Chapter 11: Emily Prest
by LukerUpgradezChapter 11: Emily Prest
God, everything hurt.
That was the first thought that shot through Mathew’s head when he snapped awake. The adrenaline had run out, and now all of the scratches he’d taken between the basketball and the spear were in full force. It was a wonder that nothing had drawn blood.
He was splayed out on a cheap and rubbery bed that reminded him of an Earthen hospital. To his left were blue shelves lined with berries and seeds of all kinds, along with an assortment of unfamiliar tools. The ceiling hung high, but the walls were closing in on him, just short of swallowing him up.
The two figures standing around him didn’t help with the claustrophobia. On his left was a strange pokémon that Mathew could only compare to a misshapen pineapple. He was holding a jar of seeds with small green stems sticking out of them.
Reviver seeds.
“Mr. Walker.”
Towering before his feet was a species Mathew recognized. He was already familiar with the empoleon’s wide build, white lace-coated chest, and hulking flippers, but seeing these features in person, filling the whole room, showed him just how befitting the title ‘emperor penguin’ was. Sharp blue eyes peeked between the gaps of the horns extending from her beak, forming a trident shape.
“Here you go!” The duck medic had swapped to a jar of oran berries while he’d been staring at the empoleon. “All those hits you took didn’t break any bones, so this is all you need.”
“…Thanks.” Mathew said nothing as he took one and bit down. All his attention was focused on the empoleon. No words were needed — something about her presence just commanded it.
She finally spoke again. “It’s good to see you’re back with us. I was made aware how concerned your friends were for your health, especially the young Mr. Johdaile.”
This person talked to Joey? “How long’ve I been out…?”
“About forty-five minutes.”
He missed the rest of the game, then. Figures.
The empoleon looked to the medic. “Is there any other health concern left to address?” she asked.
“He should be all good now!” he answered. “He might need to take it easy for a bit, though — the food healed his wounds, but the only thing that makes those stress levels go down is time.”
“I see. In that case, I will take it from here. Thank you.” She nodded, as if to affirm that he was dismissed. Jovially, the other pokémon made for the door. Now it was just the two of them.
Mathew pushed himself up into a sitting position, feeling a bit better now that the oran had kicked in. “I’m sorry, should I know you?” Actually, on second thought… “Do I know you? I think I’ve heard your voice somewhere before.”
He seemed certain of it now. Firm, concise, and clear, as if at any moment she could spring into a powerful monologue… He had heard somebody speak with that intonation. Many times, even.
The empoleon seemed amused by the remark. “We’ve never met, no. But I would be surprised if you lost your ability to recognize me. After all—”
Just then, the door to the clinic burst open. “M-Mrs. Prest! How is…oh.”
There stood Demurke, holding the door aside with her wing. She seemed a little flustered having interrupted their conversation, so she promptly closed it again. But, wait…
Prest. She called her Prest.
His half-booted brain connected the dots.
“Prest?” Mathew repeated, looking up at the empoleon. “Like, Emily Prest?”
She nodded. “Yes. That Emily Prest. I lead this organization.”
The cubone collapsed onto his back again. He’d been willing to make some concessions in pursuit of this new life. Multiverse theory. Pokémon being real. Magic bones. Weapons made of household objects and random stones.
But ask him to make a thousand bingo cards of life-changing revelations, and he would never think to put this on one.
Emily Prest was formerly the fifty-first President of the United States.
And she was standing in front of him.
Telling him that the organization that flung him a dimension over was of her making.
What the fuck.
Emily moved to the side of the bed, peering over him. “Are you alright, Mr. Walker?”
“I feel like I’m in a dream right now,” he said, “but besides that? Never better.”
Emily raised a flipper, seeming contemplative. “Perhaps I should’ve prepared my greeting more thoroughly…”
Mathew propped himself back up. “It’s just — you disappeared! Is this where you’ve been this whole time? Why did you—”
“All in due time,” Emily cut him off, lowering it down. “The journey that led me here is a long and complex story. Once you are fully initiated and I can trust you, I can share the full explanation.”
He deflated. Mathew wasn’t going to pressure her — Emily Prest was not somebody you pushed around — but not knowing what became of her for the past thirteen years was going to nag at him. She couldn’t even tell him why she was here? “That’s basically what David said, too. I’m doing all this work, and I only kind of know what it means.”
Emily must have sensed the disappointment in his voice. She paced around, staring at the ceiling. “How to phrase this palatably…” She snapped back to attention. “Right. You work under Mr. Persian and that girl. The trash-cleaning job?”
Mathew nodded. “What about it?”
