Exile

Part 7

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Warmth and light pressing against his eyelids inspired them to flutter open, and Jason resisted his instinct to shield his eyes with his palm. Through the window’s sheers, he could see a spray of sunlight bursting across the horizon and dappling the clouds with various vivid red, oranges, and purples. He kept his eyes open and he focused on the fact that the sun was on the rise. If that’s true, then the “wake-up call” that girl was talking about earlier–

His train of thought was interrupted by a rapid series of knocks on his door, making him jump. He got up and went to the door. “Yeah?”

“7 a.m.,” a muffled male voice called through the door. “Standard wake-up.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Jason replied, making a sour face at the door as he spoke. He turned back to the bed and sat back down, then noted the clock on the bedside table confirmed what the voice at the door had said. He let himself fall backward on the bed, unsure as to what he should do with himself. Would love some extra sleep, but if I do that, chances are I’ll oversleep. And Oak’s not coming in until 8, so getting up right now would probably be too early. Doesn’t leave much wiggle room for me here...

He sat back up. I’ll at least play with the alarm. He fiddled with the clock’s settings – fortunately, they were simple enough that he had it set for 7:30 within moments. He laid back down and closed his eyes, trying to let sleep overtake him again... or at the very least, reach the peace of the twilight between the waking and dream worlds.

If there was an endpoint to that journey, however, he felt himself only midway there when the alarm buzzed annoyingly at him. He jerked back to wakefulness and mentally directed a string of foul words at the machine while slapping at the Snooze button. Even knowing that method would turn off the noise, he knew it was hopeless by this point to try to acquire any more sleep.

He climbed out of bed and donned his shoes and vest, then exited the room. He felt somewhat gratified to see that he wasn’t the only one leaving his quarters at more than half past, as several other apparent residents were just leaving their quarters as well. He received several polite nods from them as he worked his way up the hall, but none appeared interested in engaging him in conversation.

He stopped by each of the Pokémon pens for a couple minutes apiece on his way to the main reception area. Now there were human researchers in the pens, and they appeared to be actively engaging with the Pokémon – speaking to them, feeding them, or playing with them, by and large very informal activities. These were things Jason was more familiar with seeing the breeders at the CBC doing, making sure that the Pokémon being raised out of their infancy were social and personable. Some breeders were more accomplished in that area than others, but in the case of employees like Janice Forester, special emphasis was placed on making sure the Pokémon were capable of establishing bonds with their would-be trainers.

Jason took note of the fact that each researcher in the pens wore a pristine lab coat and carried a clipboard, on which were any number of documents that bore scribbled notes of every sort and in absolutely no order. At least three carried measuring implements and were using them to gauge the size of certain Pokémon, presumably to track their growth – for most Pokémon, growth cycles were much more rapid than those of humans, especially when enduring the taxing process of instant evolution.

He eventually made his way back to reception, where the rude girl from before had been replaced by a boy who looked younger than Jason. Upon seeing Jason, the boy offered him a polite nod. “You’re the guy that got here last night, right?”

“Um, yes.”

“Yeah, Professor Oak should be on his way here, any minute now.” He glanced up at a nearby wall-mounted clock – Jason followed his gaze and saw the clock read 7:55. “He’s always here by 8. Well, almost always.”

“‘Almost’?”

The kid shrugged. “He’s in charge, he gets to make his own hours.”

“Must be nice.”

“Probably is. If you wanna take a seat, he’ll be coming right through that door, can’t miss you.”

“Okay.” Jason decided not to point out there still were no chairs available to sit in, and he took up his position on the floor from the night previous.

His wait was not a long one. Within five minutes, the front door swung open, allowing a fat stream of sunlight to offer an alternative to the drab lighting in the equally drab reception area, and Professor Oak stepped through the portal. His entry – which might have been an impressive image of a resolute and confident man ready to get work done – was dulled by a protracted yawn that opened his mouth nearly as widely as the door behind him. Amused, Jason also noticed that the professor’s hair looked as if it had been hastily combed with his fingers. The elder man carried a clipboard on which he was balancing an oversized cup of coffee, and hanging loosely from his opposite shoulder was a stylish black backpack.

When the professor saw Jason seated on the floor, he approached and raised his eyebrows at the teen. “You know, there are alternatives to sitting on the ground.”

“I don’t see any,” Jason remarked, gesturing at the seats sloppily stacked above their own back-rests with paperwork.

Oak considered Jason’s point, then countered. “Usually, people who work for me are willing to demonstrate some incentive to find a more comfortable place to sit.”

