[CHAPTER SIX: STRIATON]
Sometimes, things change slowly. Although it had been fifty years since Hilda King had traveled through that very same city, Striaton was still by and large untouched by time. Squat brick buildings lined pin-straight streets with the same dingy window displays for the old, dust-filled delis and bodegas that had been in place for the past half a century. Parks occasionally interrupted the long avenues, and these still had the same rusted equipment and overgrown trees and shrubs that had always been there. Striaton was not a place of change, and for that, Door almost felt comfortable. This was the perfect place to begin one’s trainer’s journey. This, she thought, was what Hilda must have seen all those decades ago.
Or she would have thought that if, for the first part of her journey through Striaton, she wasn’t in a rush. As such, she, Geist, Opal, and Blair breezed right past the delis, past the bodegas, past every half-rotten mural or remotely interesting sight the neighborhood had to offer. The four of them were quiet, save for Opal’s intermittent, cheerful directions. But they were focused, and within the half-hour, they found the brightly lit facade of the nearest pokémon center. Blair went in first, rushing to the desk without a second thought or a thank you. Opal followed suit, chattering about trainer’s licenses and procedures for interacting with a Nurse Joy. That left Geist and Door to wander in awkward silence towards the waiting areas, where they claimed a table for themselves.
Door sat down and let Scout drop to the floor, and it—
he—stood, staring up at her with wide red-and-yellow eyes. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet as she stared back at him. It was odd to think of the thing standing in front of her as a pokémon—or as anything other than a toy, really—but now he had a name and a gender. Jack jumped down to stand next to the patrat and sniff at him cautiously. Other than the obvious differences of species and personality, Door realized she couldn’t tell which was real and which was fake. They both looked perfectly, completely, 100% living and breathing.
And that unsettled her, even if she
had named the patrat.
She slid out of her chair and squatted down, struggling to make herself as small as possible to avoid startling her pokémon. Jack, who was locked in a one-sided conversation with Scout, stopped chattering to swivel his head towards his trainer.
“Uh. Hey, guys,” Door said with an awkward wave. “What’s up?”
Jack reeled back with a smile, his arms opening wide as he barked at Door. Scout, meanwhile, blinked at her lazily.
Rubbing the back of her neck, Door said, “Wow, okay. So … great battle, I guess. Jack … we’ll get you trained up, but that was a great Tackle you did there.”
The oshawott, apparently unaware that this was a backhanded compliment from his trainer, whined and leaned forward. Door reached down and stroked his head, feeling the warmth and roughness of his fur, but as she did so, her eyes fell on Scout, who made no effort to move closer. Rather than approach his trainer, he yawned and curled up right on the floor where he had stood.
“Nice effort too, Scout,” Door muttered. “But maybe we should work on teaching you how to know your own strength.”
Scout growled and half-closed his eyes, and Door squinted, as if trying to determine whether or not that was a good thing by studying the patrat. She slowly reached out with her other hand, inch by inch, until her fingertips grazed his pelt. It felt real—coarse and warm and slick—and Scout reacted to it by lifting his head and blinking again at his trainer. His movements were fluid and almost real, but it was the glint of his gaze, the glassiness of his eyes, that reminded her she wasn’t looking at a flesh-and-blood pokémon.
Yet that was the thing about the fake ones: they weren’t supposed to be distinguishable from real pokémon until one got up close, whereas Companions, as far as she knew, were always something else. An other. And that was the thing, really. Maybe it was because of the Uncanny Valley—that weird notion that the more human a non-human thing was, the more obvious and thus unsettling it became to an actual human being—or maybe it was just something that was only obvious to Door, who knew exactly what to look for, but in her opinion, there was always something
off about them. Something in their movements and in their glassy-eyed expressions that would always separate them from real, live humans.
Fauxkémon, meanwhile, were different. They were designed to be as close to the real deal as possible, to fill that void real pokémon created when they vanished from Unova. And so, everything about them, from the way they looked to their mannerisms, were meant to be identical to their real counterparts. At first glance, anyway. Get closer—get on one’s hands and knees and
study the fauxkémon—and one would see their glass eyes and the mechanical smoothness of their every movement.
With that thought in mind, Door looked up, towards Blair. The girl stood at the front desk, keeping her back to Door and Geist. Nurse Joy had disappeared into the clinic by that point, so Blair had no one to talk to about Wilbur or the battle or anything. No one but Opal. The Companion smiled at Blair and kept her hands on the trainer’s shoulders with what might have been a reassuring grasp—Door couldn’t know for certain—but Blair wasn’t responding to her. Opal needed empathy, not just the ability to give someone sympathy, but how could a machine understand what went on in a human’s head? Door didn’t know, but she
did know that if there
was a Companion out there who could understand what it was like to be human, Opal was most certainly not it, even if her father had given her a personality.
Something pressed against her, and she looked down in time to see Jack nuzzle her side with big, begging eyes. With a snort, she scratched him behind the ears, and in response, the oshawott trilled and pressed himself into her touch. Real. Not real. No matter how close people got to designing pokémon and androids that blurred the line, that line would always be there. This Door was certain of. And now, looking down at an affectionate oshawott and an indifferent patrat, she never felt more certain of that fact.