“Then you’ve been given a taste of how Solceus’ new industries pollute their dungeons and endanger their inhabitants.” Her gaze became dark. “The people of this world are catching up to us, Mr. Walker — and not just in technology. Their doomsday clock is ticking, and if nothing changes, it’ll hit midnight the same way ours did.”
Hit midnight…?
Now it clicked. Impassioned speeches echoed in his mind, demanding action, demanding responsibility, demanding change. Her will to move the fragmented nation to resist the calamity coming upon the Earth was Mathew’s freshest memory of her.
“You haven’t changed, have you?” he remarked. “We’re here for the same reason you wanted the White House. To ‘save the world’. Or, worlds now, I guess.” David and Demurke had said that was the goal, too. It made sense under her vision.
Emily shook her head. “I wish I could say I haven’t changed. I’d call myself hopeless, really — about as hopeless as our old home right now.” She leaned in, horn prongs pointing into the air. “But there is hope for Solceus, still, and that’s worth fighting for.”
Mathew found the explanation almost revitalizing. This wasn’t just some lofty vision — the reason he was here was to prevent an apocalypse. To rid Solceus of the chaos that swept over his home’s streets! That would bring him the peace he wanted. He was certain of it.
He just had to beat Dit’s scrutiny. He had to prove that he belonged in the laboratory and not on the front lines. He had to win David’s game and — Oh shit he’d almost forgotten about that!
Mathew immediately leapt off the bed. Memories were pouring to the forefront — memories of losing his cool. “Where’s David and Joey?! I need to talk to them both!”
“Mr. Emmons is still at the Waregle. However…” Instead of answering, she simply opened the door out of the clinic.
They were waiting for him in the hallway. Demurke shaking off the embarrassment, Jermy breathing a sigh of relief, ORB unflinching and…
“Joey!” Mathew blazed past Emily, stopping just short of hugging the totodile. “Are you okay? Those other recruits didn’t hurt you too much, did they?”
Joey looked at him wide-eyed, seeming surprised by his sudden approach. “Uh, not really?” He pushed him away a little. “My legs are more achy than a burning heart, though…”
Mathew sighed in relief. “Well, that’s good. Did we win?”
He firmly shook his head. “They all busted up the gun. I tried to fix it up, but I ain’t a mechanic like you… The crowd really liked the big spear in the end.”
“Oh.” As he expected. Neither of them were prepared to fend off three trained attackers alone for half an hour. “That’s my fault. I left you literally high and dry out there.”
Joey averted his gaze, staring down the plain, windowless hospital hallway. “About as high and dry as a kite in a sunny sky.”
Mathew grimaced under his mask. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” he mumbled, not even letting him finish. “It ain’t all your fault. My head’s not screwed on straight…”
Mathew wasn’t sure how to answer that. Luckily, he didn’t have to.
Emily walked over to the two, letting the door shut. “If it’s any compensation, Joey, I heard several people talking about you after the game. Your dedication to protecting that weapon wasn’t ignored.”
“Hey, and we thought you knocked it out of the park!” Jermy exclaimed. “For your literal fourth day on Solceus, you were really hamming it up out there!”
ORB wheeled in front of Jermy. “He spent the first five minutes wishing for nails to bite.”
Jermy grit his teeth in a wavering smile and dragged the robot behind him. “Not in front of Emily!” he hissed.
“Well, thanks,” Joey remarked, seeming appreciative. He focused on Mathew again. “Did they tell you she was president?”
“I mean, I knew who she was already,” he said honestly.
“It’s been a couple years and it’s still weird to think about,” Jermy admitted.
Demurke nudged the pikachu. “Uh, your c-country had…millions of p-people in it, right?”
“It does now,” Emily explained for him. “Before the fracturing, it had billions.”
Joey deflated. “I don’t even get to remember the president…”
To Mathew’s surprise, Emily crouched down next to Joey, a look of sympathy in her eyes. “I know it’s a difficult position to be put in,” she told him. “At one point in time, I was forced to bear it myself. In fact, the reason I came to speak to you was to provide my assistance.”
“You… You wanna help?!” The totodile’s eyes lit up as he pointed his maw skyward.
“Of course.” She leaned back, flippers at her sides. “I intend to help you find ways to overcome this rough patch in your recruitment — ways that are more reliable than David’s haphazard effort. I want you to feel acclimated here.”
That seemed to knock Joey down all over again. “Oh.”
Yet another reason to feel guilty. Mathew knew that wasn’t the kind of answer he wanted.
And you’d rather stay pitiful for the rest of your life.
“Could you at least tell him how he ended up like this?!”
