Greetings once more, dear reader!
Allow me, the Narrator, to welcome you back to the fantastic future world of Pokémon!
So in our last episode---uh, oops! Sorry. Old habits die hard! Forgive me, I must get myself together; looks like I'm a little rusty!
Well, the last time we got together for a nice read, ten years had passed since you'd gotten a peek into the world of Pokémon because our show had finally gone off the air. Well, new episodes at least; I suppose there will always be reruns. But don't worry; I'm not bitter about it at all. Considering how warmly I was welcomed back in our first little get-together; it was like I'd never left! Thank you! You like me, you really like me! (sniff!)
Ahem! Lots of things had changed for our heroes and villains, as you can imagine! Brock and Misty have left a life on the road behind. They've settled down and assumed the mantle of Gym Leader in their respective hometowns. Brock has even found a loving wife in the form of Duplica, and their first child is on the way!
Jessie and James have gone straight, gotten hitched, and just had their first childbirth. Twins, no less! Ah, so many babies lately---sniff The miracle of life! Let me get a tissue, just a second---(Honk!)
Oh, and let me apologize to all you readers for misspelling Jessie's name before. When she approached me about the subject, I said, "Well, you say tomato, I say toy-mato---" What she replied was far too salty for a kid-friendly show like ours. Has the swelling in my black eye gone down yet, by the way?
Anyhow, there's no more Team Rocket to cause trouble for them or anybody else! Yep, Ash has had it pretty easy the last few years, even considering his duties as part of the Indigo Plateau's Elite Four. But things have really revved up all of a sudden! He's finally got the guts to propose to Misty; and hot on the heels of that big change in his life, Ash might have uncovered the truth of his father's fate---and he doesn't like it. Not one little bit!
So on that note, allow me to guide you as we look in again on the future world of Pokémon!
Pokémon:
The Vision of His Future
by
Keith E. Kimball
The weather was being particularly kind to Pallet Town as day softly gave way to night. A light frosting of clouds just thick enough to send shafts of light filtering through themselves and onto the growing city was spread from horizon to horizon. The clouds seemed a little undecided; not dark enough to rain but too black to ignore. Thus shielded somewhat from the sun, the town found itself warmly nestling into its surrounding forest-covered hills and gentle coastline to enjoy a quiet sunset.
At least, most of Pallet Town, anyway.
For in one modest home, things were looking a little less rosy and a lot more harried.
Ash Ketchum was trying desperately to tie his necktie. His image in the mirror of his mother's dresser kept grimacing at him, literally reflecting his discomfort at wearing his own tuxedo. At least the old-fashioned tails, hanging down nearly to the back of his knees, mimicked his usual cowboy duster and restored some personal comfort. And if he could get this stupid tie on, he could put on his white formal gloves next. No way could he get away with wearing any sort of hat, however. He felt naked without it.
Passing by in the corridor, Delia glanced in. She stopped to sigh at her son, "Ash, would you like a hand with that?"
He glanced over at her, taking a split second to be envious. Delia hadn't forgotten about the big event; she'd had plenty of time to get ready. No last-minute rush culminating in a hurried Teleport (courtesy of Togetic) just to get to Pallet Town, either. By now Ash was starting to wish they'd gotten ready back in Cerulean City first.
Ash had to admit that his mom looked very pretty with her simple, elegant black dress on. Although she worked out regularly to keep her slender figure intact, Delia was a modest woman and the cut of her dress reflected that fact. So did her dark-colored pantyhose and full-length gloves. Unlike Ash, she seemed quite at ease in her hardly-used formal wear. Of course, a couple rows of necklaces, some nice earrings, and her hair pulled up into a formal but fashionable style helped offset the age lines starting on her eyes and mouth. He suddenly noticed the grey hair creeping into her temples was more pronounced than when he'd seen her last, nearly a month before.
Stubbornly, Ash returned to trying to position the necktie with the mirror's aid. Not to mention to avoid staring at her grey hairs any longer. "No, Mom, I've got it," he assured her, "I've gone to a lot of Arcanine and Ponyta shows as part of the Elite Four, you know."