“It’d be a good idea to talk to her, you know.”
Door jumped and twisted on her knees until she looked up at Geist. He sat with his chin propped up on a hand, his eyebrows raised, and his eyes trained on Door in acute interest. Empathy. No glint. No light behind the eyes. Real. Geist was a far fling from Opal, and for that, Door was relieved.
Yet she also remembered how he reacted when she tried to get Scout hurt to prove a point.
Empathy.
Real.
Door looked away, back to her pokémon. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. “Sorry.”
“Hmm? For what?”
She stopped petting Jack, and with a whine, the oshawott pushed against her hand with his head.
“For being stupid,” she said. “I … I got carried away. When I was about to have Scout battle that wild patrat, I mean. You were right, and I’m sorry for making you angry. And … I’m sorry for arguing with Blair, and I’m sorry about hurting Wilbur in the first place. I was just…” She stood and laced her hands through her orange bangs. “God, you must think I’m a jerk.”
Geist knitted his eyebrows. “Not really. I think you’re a teenager.”
She moved her arm to glare at him. That prompted him to hold up his hands.
“Sorry. That came out wrong,” he said. “What I mean is you’re passionate. You might not always be … well, you might make mistakes. And that’s okay because you’re still learning.”
“You make it sound like you never make mistakes,” she replied. Then, she stopped. “Sorry. I’m not trying to start an argument.”
“No, it’s okay,” Geist said. “I understand what you’re saying. And … that’s not it, really. I can make mistakes too, just like anyone else. But I admire your passion.”
She smirked. “Now you’re making it sound like you’re not passionate.”
“Well! Sometimes.” He tilted his head as a grin broke across his own face. “I’m passionate about my work.”
“Ha! Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more straight-edge.”
Geist chuckled but then looked away. Another awkward silence lapsed in their conversation until he frowned and moved his gaze to the table in front of him.
“Door,” he said. “May I ask you a question?”
“Sure. Why not?”
He studied her with a quizzical look. “Are you actually that concerned about what I think of you?”
“Huh?”
“Well.” He lifted a hand and motioned to her. “You apologized to me. Profusely. But many of the things you’re apologizing for would be better said to Blair, wouldn’t they?”
“Oh.” Door edged back into her seat, much to Jack’s protests. She didn’t say anything more.
Geist crossed his arms on the table and looked at Blair’s back. “Seeing as you’re not going to apologize to her—”
“It’s just not the right time for it,” she said quickly. Then, a little softer, she added, “I mean, I’m the reason why she’s here. It … it doesn’t seem right to start a conversation. She’s probably pissed at me, especially since she’s waited so long for that tepig that she started training with her pet instead.”
“I doubt it,” Geist replied. “You’d be surprised how someone would feel in situations like these.”
“No. Believe me, this would be the exact wrong time for me to go over there.”
Geist looked back at her. Gave her a careful, sympathetic look. And then, he shrugged.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “Just promise me you’ll do it eventually, okay?”
“Of course I will.” Door pressed a hand to her head, worming her fingers between locks of her hair again. “Just … not now.”
“All right.”
Geist pushed his hands into the table and stood. Arching his back to stretch, he yawned and began walking away. Startled by this abrupt shift in their conversation, Door jumped to her feet and strode quickly to catch up with him. She could hear Jack chatter, and as soon as she felt him jump onto her pant leg and climb up to her shoulder, she used a hand to steady him. Scout, meanwhile, remained at her heels, his tiny feet slapping against the polished floor.
“Hey!” Door called to Geist. “Where’re you going?”
Geist cast a nonchalant glance over his shoulder. “Back to Dr. Fennel’s laboratory, of course.”
Door slowed her pace a little, but Geist didn’t. He strode with confidence to the center’s automatic doors, pausing only to let them whir open before him.
“W-wait!” Door said. “Hold up! I’m supposed to escort you, remember?!” She pressed her cheek into her oshawott. “I’ve got the pokémon you need for protection, remember?”
Geist led her outside and onto the street. There were crowds there, clumps of people intermingled with glow-eyed Companions meandering both ways down the sidewalk, but none of them meant anything to Door. All that mattered was that Geist was trying to walk away.
Truth be told, Door couldn’t even figure out why this was so important. Just a day ago, she was looking forward to getting rid of Geist and going back to Nuvema. After all, he was just someone who, through a series of unfortunate events, became the reason why Door was stuck traveling with a fake pokémon and a Companion. But ever since that morning—ever since he snapped at her—she felt as if she had to make it up somehow, as if she had to prove that she wasn’t as bad as he must have thought she was. Perhaps it was just pride; Door
did feel she had a reputation to maintain. Or maybe it was a curiosity born from this stranger—this level-headed, posh, clearly-a-respectable-aide stranger—that made her want to follow him. Or maybe it was just his own charisma. Whatever it was, Door needed to keep him in sight. She needed to finish this mission.