All eyes snapped to Mathew. Damnit. He hadn’t meant to put so much passion in that question.
“Of course I can explain,” Emily said, pushing the moment along. “Joey, this organization is closely allied with several powerful forces. It’s only with their help that we’ve been able to amass a team this large. However, there are limits to their power. Those who they bring between the worlds are unable to carry specific memories — only vague understandings of concepts.”
Memories and knowledge… People kept making this distinction everywhere they went. It was so strange. How could education and experience be two different things?
Mathew remembered reading about it somewhere. They gave it a name. What was it? And where… Right! The blueprints!
“The Theory of Consciousness Memory Imprinting!” Mathew repeated to them. “I worked on that damn portal for so long, I totally forgot about the theory side of it.”
Jermy gave him a curious look. “Huh. For some reason, I thought you wouldn’t know about that…”
“Why wouldn’t I? It was on the blueprints.” He paced around as he recollected. “When you jump between worlds, your body isn’t transforming to fit the new location. The new body is actually created from scratch, and your consciousness is put into it. Since the new body has a whole new brain—” He knocked on his skull mask. “—It doesn’t have the previous body’s memories. The only reason we know anything is because our consciousness exists separate from the bodies, and can carry certain things over.”
The way Joey looked at him suggested most of that had gone in one ear and out the other.
“You basically got half-reincarnated when you got to Solceus.”
“Oh!” A flash of recognition came…and went. “That makes as much sense as an egg on a stick. And it still doesn’t explain why you got more memories than me.”
ORB was the one who cut in. “The power of machines is consistency. A well-built machine will fulfill its specified purpose every time.”
“Even when you don’t want them to…” Jermy mumbled.
“The portal machines we make use artificial power sources. As long as that machine is properly powered, the connection it forms between two worlds is as perfect as we currently believe is possible, assisting the conscious in the transfer. Living beings, however, have to expend their own energy, which fluctuates and falters. It’s the difference between a human lifting a boulder with their own hands and a lever doing it.”
Joey squinted at the robot. “I guess that makes sense…”
“Admittedly, it baffles me as well. Making sense of these lines of logic is more to David’s expertise,” Emily said. “What matters is that this is a limitation we must work around. We cannot afford to have members travel to candidates all over Earth to build portal machines. Additionally, maintaining an active portal between Earth and Solceus is quite the expense, combined with the network we have just for this world. Until some milestones are accomplished, we simply don’t have the time or resources to ensure—“
Something clicked just then. Emily was asking for milestones? Mathew had a milestone. Well, he almost did. He shelved the ambitions behind it for the time being because he thought he couldn’t make it a reality. But in a world where science was about fusing magic rocks and proving the existence of the soul, maybe he shouldn’t write off absurdities.
“The Wormhole Wristlet!” he cried, turning to his friend. “That’s the answer, Joey! That’s how we can get you your memories back!”
Joey seemed less confused and more…irritated, somehow. “How many more crazy things do you have up your sleeve?”
“Plenty, I think!” He spoke with pep. Nothing could bring him down from the relief of realizing this was a possibility after all.
Demurke mustered a giggle. “Wh-what kind of name is that…?”
“It’s a great name.” Mathew gave her a harsh side-eye, making her go quiet with a nervous look. “The Wormhole Wristlet was a side project…I came up with while trying to get the actual portal device to work. If I was going to make this, I might as well put my own spin on it too, right? I figured a mobile portal device would be nice on the resume.” Plus, he realized, it ensured he’d have a path back to Earth later on.
“Mobile?!” Jermy exclaimed. “What kind of mobile are we talking about here?”
“It fits like a heavy watch.”
He seemed almost giddy, shaking in-place like an excited kid. “Mathew Walker…following up our work…!”
“It’s not actually done, mind you. You’re supposed to fire portals by…well, you type into this keyboard to put your coordinates in and…” Dammit, words were failing him. The cubone sighed. “It’d be easier to show it to you all than explain it. It’s sitting in my room in the apartment.”
“Well, you have caught my interest, Mr. Walker,” Emily remarked. “Even a half-finished product should help significantly to convince the division heads that you can be an asset to our science team.”
Preemptively, Mathew marched down the hall. “Maybe if I hurry—”
The empoleon put a flipper in his way. “I believe you should spend the duration of the morning resting up. It sounds as though you both have earned the extra time.”
“Ah, fair enough.” He was a bit relieved to be turned around — if he’d been allowed to walk off, he would be forced to admit that he didn’t know where the portal out of this hospital was.