“Do people who work for you usually stand up when you come into their presence, too?” Jason asked, chucking a thumb at the receptionist – the boy had shot to his feet and appeared ready to salute the professor.

Oak eyed the boy, then turned back to Jason and gave a casual bob of his head. “Usually, yes.”

The response was all Jason needed; he stood up and brushed off his pants. “Hope you don’t mind me getting a delayed start on that, then.”

“I don’t mind, just as long as you’re learning how to adapt. That’s much better than just settling for what feels like it’ll work and won’t bother anyone.” Oak took the coffee cup off his clipboard and inspected the papers on it for a moment. “Never settle for anything, Jason. Always challenge yourself and others to do better and be better.”

“I’ll do that, but I’ve gotta start somewhere first, right?”

“Quite true.” Oak ran his thumb under the backpack’s shoulder strap, gripped it, then held it out. “So start with these.”

Jason blinked, but took the backpack without complaint and opened it. The interior was vastly roomier than its outside implied, and contained a PokéDex, a capture ball belt, and five Poké Balls. Jason pulled the belt out and inspected it for a long moment. While its design was specialized to hold Pokémon capsules, many people weren’t aware it also had a number of technological features woven into the hardy material – among them, an electronic identification registry stamp that tagged each and every ball he carried in the capsule holders with his unique ID number. And I have to slot each of the balls in the holders to stamp them before I can try to capture anything, or else the Pokémon won’t be properly tagged, he recalled.

“I gather I don’t need to tell you how to tag your Poké Balls,” Oak remarked.

“Nope, I got it.”

“Good. The belt has already been programmed and logged into the local Pokémon Management System, so it’s ready for use.” The professor leaned a little closer to Jason and uttered his next words quietly. “Keep in mind, it’s only in the local system.”

So if I try to catch something outside my authorized zone, the Pokémon Management System will alert the proper authorities. That’s a great thing to waste police resources on, arresting someone for catching a wild Pokémon. Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes – that point had already been made clear to him once. “I understand, Professor.”

“Good. Your credit card is loaded into the corresponding slot in your PokéDex, three thousand pokéyen ready to go. Keep the ‘Dex handy, you’ll need it to record notes and videos on the behavior of your Pokémon.”

Jason pulled the red handheld device out of the backpack and looked it over. Its shape resembled a wide brick but weighed perhaps only half that much. He raised an eyebrow at it and looked up at the professor. “All the mini-tech on the belt and in the Poké Balls, and this.”

Oak shrugged. “I didn’t design it to look pretty. It’s there to do a job. So are you.” He gestured grandly to the door. “It’s a beautiful morning. Better get yourself to it.”

Jason returned the devices to the backpack and slung it over one shoulder. “Thanks, Professor,” he said, his tone sincere. “Really.”

“You’re welcome.” The professor stepped to the door and held it open. “A new world awaits you. Make the most of it.”

Jason hesitated a moment, then gave the professor and the laboratory one last glance before moving toward the door. He set his eyes on the path as he stepped through. First thing’s first, I have to go get Gyarados.

Actually, no, he corrected himself, spotting a familiar house just off the beaten path. First thing’s first – I should really go thank Mrs. Ketchum real quick. It was an idea that he might have passed on, but he saw the woman stepping outside with a bucket of gardening implements and a heavy-duty apron.

He approached the white fence that denoted the edge of her property and gave her a polite smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Ketchum.”

“Oh, Jason.” She smiled back at him. “You’re up bright and early.”

“No earlier than you, I’m betting.”

“Oh, goodness, I’m starting to forget what sleep is like, as many times as I have to deal with Ash trying to get up in the middle of the night.” She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’ll get him to learn about the joys of a good night’s rest eventually. But enough about that. I see you’ve got a backpack now... did Professor Oak give it to you?”

“Yeah.” Jason tugged on the shoulder strap, feeling a slight swell of pride. “Actually, he’s letting me work for him, sort of. He wants me to go out and catch Pokémon for his lab.”

“Sounds like a fun adventure!” she answered, another smile blossoming across her features. “Then I hope you have yourself a wonderful time out there.”

“Me, too. I just wanted to stop by and thank you for being so nice to me and helping me out.” He tugged at the vest he wore. “You realize I’m gonna return these.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will. Just don’t expect me to take them back that easily.”

“Well, I’m not gonna be naked when I do, so I’ll have a fair reason to give them back.”

“Being naked on a Pokémon journey would not be a good thing.”