“Hey!” she shouted.
He finally stopped. Turning halfway towards her, he raised his eyebrows at her once more. “You know … Dr. Fennel’s laboratory is just a few blocks from here.”
Trotting up to him, Door gasped a few times to catch her breath. “O-oh?”
Geist nodded. “That’s right. Just down this street. I highly doubt that I’ll run into any interference. You don’t have to accompany me.”
She shook her head. “Nope. Gotta.”
“Very well, then.”
Geist continued down the road, but this time, it was at a slower pace, as if he was deliberately lingering to let Door keep up. Shaking her head for a second time, Door fell into step beside him. It was another block before either of them spoke.
“Are you still pissed at me?” Door asked.
“Why would I be … ah, ‘pissed’?”
With one hand glued to her oshawott, Door lowered herself to pick up Scout. The patrat didn’t resist; in fact, he didn’t seem to notice at all. With a few quick steps, Door caught up with Geist and held up her pokémon.
“Y’know. About the whole ‘tried to make my patrat fight so it can be injured’ thing,” she said.
“Did you learn from that experience?”
“Well, yeah.”
“I hope you did. That’s all,” Geist said.
A flicker of anger rushed through Door, but she bit her tongue—physically bit it to avoid speaking thoughtlessly. As she took a deep breath through her nose, Door did her best to suppress how insulted she felt, and by some miracle, she managed to find her words once more.
“Y-yeah. I did. Don’t worry,” she said.
“In that case,” Geist continued, “I’m curious.”
Door looked up to find Geist staring at her again. This time, his eyes were narrow, and his head was angled slightly. It was an expression of both curiosity and condescension, and for that, Door bit her tongue again.
“W-what?” she asked after a moment of silence.
“You never answered my question,” Geist said. “You seem very keen on making sure I don’t think badly of you. Why? A few minutes from now, we’ll be parting ways.”
Door frowned and looked away, at the ground. “It’s … it’s nothing.”
“Please. I’d like to know.”
Door shifted Scout from one arm to another, just enough to free one of her hands. With this hand, she played with her bangs. “No, I mean it. I don’t know why. I guess I just think you’re cool. I mean, you’re an aide—”
“And you’re not?”
She snorted. “I’m the aide’s aide. I just do the mindless tasks Professor Ironwood or her assistant don’t have time for, like running errands and stuff like that.”
Geist grinned. “That’s pretty important work.”
At that, Door sighed. “If you’re trying to make fun of me, I’d hate to tell you this, but it’s not going to work on someone who agrees that her job sucks.”
Without a word at first, Geist reached for Scout. Door let Geist scoop the patrat out of her grasp, and she watched him nestle Scout in the crook of his arm and pet the meerkat with his other hand. It was odd to see Geist treat the creature like a real pokémon, and much to Door’s surprise, Scout responded like one, with his eyes closing slightly as his paws stretched and batted at the air above Geist’s hand.
Then Geist turned away from her, blocking the patrat from view.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to make fun of you,” he said. “I’m saying, quite simply, that your job is just as important as any other in the laboratory. Even doing the most menial of tasks allows the rest of the team to function. For example, how well do you think Professor Ironwood would work if she didn’t have her morning coffee?”
Door guffawed in response, but Geist raised his eyebrows at her.
“I’m serious,” he said lightly. “I don’t know about Professor Ironwood, but Dr. Fennel is positively scatterbrained in the morning without at least one cup in her.”
“Really?” Door asked with a snort.
“Oh yes.” He grinned knowingly at her. “Don’t tell her I said that, of course, but you should see her after she stays up all night.”
“Wow. Okay, I’m going to take your word for it.” Then, letting her smirk fade, she said, “But you get why I’m a little envious, right?”
Geist pursed his lips and continued down the street. “Not really, no.”
Wrapping her hand back around Jack’s middle, Door jogged forward to catch up with him. Once she did, she sighed heavily and replied, “I want to be a researcher someday. A real one. Someone who goes to different regions and studies real pokémon.”
“The process to become a researcher like that tends to take years.”
“I know. But I just don’t feel like I’ll get anywhere if all I’m doing is making coffee and doing little things.”
Geist smirked. “You underestimate the value of the little things.”
Door tipped her cheek against Jack to hold him steady as she threw her free hand in the air. Her otter squeaked in protest, seemingly indifferent to his owner’s exasperation.
“C’mon, Geist,” Door said. “Don’t drag me into some kind of circular argument. All I’m saying is I want some time with pokémon, you know? Real ones, not fake ones. I want to see what they’re like.”
“Good thing you’re keeping Jack, then,” he said.
At once, Door paused. After a moment, she twisted her head awkwardly to look at the oshawott, to which he responded by butting his nose against the bridge of hers. Wincing, she frowned at Geist.
“Whoa. Wait,” she said. “You were serious about that?”
“Of course. As Professor Ironwood said, Jack is attached to you. It wouldn’t be good to separate a young pokémon from a trainer he’s already bonded with.”