Emily faced Jermy. “Would you be so kind as to obtain Mathew’s machine for him?” she asked.
“Aww, what?” Jermy whined. “Well…okay. Where in your room should I look, Mathew?”
Bang bang bang!
This was the second visitor Meowth had received before 7:00 AM. Even when the humans weren’t in his condo, there was no time to rest. Especially when the most energetic person he knew was standing there at his front door.
“Hey.” The darkness did wonders to hide the aging on Minichino’s scarf and hat — and the seriousness on her face. “Can we talk? It’s really important.”
If this was her usual demeanor, Meowth would be inclined to decline. She hated his guts — before the humans had gotten into the picture, she had never once spoken to him outside of a work context. But something about this was different. He’d never seen Minichino without her passionate chipperness. Meowth had to figure out why.
“Sure.” He stepped aside. “Come in.”
Minichino followed him to his couch. It was surreal to see her neither grinning nor yelling. For a second, Meowth wondered if she’d appreciate an encourage seed. He dropped the thought as soon as he realized that’d require telling her about his encourage seeds.
The two of them sat in silence for a moment. The breaking daylight poured in, casting a faint light over the minccino. Meowth kept standing in the shadows of his home. He’s terrible at icebreakers, Minichino must be thinking.
“Look,” she started. “What you did to Mathew was not cool at all. But I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said about dealing with your dad. And I wanna say…” she looked away, towards the window. “I get it.”
Meowth pressed against the wall. “You get it?” He hunted for that sense of pity he felt when she stormed out of his house two days ago.
“A bunch more than you think.” Suddenly, Minichino pulled back her bycocket hat. She’d been concealing a sheet of paper inside of it. “I get that we don’t see eye-to-eye on a bunch of things, but there’s a whole lot of stuff going on that’s way more important. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to ask, but… I really need your help with something.”
Now it made sense. The sincerity was just to play on his sympathy, so he’d accept whatever this favor she wanted was. Fine. He’d play along. “Tell me what you’re planning.”
Minichino stared at the paper in her paw. Meowth couldn’t make out the words, but it was clearly a handwritten note. “Mr. Persian told me that he’s gonna be stuck in a meeting with the Club sponsors all morning. Demurke’s out for some reason, too. He wanted me to guard his place, but the sponsors won’t let me. So the place’ll be totally empty this morning.” She looked up firmly. “I want you to snoop around in Mr. Persian’s files while no one’s looking.”
Bewildered, Meowth pushed off the wall. “You’re kidding.” This had to be some kind of trap. What she was proposing was too absurd coming out of her mouth.
She shook her head. “Dude, if I was kidding, I wouldn’t have come over.”
Meowth sat down next to her, preparing to interrogate. “What are you trying to do in there?”
“I can’t tell you everything, but here’s the gist.” Minichino studied her note, then continued. “In his office, there’s this cabinet opposite his desk where he keeps a bunch of profiles on the Pick-it Up Club employees. Mr. Persian’s sponsors help work on them, too.” She looked at him pleadingly, planting her paw firmly on the couch cushion. “It is super, ultra, mega important that I figure out what’s on those profiles. I got too many eyes on me as the Club leader to do it myself.” Her face brightened up, both desperate and encouraging at the same time. “But you’d get in there no problem! They already know you’re a snooper — it can’t get any worse than that, can it?”
Which is to say that I’m enlisting you for this job because you already have a terrible reputation, Minichino was really saying here. Meowth stared back tensely.
“This is a terrible idea.” He said that, but he was…strangely tantalized. He came here in the first place to find out about his father. Was there any better way to find out than see what was stored in his office?
“Trust me, I get it.” Minichino pulled away. “We’re — I’m as crazy about this as you are. I can’t make you go if you really don’t like it. But you are my best bet to make this happen.” She hugged the note to her chest. “And…I want you to find out about your dad. We’d both get what we want, right?”
The impact of what Minichino was saying began to sink in. This wasn’t some prank. Minichino was letting him in on a conspiracy. She even had the audacity to use his dad as a lure. But he had to admit, it was a hard offer to refuse.
In seconds, Meowth had flung open the door to his room and grabbed a camera. “The quicker I’m in and out, the better. Where is his office exactly?”
Minichino rose off the couch. She held the note at her side, the words facing out. “The top floor! Right above where the fitness room is on the bottom floor. There’s an elevator past a locked door in there — check if you can open it.”
Meowth looked at her for a moment, eyes fixated on her paw gripping the paper. He only gave her a nod before moving for his front door.
“Good luck!” She called, her voice quickening as he moved away from her. “If you get caught I’ll try to bail—!”