Jason wasn’t sure how to respond to that beyond, “Uh... no.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, so... I’ll probably be back through Pallet Town before long.”

She smiled once more. “Good! I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah. See ya.”

Jason backed away from the whitewashed fence and turned toward the shore; he shook his head and smiled. That... is one strange woman. But given how nice she is, she’s definitely a friend worth having. He tugged on the vest and looked over his outfit, noting that it already looked somewhat rumpled – most likely from having slept in it. I can look forward to a lot of that, I think...

When he arrived on the beach, he saw that Gyarados had moved off the sand and was circling about in the deeper waters several yards away. The sea serpent had clearly been surveying the shore; the moment its eyes latched onto him, it swam back to the sandbar. Jason’s face twisted into a half-smile. “Miss me?”

Gyarados issued a low growl.

The teen released a chuckle. “You know something, I’m nowhere close to figuring you out. But you’re here, and you’re with me. More than I can say for just about anything or anyone else. So I’ll take what I can get.”

Gyarados coiled its lower half on the beach, offering no vocal response.

Jason held up a finger. “Check this out.” He set the backpack on the ground and pulled out the belt, as well as a Poké Ball. “Got these from Professor Oak this morning. I’ve been made an official Pokémon trainer. Time to make you my first one.”

He tried to ignore the pressure he felt from Gyarados’ stare as he strapped the belt around his waist and cinched it. He glanced at the slots intended to carry capture balls and noted that each slot had a number painted into the bottom – 1 to 6, from left to right. He traded the Poké Ball he’d removed from the pack to his left hand and placed it in the first slot. A tinny beep emitted from a miniature speaker woven into the belt almost immediately, indicating the ball was properly stamped and ready for use.

He removed the ball from the slot, then pressed the stud in its center. The miniaturization technology within the ball issued a whine as it activated and suddenly enlarged to three times its original size in his palm. The sensation of its growth among his fingers was a familiar one – he’d done it many times before – but it also seemed novel every time. No other technology he’d ever seen was capable of that feat. Seems like a lot of trouble to go to in order to make capture balls easier to carry, he thought.

Gyarados shifted its gaze to regard the Poké Ball, and then its eyes flickered back to Jason. It gave no indication of any emotional response.

Jason held up the ball. “You ready for this?”

Gyarados lowered its head to the ground... perhaps the one thing it could have done to signify to Jason that it would offer no resistance to being captured.

Jason stood back, cocked his arm, and threw the ball at Gyarados.

It struck the Pokémon in the side, rebounded high into the air...

And then the ball split open, and a beam of reddish energy shot out to engulf Gyarados.

Jason kept his eyes locked with those of Gyarados as the serpentine creature melted into pure energy and was sucked into the mirrored interior. The kickback of the energy being drawn into the ball was enough to keep it airborne until the transfer was complete; as it began to fall, it snapped shut, and locked upon striking the ground.

Jason watched the ball wiggle back and forth, a signature of the strength of the Pokémon within – whether or not it wished to struggle, it was an instinct against such a jarring transformation. He held his breath even knowing this time, it would be a sure catch. Uncertainty coursed through his veins, but wasn’t accompanied by the fear that marked his first attempt. Just breathe, Jason, he admonished himself. Just breathe, and watch yourself taking the first step of your journey.

The stud in the center of the Poké Ball was glowing red, the same neon burn of the energy pulsing inside it, and it was the other means of discovering whether a Pokémon was battling the confines of the capsule. The ball itself stopped shuddering, but the button continued to glare angrily for a moment that by Jason’s watch could have measured the length of eternity.

And then the glow faded away, permitting the button’s usual ivory hue to return.

Jason’s chest collapsed as he let out the incredible amount of breath he’d withheld, and his face cracked into a smile that was at once excited and anxious. He knelt down beside the ball and gingerly plucked it from the sand. He stared at it for a long moment, as if it somehow now held answers to all the mysteries of the universe within. Then he poked the button, and it wailed as it shrank back down to the size of a paddleball. Then he looked to his belt, hesitated another moment, and finally tucked it into slot 1.

Okay. Step one, complete. And now for step two. Hastily, he removed the other Poké Balls from his backpack and pressed each one into his belt for stamping. Each small beep offered him a boost of confidence, as if further setting into stone his future as a Pokémon trainer.

And now for step three. He looked up at the path that would lead him out of Pallet Town.

Start moving.

He got back to his feet, and with perhaps more hope for himself than he’d ever felt before...

Jason Creight walked on.

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End of Exile

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© Matt Morwell, 2011