As if to punctuate this, Jack barked and nuzzled his trainer’s cheek. Door petted him carefully, still keeping her eyes on his tiny frame as best as she could. This was her pokémon. Hers. And it was real. The weight of that information had not fully sunken in by that time, but it was starting to. Hers. Her pokémon. Her real pokémon. She turned those words over and over again in her head as she walked forward again.
“Hey,” she said. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” he replied. “You’ll be spending a lot of time with Jack and Scout. I hope you’ll get to know them both very well.”
Carefully, he set Scout on Door’s other shoulder, then gently took her hand and rested it on the back of the patrat. Scout seemed to mimic Jack, rubbing against Door’s other cheek. She shuddered and swallowed but said nothing as she stared into Geist’s grin. Yet no matter how much she resisted feeling any level of horror, the thought crept back into her head. This wasn’t a real pokémon, yet it felt so much like one.
Geist did not stride forward, as Door had expected, but instead stepped to the side. Looking up, Door realized why. They had stopped in front of a set of wrought-iron gates, behind which sat a four-story, red-brick building looming over a small garden. The building looked nearly unremarkable to Door, had it not been for the courtyard. She had even mistaken it for an ordinary apartment high-rise until that moment, but now, as Geist approached the call box set in the iron fence, Door could see a host of tiny, green heads poking out of the flowers in the garden beyond the gates. Pokémon. Lots of them. Mostly grass-types like petilil and sewaddle, but there were others too, such as venipede and purrloin. Door stared through the bars at the plethora of pokémon, watching them run through the flowers or splash in the concrete pool that took up the center of the courtyard. At first, she thought these might be real, but with a shake of her head, she reminded herself that none of these pokémon existed anymore in Unova. They were fake. They had to be.
“Dr. Fennel?” Geist said. Door looked back to see him stooping down, placing his face as close to the intercom as possible. “Sorry it took me so long. I’m here with the escort from Professor Ironwood.”
The speaker crackled, and an older, female voice floated from it. “Ah! Geist! I was beginning to worry you were attacked again! Please, come in!”
As soon as the intercom fell silent, the gates whirred and creaked open slowly, and Geist motioned for Door to follow him, which she did without question. Her eyes remained on the pokémon, even as the gates closed shut with a loud clang behind her. She squinted, staring first at the petilil darting around the flower beds and then at the pidove flitting into the fountain.
Eventually, she shifted her attention back to Geist. Something wasn’t right about this place or those pokémon, but she just couldn’t put her finger on what.
“Geist?” she said.
“Yes, Door?”
“You never told me what Dr. Fennel studied.”
“Ah.”
Geist stopped at the door, whirling around as he placed one hand on it. The other gestured dramatically in the air. All of this was in preparation for a perfect recitation, as if he had been waiting for Door to ask for quite some time.
“Dr. Amanita Fennel, younger sister of retired poké-oneirologist Dr. Plutea Fennel,” he said. “The current Dr. Fennel is best known as both the regional administrator for the pokémon storage system and one of the most talented minds in the field of pokémon-related technology, but she has also made a name for herself in select circles for continuing her sister’s work. In short, among other things, my employer is engaged in the scientific study of pokémon dreams.”
Door put her hands on her hips. “Must be a tough field. Robots don’t dream.”
“I was told they dream of electric sheep.”
“What?”
Geist snickered and winked. “A joke. In all seriousness, the Doctors Fennel have always had plenty of subjects.”
Door raised her eyebrows, her eyes widening slowly. “Really? She’s got real pokémon?”
“Of course.”
Geist opened his eyes fully and flicked them to the garden. With only a nod, he said everything he needed to say, but it took a second for his message to sink into Door’s mind. When it did, she gradually looked over her shoulder.
Right at the frolicking pokémon.
“No way,” she breathed.
Geist opened the door and replied, “Way. Why do you think we had a spare set of starters to give to Professor Ironwood?”
Door’s heart leapt.
Spare set of starters. She could feel her heart pounding, her blood rushing to her head and fingers as she turned towards the open lab. There had to be more inside. There had to be a plethora of pokémon she had never seen in the flesh, right beyond that door. So with an excited smile, she looked up at Geist.
“Are there…?” Her voice trailed off. Suddenly, she couldn’t find the words to form her question.
But somehow, Geist knew. He stood aside and swept his arm towards the doorway. “See for yourself.”
Door didn’t need to be told twice. Without a second thought, without another word to Geist, she rushed past him, to the inside of the laboratory.
She took only two steps into the brightly lit interior before a purple blur shot at her. Instinctively, she yelped and stumbled backwards, flinging her arm out.
“Scout!” she shouted.
The patrat leapt off her shoulder and rammed into the purple blur, and as they tumbled to the ground, Door realized the blur was another purrloin. She could see it—hissing and digging its claws into the floor as Scout lifted himself off its back. Door swallowed hard and stared at it, watching it bare its teeth at her patrat, and the sight of its expression made Door freeze. If the pokémon outside of the laboratory were real, then this one had to be too. And as Door’s mind flitted back to Blair’s tepig, she realized one important thing: she had to be careful this time around. Hold back. Avoid hurting her target.