She hadn’t even finished explaining before he was outside.
Just before leaving, he’d gotten a good look at that note. He couldn’t make out any of the words, but he could clearly see the handwriting.
Cursive. Flowery. Elegant. Meowth would recognize it anywhere. He’d seen page after page written in that style, right in front of him, in his Higher Ed dorm.
That handwriting was Politoed’s.
Validation couldn’t begin to describe how he felt. It wasn’t just his father hiding the truth. It was the whole Club.
Never before had Meowth stalked his way through the resort lobby with such tension. Already, his heart was pounding. He tried to stay flush with the early-morning crowd. It didn’t shake the feeling that contempt eyes were watching over him. Could somebody tell at a glance what he planned to do with this camera?
He made for the fitness room. Getting to Mr. Persian’s office was the hardest part, he imagined. If this door was locked, then he’d have to—
“…really hope Mathew wasn’t joking about the wearable part. Someone’s gonna get an earful if this thing’s hefty!”
Jermy’s voice. Meowth hugged one of the walls in the hallway, staying as far as he could from the pikachu and his robot as they walked out of the Fitness Room.
“Jermy, you and I both know that the only one who’s gonna ‘get an earful’ is me,” ORB commented.
Meowth kept a careful eye on the robot as he walked down the hall, past his goal. He remembered how ORB had detected him and the other Club members approaching. If he kept to himself, would ORB see him?
The pikachu sighed. “Yeah, you’re right…” The two of them made for the exit.
If ORB sensed him, he didn’t say anything.
Once they were gone, Meowth doubled back and entered the fitness room. To his surprise, there wasn’t anybody inside. A side door labeled “Authorized personnel only” was left half-open. Just past it, he could see what looked like an elevator of some kind.
This must have been what Minichino was referencing. It’d been Jermy, of all people, who gave him access. What a stroke of luck…
The rickety metal elevator, tall and narrow with only rusted railings to protect the shaft, looked nothing like what he was used to. It didn’t float like others he’d seen — it was designed more like the gondola cars, held up by cables that reached up to the ceiling. There was a staircase that climbed upwards in a spiral around the elevator shaft, but he didn’t have time for that. He pulled the gate open, stepped in, and pressed the button for the highest floor.
It creaked and groaned as it was pulled upward…and after a minute, he made it to floor six. This hallway looked similar to the one he’d seen on the lower floor — bland yellow paint covered the walls, the white ceiling above was tinted a cream shade, and a strangely ornate carpet lined the floor.
After ensuring he was unseen, Meowth prowled through the hallway. It took only a few paces to reach his destination: “Office of the Manager”, as labeled on the door. For the first time ever, Meowth stepped into his father’s office.
For somebody with Minichino on his side, Mr. Persian’s workspace was in remarkable disarray. The blue carpet flooring was faded with dirty lines of paw prints and talon tracks. His mahogany desk was overloaded with paper stacks, pens, and ink vials. The paint on the filing cabinets lining the walls was chipping away, exposing the metallic silver underneath. A window overlooking the ocean below let the dawning light shine on the imperfections. It stood in stark contrast to the gentle, yet formal exterior of the rest of the Resort.
Meowth walked behind Mr. Persian’s desk to get a closer look. The documents topping the stacks seemed focused on resort affairs. Most of it was irrelevant finances, but there were a few that stuck out. Meowth grabbed the first one that looked interesting. It was a list of routine visitors who earned hospitality from the employees and shelter in the resort.
Skiploom VII of Vahle Village… Kricketune II of Rimek… Grotle I of Cosaline…
Eduardo Shortsman.
Meowth blinked. A pokémon with two names? That wasn’t something he saw every day. Most names were either a distinguishing nickname or an identifier of lineage and hometown. But here, the two-named vastly outnumbered the conventional titles. Randy Belle. Truman Beasley. Sam Sirine.
Were these…human names?
He quickly got a convincing answer. There were two names on this list that had been scribbled out, replaced with “ArK” and “GRAcIe” in hasty handwriting. But the names below were still legible.
Mathew Walker. Joey Johdaile.
Kalmwa’er Resort was housing humans — a lot of them. Meowth laid the page out and snapped photos. It wasn’t what Minichino had asked him to find, but it was worth keeping a record of.
Once he was satisfied, the cat set the paper down and snuck over to the filing cabinets across from the desk. Minichino didn’t mention that there was more than one. Annoying… He chose one at random to open first, housing three drawers.