She leaned on her bedroom's doorjamb, watching Ash continue to fiddle with the offending article of clothing, as a gentle grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. "And let me guess; that nice lady Karen usually tied it for you?"
Letting his hands drop, Ash confessed, "Yeah."
"Come here," Delia advised as she stepped forward, hands outstretched. She hadn't failed to note Ash's stare; Delia just accepted her prematurely graying hairdo as a normal part of life. She still wasn't sure she was used to how tall her son was now, however. Only her medium-length high heels let her claim a couple inches of superiority at the moment. Delia took a second to cast a maternal eye of assessment over her son, noting he was maintaining the athletic build of a runner. Good, good, she thought.
As she worked, she chided gently, "You should just leave it tied all the time."
"I tried," Ash responded with a little grin of his own, "But somehow it always gets undone on me. I think it hates me."
"There," Delia smoothed the tie and set Ash's shirt collar over it, "Perfect!" Suddenly remembering her other charge, Delia turned back to the hallway. She called over her shoulder, "Go get the car out of the garage, please—the keys are on the kitchen table, next to my purse."
Ash considered going with her to check on his bride-to-be, but a glance at his watch reminded him of just how late they'd become. He settled for pulling his gloves on before doing as his mother bid him. As he left the bedroom behind, Ash noticed Pikachu bounding up the hallway to meet him. The diminutive electric mouse also had a tie (albeit a little bow-tie, really) and collar on, but since Pokémon didn't normally wear clothing at all, that was all that Pikachu had to live with. Sort of made Ash jealous just this once, actually.
As Pikachu fell into step with his master, Ash grinned, "Did Mom tie that for you, too?"
"Pikachu!" the little creature chirped in confirmation.
Meanwhile, Delia stopped outside her bathroom's closed door to gently knock with one knuckle. "Feeling better, dear?" she called through the wooden obstacle.
Misty Williams managed to pull the door open. Delia was pleased to see that although she was a little shaky and a bit flushed in the face, her future daughter-in-law had gotten her own evening dress on.
It was Misty's favorite design; the dress echoed the elegant lines of a Goldeen. Most of the dress, including the strapless bodice, was pure white. The floor-length skirt was tight about halfway down her thighs until it billowed out in an imitation of ruffled fins tinged with red. And the once-skinny tomboy now sported a fair figure to show off with it. Misty also had her best necklace on, accentuating the peek of her cleavage. She hadn't had the time or energy to change her hairdo from its usual twin crescents framing her face; just her earrings were different.
Misty pulled herself up to her full height. With her own long dress heels on, it made Misty eye-to-eye with Delia for once. The movement made Misty's head swim a little. She was forced to lean on the doorjamb slightly. "Yes," she responded with a wan smile, "I think I'm better, now. Nothing left to throw up, I suppose."
Delia cocked her head to one side, her expression bemused yet inscrutable. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay home tonight? I can whip up a little something, Ash will be fine by himself."
The redhead smiled again at her future husband's mother as she smoothed her skirt a little. "After all this effort to get here? Ash would kill me. And it's bad enough we're late because of me." Turning back toward the bathroom cabinet for a dab of perfume, Misty used her spare hand to rub her flat, hard stomach gingerly. "I've heard of teleport sickness before," she continued with forced cheerfulness, "I was always afraid of it; never liked to have Togetic do it. Guess it finally caught up to me---but we'd have never made it otherwise. Sorry to be such trouble, Delia. And thanks for calling again. If you hadn't, we'd have missed the opening night entirely."
Once more Delia stepped forward, helping Misty pull on her elbow-length gloves. "Hmm, teleport sickness, yes," Delia cooed gently, "Is there something about your little—illness—you and Ash aren't telling me, dear?"
For a second, Misty stopped to give Delia a very quizzical look. "No. Why?"