“Okay, Scout,” she said. “Tackle!”
Scout leapt the moment Door said that word. He threw his body at the cat, rushing it just as it lashed out with its front paws. Although the purrloin’s claws raked Scout’s shoulder, the purrloin’s Scratch didn’t stop the patrat from slamming into the cat’s stomach, and with that, it tumbled head-over-tail into a metal cabinet nearby. Scout shuffled to a stop and snorted with triumph until a green blur smashed into him and pinned him to the ground.
Suddenly, Door’s breath caught in her throat, and she could feel her heart thunder against her ribs. There, standing on top of her patrat, just a few feet away from her, was a snivy. A snivy that glared down at its prey, twitching every so often to counter Scout’s struggling. A snivy whose eyes were wet and glistened in a way that seemed too lifelike to be glass. A snivy that Door knew had to be real.
“H-ho man.” She breathed in. “Okay. You can do this. Scout! Break out and tackle!”
The patrat rolled, pushing the snivy off of him, but the reptile mimicked his movements and shoved back. For a few seconds, the two tumbled in opposite directions until they stood, claws out and low growls rumbling from their throats. Then, the snivy launched itself at Scout, and before Scout could react, the patrat was ripped off his feet and sent flying backwards into a desk on the opposite side of the room. The desk shook the moment he struck its edge, and as he fell to the tiled floor, tools and a handful of screws rolled off its surface and rained down on him. He chattered as his paws grabbed at his tiny head, his orders completely forgotten.
“Don’t let it out-muscle you!” she shouted. “Try again! Tackle!”
Grinding his back paws into the floor, Scout shot at the snivy in a mirror of its last assault. In response, the lizard hissed and dodged, sidestepping the patrat just seconds before impact. Scout slammed into the floor before rising again and dashing after its target, but the snivy leapt out of the way and landed a foot from where it started, forcing its opponent to tumble into the legs of a table instead.
Door’s hands tightened into fists at the sight of her pokémon’s second failed attempt. She knew the snivy was too quick for Scout, and because of that, she realized she had to slow it down. But how? As she watched her pokémon dash after the snivy again and again, she saw no option, no opening that the snivy left behind, and once she realized this, Door gritted her teeth and struggled to come up with a solution.
That was when a pair of hands rested on her shoulders. She jumped and half-turned away from the battle just as Geist leaned over her.
“Relax,” he said. “A pokémon is only as good as its trainer—a faux one especially. Watch the battle. Take note of your opponent’s every move.”
Door looked back. Without further orders, Scout continued to execute Tackle after Tackle, only to strike the floor as the snivy danced out of his reach. But then, Door transferred her focus to the snivy, watching it land, shift its feet, and turn to observe Scout. The moment she was looking for was quick, but pause was there. All she needed to figure out now was how to take advantage of this. Door frowned, letting that thought sink in.
“You saw it, right?” Geist asked. “Snivy is keeping its distance. It knows Scout is fake. It can’t wear him down or put itself in range of its attacks, so it’s waiting for Scout to damage
himself.”
“So what do I do?” Door asked.
“You remember that clever trainers use what they have. Including what’s on the battlefield.”
Geist nodded to the desk. Door followed his gaze to see the scattered tools and parts on the floor, then the ones still on the top of the desk, then the toolbox sitting in the exact center of the mess.
Oh.
“Scout!” she called. “Rush Snivy from the side!”
The patrat’s ears perked, and his eyes flashed once. Door looked back to the pokémon in time to see Scout dash in an arc towards the snivy. As it watched him, the grass-type hissed again and leapt back to dodge yet another Tackle. It came close to where Door needed it, but it wasn’t close enough.
“Again! But come at its front!” Door ordered.
Scout drove itself towards the snivy, forcing it to dodge backwards one more time. Its back struck the desk, and the toolbox lurched closer to the edge.
“Again!” Door shouted. “From the front!”
Without a second thought, Scout dove at the snivy, and the lizard dove out of the way.
Door wondered if the snivy underwent an epiphany right then and there. She had never handled real pokémon, and as such, she didn’t know how advanced their intellects actually were. Maybe they
did comprehend tactics or danger the way humans did. Maybe they didn’t.
Either way, she knew the snivy understood
something, as the second Scout plowed into the desk and sent the toolbox crashing onto the floor between him, the lizard’s eyes widened, and it froze with an expression Door was almost certain wasn’t just shock from the loud noise and sudden movement.
“Now!” Door cried.
Bursting from the wreckage of the toolbox, Scout rushed at the snivy. Its eyes snapped to him, but the distraction shook it just enough to keep it rooted to the spot for a second too long. Scout threw all his body weight right into the snivy before it could even flinch.
And then, it exploded in a puff of pink smoke.
For a long while, no one said anything. Door simply stood, stunned, as she locked her eyes on her patrat. The patrat looked back at her and blinked lazily, both eyelids lowering and rising again in a slow glide. And then, Geist finally broke the silence with a heavy sigh and a light pat on Door’s shoulders.