The handle on the bottom drawer was cold to the paw. He pulled open the drawer to find…empty boxes for microwave dinners and open food cans. What? The middle drawer was about the same, hosting another row of frozen foods with quick cooking times. The top drawer was full of the same brands, but the cans were opened, the boxes were torn, and the stacking was all over the place. It was obviously used as a trash can.
When Meowth rummaged through the garbage, he found a stone that’d been kept in the corner underneath it all. It was an ice type stone, commonly used for imbuing to create refrigerators like the one in his condo. That explained where the cold came from, but why convert this filing cabinet into one? They made storage devices specifically to optimize refrigeration that would certainly be better for the job.
For that matter, why did his father have so much food in his working office?
Ha! Look at you, getting all distracted by canned food! He imagined Minichino mocking him. But that wouldn’t stop him from being perturbed. Not only was he keeping food, but he was storing it somewhere inconspicuous at first glance. It was as if he didn’t want visitors to immediately know he kept food in—
And then, turning his head, he saw it next to the cabinet. A discrete, cushiony piece of furniture with short plush walls sat in the corner of the room. It was faded and torn with overuse. Meowth had never seen anything quite like it before, but its size and rimming reminded him of the nest he slept in.
This was a bed. His father would rather eat and sleep in this office than go outside. He was pulling all-nighters. How could he be this obsessed with a hotel over—?
CLANG!
He slammed the cabinet door much harder than he wanted. Shoot. Meowth clamored for the door and put his ear close. This room was supposed to be empty — if any sound reached an employee, they’d have good reason to come in and investigate.
One second of silence.
Two seconds.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps!
Meowth hastily tiptoed behind the desk and splayed behind it. He braced for what would happen next.
The footsteps walked up to the door…and then right past it. False alarm.
He heaved a sigh of relief. Meowth didn’t want to think about what would happen if he was caught.
Meowth rushed back to the cabinets, moving on to the one beside the makeshift refrigerator. The handles on this one were flush with the room’s temperature. He was careful to avoid making it creak as he slowly opened it.
A stack of folders with labeled names of both normal and human variety filled the interior of the cabinet. Separated from the others with a divider were eight files, beginning with “Breloom IV of Mithlline” and ending with “Politoed XXII of Mithlline”. Finally. This was what he was looking for.
Meowth carefully removed the Club’s files and set each one onto the floor in a row.
He pondered where he should start. Should he begin with his human roommates? His now-mysterious co-workers? Himself? No, he wanted to save it for last. It was Minichino who wanted everything else — he’d fulfill that obligation before facing his own desire.
Perhaps the best place to start would be Demurke. She had been a strange presence in his life for some time now. A hint of guilt swept over Meowth when he considered how intrusive looking into her information was, but he refused to let that stop him after years of being in the dark. He opened Demurke’s file.
The following file is a stub, the lone page inside read. The full documentation for this individual can be found in Database 430.
Oh. Well that was disappointing. He wasn’t going to get a reason behind all of those visits she paid him over the years — at least, not here. Jermy’s file turned out to be similar, although his was contained inside Database 724, whatever that meant.
He shrugged to himself. Mathew and Joey first it is.
For only being on Solceus for what was likely a matter of days, Mathew’s document was surprisingly detailed. There was a near-essay inside detailing everything he’d done in Kalmwa’er so far. Meowth wanted to comb over this word-for-word, if only to better understand how to resolve the tension between them, but he was pressed for time. He just took photos of each page, catching cursory glances to each as he did so.
The words “science division” and “military division” kept appearing on each page. Strange. He got the science part, as SEAS was Mr. Persian’s business partner, but…military?
The most significant paper in this was at the back of the file, describing Mathew’s candidacy for recruitment. Right beneath Mathew’s name was the line “Reference: B.L.” Meowth had never heard that abbreviation before…
Out of curiosity, he promptly moved to Joey’s file and flipped through an almost identical essay. The line beneath Joey’s name in the equivalent page was “Reference: B.L. affiliate”.
B.L. He would have to tell Joey that abbreviation later. There was nothing here about their actual histories on Earth, but maybe it’d be a clue for him.
Next was Politoed’s file. The document was much smaller than either of the previous two, only lasting a single page with a simple blurb. Not surprising — what was there to say about Politoed? He’s so perfect he’s unremarkable. Meowth bet all that would be in his file was some praise for his hard work and—
Risk Level: One — Observe.
…What?
A confused study of his profile gave Meowth some ideas on what had gotten Politoed that label. The author of these documents felt that there was a noticeable lack of background information on his past leading up to his position. Additionally, they found his proactiveness in joining the Club so shortly after its founding unusual. When he checked Breloom’s, it gave a very similar story.
