker grunts, then glances at the wall to Red’s right. “That Silph guy, he paying off?”

“It’s hard to tell for sure yet, but he’ll definitely be useful once we get in the lab.”

“The timeline’s off, though. If they were building their own Masterball months ago… ah. You think maybe they leaked the tech to Silph.”

“Or had some deal with them,” Tsunemori murmurs. “Which would explain how they knew it was being built at all.”

Looker shrugs. “I’m the last person who’s going to call any idea paranoid. So, are you satisfied?”

“I am.” Tsunemori nods at Red. “Thank you, and well done. I assume you’re going to want to be part of the team that investigates the lab, once the way is open?”

“Yeah, and… uh, there are some others that should probably be there. They already know about it, and would really help in figuring things out.” Well, mostly Leaf and Blue. Red was impressed by the rangers, but he’s mostly including them because he wants to keep on cooperative terms with them.

“I’ll leave that up to the Special Administrator. My own people will also be joining, regardless.”

“That’s a conversation,” Looker says with a mild frown.

“Well, let’s have it now then.”

Looker grunts, nods, then glances back at Red and wags a finger between them. “You and I, we need to work on our communication. My fault for allowing such a sloppy chain of command, but if this kind of misunderstanding happens again, your boyish innocence isn’t going to protect you.”

“Yes, Sir.” Red is a little heartened by Director Tsunemori’s smile, which offsets Looker’s stern expression. “Sorry again.”

“Mhm.” He leaves, and the director nods once more to him before following.

Red collapses onto his seat, relieved and tired. He sends an update to Leaf and Blue, then checks his messages.

One of the odder quirks of his new position in life is that he had to get a new personal assistant, not to replace his old one, but in addition to her, and not just to manage the new volume of incoming messages but also to filter any that might relate to sensitive topics. But that meant his new one had to be well informed of certain things, which means someone from the local police who generally does this sort of thing for officers of higher rank was assigned to him… which brought his total number of PAs to three, the third of which works for Interpol and is the first screener, dividing everything he gets into two broad piles for the others to sort through in parallel and then send over.

This means he can generally choose what sorts of messages he wants to read and pick the ones that got through those general piles and sorted into more specific ones. Right now he decides on messages from his social connections, and reads a message from one of his old lab mates about new potential developments in how Dragon types are classified, which he forwards to Blue, and some followups from acquaintances in the psychic network he helped form, which continues to go better than he expected.

There are also a few messages from his old peers under Sabrina’s tutelage. Some others have moved on by now, and another two have joined, but most still keep in touch with the occasional well-wish, life update, or question, sometimes posed just to him, other times to the group.

It’s Rowan’s name that catches his attention, and he clicks that email with a feeling of pleasant surprise. He hadn’t heard from Rowan in a while… months, actually…

The message is short. Red blinks as he reads it, then rereads it again, slight smile fading and shifting to a frown as he reads it a third time…

Hello Reds

How are you all?

Is it peace?

Is it war?

How do you keep the peace?

How do you win the war?

We’re wondering which side you’re on

Which side you’ll be on

Which sides you’ll be

On the day

you

meet

me

Red stares at the message another moment, tingles running up his spine as he swallows and checks the message timestamp.

Over a week ago. His pulse, which had started to pick up, starts to slow a little. He would have heard, if something odd had—

Message Sabrina now. Jason too. Everyone.

The thoughts are strong, urgent, and his fingers are moving to type out short queries again and again. Hey, how are you, have you seen Rowan lately? Hi, hope you’re well, just curious if Rowan still comes around? Heya, quick question, have you heard from…

Red finishes messaging everyone he can think of, then goes back to read over the (poem?) again. He wants to respond… but he’s also afraid to.

Why is he afraid to? And is it coming from him, or something his unpartitioned self knows?

No. Nothing concrete. But…

Red nods to himself. But.

The responses trickle in. Fine. Good. Doing great. No. Nah. Not lately. Now that you mention it…

And from Jason, the extra curious: Why do you ask?

Red swallows against the dryness in his throat, and instead of messaging, calls.

“Hey, Jason. Sorry to bother—”

“It’s no bother. I’m still in Saffron, Red, and I can’t remember seeing Rowan here for at least two weeks. Maybe fleetingly, maybe in passing, but he hasn’t attended classes, or taught any as far as I know. What’s happened?”

“Did you…?”

“Worry? Yes, but vaguely, and for months now. I didn’t realize how long it’s been until your message. What happened, Red?”

“Nothing, not really. Just… a weird message.” Red looks at it again, then forwards it. “Sending to you now.”

There’s silence as Jason reads, and then he says, “We should talk to Sabrina.”

“I’ll be there soon.” Red hesitates. “Are we… overreacting? You’ve known him longer than I have, even before I left… he was always a bit—”

“Strange, yes. And I know that’s an unfair label, perhaps, for one of us. But I don’t think we’re overreacting. I just hope it’s nothing serious.”

“Me too. Though I’m not really sure what serious would look like, in this case. Something to do with partitions, obviously, but…”

“But whatever it is, it feels off.”

“Yeah.”

“Except perhaps for Rowan himself, you know more about partitions than anyone else, Red. If this feels off to you, I trust that even more than my own gut, which has felt uneasy about Rowan for a while now.”

“Right. See you soon.”

“See you soon.”

Red ends the call, then straps on his pokebelt and heads for a balcony, gaze drawn to the message again as a fresh chill works through him.

Which sides you’ll be

On the day

you

meet

me

61 – Subverting Expectations (Guest: Jamie Wahls)

Alex and I attended a writing retreat with some other authors in the rationality community, and while there decided to host an impromptu episode on subverting expectations, joined (primarily) by our Nebula nominated friend, Jamie Wahls. All I had to record with was my laptop, so apologies for the sound quality!

Co-hosted by Alexander Wales

With thanks to Tim Yarbrough for the Intro/Outro music, G.A.T.O Must Be Respected

Links:

http://jamiewahls.com