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Boxed [one-shot]

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by S. Lee, Apr 3, 2019.

  1. S. Lee

    S. Lee ~ 빈 ~

    [The following is rated PG for some dark themes]


    The void. Silence. Emptiness and its awful caress. I beg for anything but it. It’s where the real fades, and the static of a back-lit screen submerges us all; deep into an ocean of darkness. Two hundred and forty hours and counting. The game’s clock is still ticking. But here. Here, in the darkness where the switch is flicked off, the screen is flipped down, and the player is gone, I stay. Those two hundred and forty hours may have been counted, but never will I know how many have been stolen from me.


    The sound is all it takes. In an instant I am soaring into position. We all are. Our coding combusting into life and scrambling into formation. It’s a distraught flash mob of panic in the darkness, and those who don’t make it into position risk everything for us all. In an instant we might be found corrupt, deleted, and overwritten with a new save file. We need to make it. I need to make it. The chance of causing a glitch is one thing, but the fear of not being chosen looms over us all.

    My position is second from the left in the first row of Box 12. The wallpaper is cave-themed. I feel it light up in a flash with the in-game text flickering across the screen:

    Harvey booted the PC.”

    He’s never chosen me. Harvey, that is. Why would he? I’m just another Pokédex entry. 201 in the National Pokédex, and 346 in Hoenn. I’m only a number, but not even my number is unique. If I were a legendary or a starter, at least I could be proud, and claim it as my own, but here, here in the depths of a PC, encased between nothing other than slight variations of myself, I am forced to recognize that I am unknown to him. I am unknown to myself. I am Unown. But what’s more, I am one Unown. I am but an Unown.

    Which PC should be accessed?”

    Nickname? No, of course not. Why would he name me anything different from the others? I was caught and forgotten as soon as he had all twenty-eight forms of me. Twenty-eight different Unown, where my only difference is that I resemble the letter “P”. My moves? Useless. My stats? Equally so.

    It’s still there in the back of my mind, echoing like the caves and ruins I was caught in; the subtle touch of something. But, now there is nothing. Hazes of electricity, the mists of coding, and the feeling that no matter how hard I try to touch something real, everything that surrounds me simply isn’t there. Emptiness. Pure and unrelenting. I never knew it more than now.

    Harvey accessed Lanette’s PC.”

    There’s always a chance. We’re being withdrawn more and more recently. I think about it like anybody else. It ticks away inside me, the clock striking harder with each hour, minute, and finally, with every passing second. These seconds eat away at me, chewing in an everlasting motion before grinding the fabrics of hope down.

    Withdraw Pokémon.”

    Sometimes, I’m still grateful. Even in this virtual representation of a virtual representation. Unhatched eggs, clones upon clones made for nothing other than in the hopes of being shiny, and others, some who never even tasted the wild, lay in dozens within these boxes. It’s becoming more and more of us because there are less and less of us. Gone are the days when there was use among us. He’s withdrawn all he needs now. No deposit. No return.

    Continue box operations?”

    And then I see it. It flickers down before my eye like the first showers of spring rain. The space holding me unraveling; a flower uncurling, and opening to bloom and blossom, the game warping and distorting. Its data becoming a wave that pulls back before crashing against the sand, leaving nothing but white foam and a clean file. The void never left, but the silence did. Now there is nothing, and I am, too. I am-


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