Normally, Meowth would be quick to dismiss such suspicion. Politoed and Breloom were just some people who moved in from out-of-town to study in the Kalmwa’er School of Higher Education — what ‘background’ could they possibly have? But that note Minichino had on her was definitely written by his former dormmate. And, when he thought about it…Politoed and Breloom didn’t talk about their homes a lot.
But that probably wasn’t important. In Higher Ed, you talk about your home life with friends. Meowth was not their friend.
It wasn’t until he opened Minichino’s file that he realized just how big it was. The chronicling of her life was almost obsessive in detail. There were sections describing her environmentalist philosophies, a vague description of her family members, and her current membership at the Kalmwa’er Church of Arceus. Meowth didn’t think of her as the religious type — it never came up during work.
What disturbed him was that this file was much older than the Club. Some were dated as far back as the early 2050s, when Minichino should’ve been a young child. It made him feel weird looking at them, so he averted his eyes while he snapped photos.
The last page was where her risk level was marked: “Three — Moderate”. The words “Prevent her from information collection at all costs” popped out at him towards the bottom. It was crossed out with ink, and a note had been written next to it saying “under control”.
Considering he was here, they didn’t have it as under control as they thought.
All that was left was his own document. He was so eager before, but now? These documents spoke of militaries and risk levels and background checks and…very not-hotel-like business. This was something so much bigger.
Was he…wrong about the reason behind Mr. Persian’s departure from his life? No, no. He had to…
He threw his file open.
Mutual Agreement of Familial Uninvolvement
Meowth’s grip on the first page tightened. His heart raced as he skimmed through the document with baited breath. The contract illustrated a deal where “OCEAN” would avoid involving the signer’s family with the company’s business as long as the signer made their own effort to prevent their family doing so. It was a horrific exchange.
Signed: Persian I of Kalmwa’er
Proof of Witness: Emily Prest
…And his father had agreed to sign it for the sake of his resort.
Meowth took the last photos of the documents, staring at them with wide eyes. Mr. Persian didn’t just set him aside for selfish reasons — he signed deals to make it happen. All part of keeping him away from whatever this all was. What did his father even want, interacting with all these humans?
Answers for his motivations were so beyond him that the cat saw little point in trying to understand them here. Right now, he needed to get out of here before he was spotted.
Meowth carefully placed the folders back and slowly pushed open the door. Peer to the right…peer to the left…still, nobody. He would have wondered what left these halls so barren at dawn, but he was just glad to have such good luck at this point.
Unfortunately, once he was back on the ground floor, his luck ran out.
The moment he pushed the door to the fitness room open, the sound of Jermy and ORB chattering filled his ears. Meowth wanted to panic, but keeping a level head was the only way out of this. He needed to improvise fast.
He flung himself onto one of the bipedal treadmills and flipped it on, not caring that it was clearly sized for a pokémon much larger than him. He tossed the camera behind the thing and started running, hoping his previous nerves could be mistaken for exhaustion.
“…And then I’m gonna — oh, Meowth!” All at once, Jermy sounded surprised at his presence, bemused by the sight of his layabout self running on a treadmill, and very much like he wished he wasn’t in this room. He was carrying some kind of strange machine, but Meowth couldn’t get a good look at it and run at the same time. “What are you scampering in here for?”
“Exercise,” he answered. “I wanted to get a jog in before work.”
The pikachu cocked his head and his arms. “Huh. Never thought you were the kind of guy to get a workout!”
Usually you just lay around all day, Meowth figured he was thinking right now.
“Is it wrong for me to want to try something different?”
“You can try anything you want,” ORB said, rolling towards the end of the room, “if you can explain why this door is hanging open.”
“I dunno,” he deflected. “It was like that when I got here.” That technically wasn’t a lie.
ORB looked at the door frame, then turned to Jermy. “I wonder whose fault that is?”
“Hey, I locked the door just like I was supposed to!” Jermy exclaimed. “I pushed the door open, and… Huh.” The realization flashed on his face. “Right. Whoops.”
“Maybe if you weren’t so busy whining over the size of a glorified wrist watch, you would have remembered,” ORB snided.
Jermy heaved. “Look. It’s just a door. No one’ll know if I just forgot to lock a door for ten minutes, right?”
“I hope so. Remember when we first went up to Mr. Persian’s office and I said ‘Wow, this floor is so comically underprotected, I could sneak in myself’? It would be very embarrassing if somebody found their way up there.”
Meowth hoped the intensity of his sprint would hide his grimace. That robot was absolutely on to him. This was bad. What could he say to get him off his tail…?
“Hey, don’t sweat it too much!”