“Almost but not quite, Dr. Fennel,” he said.
With that, he strolled forward, hands folding behind his back and eyes on the open staircase on the other side of the room, and at long last, Door realized they weren’t alone. A short, stocky woman idled halfway up the stairs with one hand on the banister and the other in the pocket of her lab coat. Her blue eyes sparkled behind a pair of oval glasses in a way that reminded Door of Professor Ironwood’s smile, and in response to Geist’s comment, she tipped her head towards the pink, blob-like creature floating beside her. This gave the purrloin—the same battered one that Scout had knocked down a moment ago—enough room to leap onto the woman’s shoulder and nestle itself under the graying, chestnut bob of her hair.
“It was a good try anyway,” she said. She pulled her hand out of her coat pocket and placed it on the purrloin’s back. “One of them seems stable, at least. You’ll be pleased to know your hypothesis about using a psychic gem to boost the tangibility was correct, but I’d like to do an experiment involving a fragment of a mind plate eventually. No doubt the pokémon that come out of
that will be even better!”
“I can put out a call to Bebe Larson if you’d like,” Geist replied. “The plates manifest most frequently in the Sinnoh Underground. She would know if anyone had unearthed a mind plate recently.”
The woman smiled. “Armed with good ideas as usual. That’s my assistant.” She beckoned Door forward with her free hand. “But it’ll have to wait. We have guests, Geist! You must be Doreen, Professor Ironwood’s assistant.”
“It’s … it’s Door,” Door stammered with a blink.
“Door it is, assuming you’ll call me Amanita,” she replied. “I’d imagine that Geist has been referring to me as ‘Dr. Fennel’ this and ‘my employer’ that. He has an unfortunate habit of being too formal around company he’s not used to, I’m afraid.”
At that, Geist turned his head and coughed into one of his fists, keeping the other hand behind his back. Door ignored him, stepped forward, and gestured towards the empty space where the snivy had been.
“Um,” she said.
“Don’t worry about the mess,” Amanita responded. “I’ll clean it up later. That was a great battle, by the way! A bit basic, but for a new trainer, it’s clear you have a lot of potential.”
Door swallowed. “
Um.”
“Dr. Fennel, I believe Door is trying to ask for an explanation,” Geist said lightly.
Amanita raised her eyebrows. “Oh! Of course!” She motioned towards the blob, which eased its red eyes open and stared directly at Door. “Door, this pokémon is called a munna. You do know about munna, don’t you?”
Door furrowed her eyebrows. “Sure. Psychic-types. Distant cousins of the drowzee line. They eat dreams.”
“Right,” Amanita replied. “But they also expel—”
“Dream mist. I know.”
Amanita lowered her hand as a surprised smile played across her face. “Do you?”
“Yeah,” Door said with an uncomfortable shrug. “Professor Ironwood told me all about munna.”
“Good old Bianca,” Amanita said. “But yes. Dream mist. You do know, then, what dream mist can do, right?”
“It can—” Door stopped, then threw a glance to the space where the snivy had been. “Oh. You’re not telling me that…”
Amanita’s smile grew broader. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
At that, Door couldn’t help but relax. Her shoulders fell, and her posture slouched as she exhaled. “Oh. So it wasn’t real.”
“Oh, it was real.”
Door shot Amanita a look. Her eyebrows furrowed, her mouth scrunched up, and her every muscle dedicated themselves to conveying how deep her confusion was.
“What?” she asked.
Amanita chuckled and reached out to pet her munna. It huffed and rubbed against her, bobbing a little closer to its master. At the same time, Amanita’s other hand shifted to the purrloin’s head, and the cat purred and batted its tail back and forth.
“You see,” Amanita said, “it’s true that dream mist possesses certain hallucinogenic properties, and typically, it creates illusions, not tangible objects. However, I’ve been experimenting with boosting Munna’s telekinetic and somnokinetic abilities to the point where, if she wills it, she can compress the dream mist she exudes and convert it into portals.”
Door took another step forward. “Portals? What … what do you mean by portals?”
At that moment, Geist cleared his throat, and Door looked up to see him sweeping up the area around the desk with a broom and long-handled dustpan. The tools Door had scattered were already sitting neatly beside the toolbox on the desk.
“How much do you know about the Entralink?” Geist asked.
“Not much,” Door admitted. “But then again, there’s not much to know about it. It’s a wasteland, isn’t it? Absolutely no one permitted inside?”
He looked up with a smirk. “And why do you think that is?”
Door considered this. It was common knowledge, sure, but why? She struggled to recall all the things she learned about it—all the lessons in school that had centered around Unovan geography. She remembered her school books, her teachers’ lectures, her entire education, and in her memories, all of the information she could recall about the Entralink could be condensed into a single paragraph. It was a vibrant place once upon a time: a vast forest full of life and pokémon smack in the heart of Unova. And then, when the pokémon disappeared, so did the forest, which left the Entralink little more than a desert. This wasn’t some government cover-up either; the photographs of the Entralink’s shrinking green expanses were used in environmental protests for decades until the pokémon population finally collapsed.
