Okay people, I've decided to write a story! Well, not write but you know summarize into a pokemon story- anyways, I wanna see how this plays out I think its great cuz it fits pokemon really well. Has anyone ever read House of the Scorpion? Well you should anyways I'll start writing. I'm writing the prologue in this chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own pokemon and House of the Scorpion. I don't even own the words just to get it straight.
In the beginning there were thirty six droplets of them, thirty six droplets of life so tiny that Professor Oak could see them only under a microscope. He studied them anxiously in the darkened room.
Water bubbled through tubes that snaked around the warm, humid walls. Air was sucked into growth chambers. A dull, red light shone on the faces of the workers as thy watched their own arrays of little glass dishes. Each one contained a drop of life.
Professor Oak moved his dishes, one after the other, under the lens of the microscope. The cells were perfect-or so it seemed. Each was furnished with all it needed to grow. So much knowledge was hidden in that tiny world! Even Professor Oak, who understood the process very well, was awed. The cell already understood what color hair it was to have, how tall it would become, and even whether it preferred spinach or broccoli. It might even have a hazy desire for music or crossword puzzles. All that was hidden in the droplet.
Finally the round outlines quivered and the lines appeared, dividing the cells in two. Professor Oak sighed. It was going to be all right. He watched the samples grow, and then he carefully moved them to the incubator.
But it wasn't all right. Something about the food, the heat, the light was wrong, and the man didn't know what it was. Very quickly over half of them died. There was only fifteen now, and Professor Oak felt a cold lump in his stomach. If he failed, he would be sent to the farms, and then what would become of his wife and children, and his father, who was so old?
"It's okay" said Lisa, so close by that Professor Oak jumped. She was one of the senior technicians. She had worked for so many years in the dark, her face was chalk white and her blue veins were visible through her skin.
"How can it be okay?" Professor Oak said.
"The cells were frozen over a hundred years ago. They can't be as healthy as samples taken yesterday."
"That long" the man marvled.
"But some of them should grow" Lisa said sternly.
So Professor Oak began to worry again. And for a month everything went well. The day came when he implanted the tiny embryos in the brood cows. The cows were lined up, patiently waiting. They were fed by tubes, and their bodies were exercised by giant metal arms that grasped their legs and flexed them as though the cows were walking though an endless field. Now and then the animal moved its jaws in an attempt to chew cud.
Did they dream of dandelions? Professor Oak wondered. Did they feel a phantom of wind blowing tall grass against their legs?
Their brains were filled with quiet joy from implants in their skulls. Were they aware of the children growing in their wombs?
Perhaps the cows hated what they had done to them, because they certainly rejected the embryos. One after another the infants, at this point no larger than minnows died.
Until there was only one.
Professor Oak slept badly at night. He cried out in his sleep, and when his wife asked what was the matter. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't say that if his last embryo died, he would be stripped of his job. He would be sent to the farms. And his wife children and father would be cast out to walk the hot, dusty roads.
But that one embryo grew until it was clearly a being with arms and legs and a sweet, dreaming face. Professor Oak watched it through scanners. "You hold my life in your hands" he told the infant. As though it could hear, the infant flexed it's tiny body in the womb until it turned toward the man. Professor Oak felt an unreasoning stir of affection.
When the day came, Professor Oak received the newborn into his hands as though it were his own child. His eyes blurred as he laid it in a crib and reached for the needle that would blunt its intelligence.
"Don't fix that one" said Lisa hastily catching his arm. "It's an Ash Ketchum. They're always left intact."
Have I done you a favor? Thought Professor Oak as he watched the baby turn its head toward the bustling nurses in their starched, white uniforms. Will you thank me for it later?