Meowth took Minichino’s arrival as an excuse to cut the treadmill off, leaping for the power button.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on this door the whole time,” she told Jermy. “Not a soul going in or out!”
“Oh, uh… Nice!” Jermy said. He leaned his body away from Minichino, hiding whatever it was in his arms from her.
Meowth tried to play along. “You’ve been watching me walk?”
She crossed her arms. “Hey, I already wrapped up the Club preparation! It’s not like I have anything better to do!”
He couldn’t tell if she was really that smarmy or if she was just playing it up.
“Aaaanyways,” Jermy cut in, “we’ve got places to be! See you in a bit!” He rushed to the door entrance, cradling the contraption tightly. Past the whir of the treadmill, Meowth could hear the click of the lock.
After a few seconds, Minichino sighed in relief, before looking at him firmly. “How’d you do?”
Meowth hopped off the treadmill, letting its spin slow to a stop, and picked up the camera. He held it up for her. “There were some beautiful views up there.”
The cat expected a snide comment from Minichino, boasting about how she had just saved him from being caught — but she just crossed her arms, nodding with approval. “Thanks a lot! You really dunno how much of a help this is.”
Meowth simply shrugged. “I got what I wanted, I guess.”
Mission accomplished…but what would it mean for them now?
“Aaaaand… Go!”
Mathew smacked his finger on the ‘enter’ key of the bulky wrist watch wrapped loosely around his left hand. From the top of the machine came a black bolt that shot into the open air of the Waregle and then dissolved. Trailing it was a black-colored opening, following its path like a pair of invisible zippers, one opening and closing. The rift, a product of months of experimentation, only existed for a mere two seconds.
Mathew was met with a modest applause by the crowd — his coworkers, Emily, and now David. The group had stopped the decidueye as he was wiping away debris left by the crowd so he could get a look.
“Very impressive!” he remarked, taking a handful from a bag of popcorn he was holding. “It resembles several of our drafts for portable portal devices. To get this far without any help is an achievement!”
Mathew nodded. “Yeah. As I was trying to explain before, if we can’t rewire your existing portal network, then this would be a fine alternative. If I can get the Wormhole Wristlet to make a stable portal, I could take Joey back to Earth, get him his memories back, and bam, problem solved. We could even do it for the other recruits, too.” And he didn’t even have to do anything particularly painful! Other than figure out how to make a portal work without a frame, obviously.
Joey stared at the Wristlet in awe. “So that tiny little thing can really take me over yonder to Earth…? Wow.” He seemed relieved.
Emily didn’t disapprove of Mathew’s proposition, although she looked rather contemplative for a reason Mathew couldn’t discern. “It’s interesting. I had sworn we agreed not to include…”
David’s beak wasn’t as flexible as human lips, but even Mathew could see him mouth “we did” to her. That seemed to stop the empoleon from clarifying.
“Still, if this is what must be done to resolve your unease, then so be it. You should see to finishing that project as soon as possible.”
Jermy scratched his head. “A frameless rift… How would we make that work?”
David heaved, seeming irritated by his own uncertainty. “I have an idea, but I’m not sure you’ll like it.”
Mathew looked up at him, lowering his arm weighted down by the machine. Had David already seen a flaw in his plan? “Why’s that?”
“This Wristlet project of yours can form the cut between worlds, but you’re missing a frame to hold it open. Here on Solceus, though, there might be a way around that.”
“Oh!” Jermy’s cheeks sparked in tandem with his ‘eureka’ moment. “Psychic type stones?”
“I was about to say it myself!” David eyed Jermy with a wry grin. The pikachu didn’t try to match it. “As you saw with Kell, the psychic type grants various mind-controlled abilities, like lifting objects, or hypnotizing people. In many cases, the equivalent stone allows objects to be influenced by the mental willpower of any pokémon.”
Mathew tried to stay still, hoping it’d hide how much he tensed at that detail. “So you’re saying, if I imbued this with a psychic type stone, I could…hold the portal open with my mind?”
Joey looked between the trio of scientists, pretending like he understood any of this. “I don’t get how that works, but if it gets the Wristlet done quick and easy, I ain’t gonna complain.”
“It would be easy, but…” Emily cut in. “I recall hearing from our associates that psychic type stones are exceedingly rare due to the power they contain.”
David nodded. “That’s the catch. We can search for the stone…but there’s a chance we won’t find it in time.” He turned to the recruits. “We need a backup plan.”
Mathew grimaced. The cubone had thought that he had finally found an easy solution, but if they didn’t get that psychic stone in time, what was he going to do…?
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