So Door couldn’t help but stare at Geist blankly instead of answering his question. She literally couldn’t tell him why it was off-limits. It just was, even if there was literally nothing there.
Luckily, he seemed to know, so after resting the broom and the dustpan against the desk, he clapped his hands together and said, “Because it’s unstable now that there are no pokémon.”
“Un … unstable? What do you mean?” Door asked.
“Perhaps we should just give you a straight answer here,” Amanita replied. “Even back when real pokémon existed in this region, the Entralink wasn’t fully understood. That’s what my sister’s research set out to uncover: the exact nature of that very spot. Somewhere along the line, she discovered something interesting, and that something was the fact that whoever named the Entralink knew how to pick ‘em.”
“Huh?”
“I mean,” Amanita continued, “that the Entralink is an entry and a link to a different place: the Dream World.”
The ensuing silence was palpable. Door stood, staring up at Amanita blankly, and Amanita smirked back at her. Then, after a minute passed, the researcher sighed and draped her wrists over the banister.
“Well? Aren’t you going to ask me what the Dream World is?” she asked.
“Oh-kay,” Door said, drawing each syllable out over one long exhale. “What’s the Dream World?”
Amanita slapped the banister. “Glad you asked! The Dream World is exactly what you think it is: the world constructed from pokémon dreams.” Pausing, Amanita pushed herself up, placing one hand on the banister and the other on her hip. “Don’t look at me like that! You’ve already seen a tangible part of this dream world in the form of dream mist. It’s just that the Dream World is something bigger, something that can be shared between pokémon. It is, in other words, another dimension formed from the collective dream energy of every pokémon in existence. While there are different entry points to this other dimension, the biggest weak point in the barrier between reality and the Dream World was once located at the heart of the Entralink. To push through it, all a trainer needed was a sleeping pokémon and a handy little device my sister and I created with the help of dream mist we collected.”
“The C-Gear,” Geist finished. “We would give you one, but it’s unfortunately rather useless at this point. What Dr. Fennel forgot to mention is that without pokémon, there isn’t enough dream energy in Unova to support the bridge between the Dream World and reality. Thus, with the disappearance of the last wild pokémon in the region, the Entralink collapsed. This isn’t to say that there’s nothing but desert there, of course. Although the dreaming pokémon are gone, their dream energy lingered, congealing into what’s known as dream bubbles. Thus, whereas long ago, pokémon could direct dream energy within the Entralink to become things their trainers may desire, the undirected dream
bubbles are left to become something far more dangerous.”
“What, monsters?” Door asked.
“No, actually, bombs.”
She gave him a long, steady look. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Geist replied. “Without pokémon to shape them into stable forms, dream bubbles have an unfortunate habit of converting themselves back into energy of the ordinary, non-dream variety in the most violent ways possible. It’s not pleasant, and the government understood that. So the Entralink became off-limits until the last of the dream bubbles clear off.”
“Okay, so I got all that,” Door said, “but what does this have to do with that snivy being real?”
“Well, therein lies the interesting part,” Amanita told her. “You see, the reason why we know the Dream World was a dimension and not merely electrical pulses in a pokémon’s brain is because it was possible to pull things from the Dream World into our own.”
“So … what? Snivy was a dream pokémon?” Door asked.
“Oh yes,” Amanita answered. “From Munna’s dream. You see, Geist and I have been researching ways to use dream mist to create portals to the Dream World anywhere, not just the Entralink. It ties in with a theory we have about the sudden reappearance of real pokémon.”
“Whoa.” Door held up her hands and moved forward a little more. “Whoa, wait. Are you saying there are real pokémon in this region?”
“Why, yes.”
“Not just in your front yard.”
Amanita’s smile returned. “Of course.”
And at that, Door’s eyes widened. “But … where? How?”
“We don’t entirely know,” Geist said. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. But we do know that that munna up there was among the first.”
He nodded to the munna bobbing beside Dr. Fennel. As Door looked at her, she closed her eyes and sang, thrilled to be the center of attention for once. The munna didn’t look particularly out-of-the-ordinary to Door—no distinguishing marks or special color or aura of power or anything else she would have expected from something so powerful it apparently blinked to life out of nowhere. If anything, it looked exactly like the faux munna Door had seen on televised gym battles and tournaments. Then again, there were always other possibilities.
“Are you sure it’s native? Maybe it was abandoned,” Door reasoned. “Or maybe its parents were. There’re munna habitats in Kalos and Hoenn, right?”
“All very good theories,” Amanita answered. “Professor Ironwood taught you well. But no, this one was born here; after all, we found her egg in the Dreamyard. No parents in sight.” She hesitated. “Of course, this isn’t to say that we’re ruling out the idea of a parent munna or musharna somewhere in the Dreamyard, especially given the strange bit of activity that happened after we found the egg.”
“Activity?”
“Sure.” Amanita nodded to Jack, still perched on Door’s shoulder after all this time. “All of the pokémon in this lab, your oshawott included, suddenly appeared there too. Fully formed, no less, not as eggs. This all began happening less than a month ago, and we’ve been working to figure out what we’re dealing with since. So, yes, we think there’s a parent munna or musharna somewhere in the Dreamyard and that the Dreamyard itself has become an alternate entry point to the Dream World in lieu of the Entralink, but we haven’t been able to find the pokémon
or a portal yet. In the meantime, we’re testing the stability of pokémon pulled from there, which is why Professor Ironwood agreed to give away three Dreamyard-born starters to trainers. It’s to test whether or not they’re stable, as you might’ve guessed with the fate of the snivy you’ve battled just a moment ago.” Amanita dropped her hand. “Unfortunately, our munna’s not quite as strong as whatever’s in the Dreamyard. Whatever she pulls out of the Dream World is sent back there if they take too much damage in reality. Bit of a pesky problem, but it’s not her fault.”
Munna hummed and bowed her head before nuzzling against Amanita again. In response, Amanita petted the psychic gently.
Meanwhile, Door shifted her head to look at Jack, who had been quiet since the moment they had walked in. It was odd to Door that he would be, considering he seemed so friendly and chattery every other time she looked at him, but now, perhaps after seeing the snivy get banished back to the Dream World—or whatever really happened—he seemed distant. Silent. Even as Door reached up to stroke the side of his head, he didn’t respond.
And then, she realized why. He had watched something just like him vanish in a puff of smoke, and she didn’t even think twice about how he felt on the matter. Biting her lip, Door thought about the weight of what she had just learned and what she had just done. Everything came to her so quickly that she had forgotten completely about Jack and how he had to have felt.
To be fair, all the things Amanita and Geist had just told her was too much, so it was hard
not to be distracted. There were real pokémon. An entire alternate dimension. Some kind of weird magic energy that sprouted from pokémon dreams. And all of this came to her on what was just the second day of her journey—a journey she didn’t want to take in the first place. Yet despite the fact that this might have been her reason for not noticing Jack’s silence, it still didn’t excuse what she had done.
“Hey,” she said quietly. “The snivy. Is it … is it okay?”
The scientist stopped petting her munna and smiled. “Oh yes. Of course it is. Like I said, the Dream World is an entire alternate dimension. It’s possible to pull things from it, and it’s possible to send things back. Your patrat did a number on that snivy, but I’m sure it’s recovering back in the Dream World where it belongs.” Amanita began petting Munna again. “It’s a nice place actually. The Dream World, I mean. I haven’t seen it since the Entralink collapsed, of course, but how could I forget what that kind of place looked like?”
At that, finally, Jack stirred under Door’s touch. He chattered softly, nuzzling against Door’s chin. Door breathed a sigh of relief but then thought about Jack—about figuring out a way to apologize to him properly.
And then, it hit her.
“The Dreamyard,” she said. “It’s close to here, right?”
“That’s right,” Amanita replied.
“Could I … do you think I could bring Jack to see it?”
“Any particular reason why?”
Door leaned her head into her otter’s shoulder. “I just think it’d be nice to let him see where he came from.”
Amanita moved her hand, using it to prop her chin up as she rested her elbow on the banister. “Well, I don’t suppose I could deny that. Of course you can. Under one condition.”
“Condition?”
“Yes. Just one condition.” Amanita inclined her head towards her assistant. “Geist, you’ll have to take her to Striaton Gym. She’ll need to earn her way into the Dreamyard.”
Door recoiled. “I … what? You want me to earn a badge, just to enter the Dreamyard?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Amanita said. “No one can enter the Dreamyard unless they’ve gotten express permission from the local gym leaders, and the local gym leaders only hand out permission to trainers who’ve proven themselves capable of handling pokémon in a humane manner. And anyone who’s working for me, of course.”
“Seriously?”
Amanita shrugged. “Leader’s rules. And to be fair, it’s also always been the gym leader’s duty to protect the Dreamyard since the laboratory was abandoned. It’s dangerous there too, you know. Granted, that’s more because there’s a collapsing, abandoned building in there than because of all the reasons why you can’t get to the Entralink anymore.”
“Oh.” Door shifted on her feet. “That … actually makes sense.”
“‘Course it does. Now, Geist, if you don’t mind, why don’t you come upstairs and help me make the arrangements? I’ll need to speak with you privately about what happened in Nuvema anyway.”
“Yes, of course.” As soon as he said those words, Geist stepped forward until his feet mounted the stairs. Then, with one last glance to Door, he told her, “This should only take a moment. Please wait right there.”
With that, Amanita, Geist, and the two pokémon disappeared through the entrance to the second floor, but Door stood back a short distance from the staircase. Her hand rested on Jack, but her eyes fell on Scout, who ambled up to stand at her feet. After some time, she exhaled.
“Well, guys,” she said, “you up for a gym match?”
Scout inclined his head in quiet incomprehension, but Jack whined on her shoulder and pushed his face into her neck. At those responses, Door frowned and glanced back towards the laboratory’s front door.
“Me too,” she muttered.
I’m glad you liked it, and I appreciate the review! Thanks for giving me an excuse to talk at length about fics. XD