"Are you sure?" Delia was careful to meet Misty's gaze directly, drawing up her own eyebrows in her best trustworthy expression. Something about the little glimmer dancing in Delia's wide brown eyes said she already knew exactly what was going on here; she just wanted to be officially let into the loop.
A little touch of her irritation over getting so sick, so fast, colored Misty's voice as she responded to this bizarre questioning. "I'm not sure what you mean, Delia."
"Oh." Delia's face fell and the glimmer dimmed as she pondered this for a moment. Misty took advantage of the reprieve to put on some lipstick. But she knew Delia's measuring look wasn't missing a single movement. Misty found herself blushing slightly (although she wasn't sure why) when she finally dared meet the elder woman's eyes once more.
Finally Delia reached over to open the bathroom cabinet. She tapped a box on the shelf with one finger, adding softly, "Perhaps you'd like to check before we go out tonight, dear. Ash should have the car out by now; we'll be waiting there." And as Delia left, Misty noted the return of a little spring to the other woman's step. She couldn't see Delia's face to confirm if it was a renewed surge of hope that caused it or not but she was pretty sure she knew the answer anyway.
Although she still wondered what the heck this was all about.
Until she looked into the cabinet and saw it was a home pregnancy test.
Misty felt her face turn white. Suddenly all those jokes Delia had made at their last meeting, the ones about Misty being doomed to visit the maternity ward soon, weren't so funny anymore.
With hands suddenly trembling even more than they had when her nausea had gripped her before, she reached for the box.
--Then--
Nearly thirty-four years earlier---
Beneath the Viridian City Gym lay a small complex of sub-basements. Storage, the furnace and water heaters, electrical components; very ordinary things. Very boring, very common things that just about any Pokémon Gym had just about anywhere in the world.
But beneath that; well, that was a completely different story.
The location of Team Rocket's world-wide headquarters was one of the most closely guarded secrets in the entire organization. It was kept that way by being mostly a information and human resources control center. Only the most important, most trustworthy field agents would actually come to headquarters in those days. The rest received communications through so many doubled and rerouted avenues that even the most determined Officer Jenny couldn't track it all back to its source.
And one of the main reasons for keeping that bit of information safe was to keep an even deeper, darker secret. For once an observer knew the Where, they could easily guess the Who. Who was in charge of Team Rocket, that is. Indeed, how could the Viridian City Gym Leader be unaware of the evil group operating right out of her building?
But with the secret safe, only those who actually worked within those hallowed halls knew the true identity of their leader. Those without answered to a shadowy figure they knew simply as Madam Boss.
There was, however, one person who was different. He was not a field agent. He was not an office worker. In fact he wasn't an official member of Team Rocket in any capacity whatsoever.
Still he knew exactly who Madam was and where she worked to boot.
Giovanni was priding himself on this fact very much at the moment. It made the ten-year-old boy feel a lot better. As if he wasn't being led by Madam's secretary through the hallways for just any old boring reason. Instead of having to sit and wait for The Boss to finish her work. No, he was on his way for an important mission. Yeah, that was it. Because he knew stuff, and he was important, just like Madam Boss herself.
In reality, of course, how could he not know Madam Boss' true identity? She was his mother, after all.
Giovanni did his best to keep that thought from popping up and bothering his little vision of future glory.
Oh, great. Now Madam's secretary had stopped at a corridor junction, engaging some guy in conversation. The two adults seemed very interested in each other. Giovanni got the feeling their talk could take awhile. He wished he was important enough that she wouldn't delay like that. Maybe he should tell Madam Boss about it; surely she thought Giovanni was important. Surely---
His boredom and frustration increasing, Giovanni tuned in to the adults' conversation for lack of anything better to do.
The young man was saying, "---but I can't tonight; probably not for awhile after either. I'm off on an assignment."
"Again?" the secretary quizzed, "With who?"
"Calamity Jane," the youth responded.
Immediately the secretary laughed. "Glad I'm not stuck with an awful nickname like that," she added.
Giovanni found himself striding over inbetween the two. He was tall for his age, but still far below the grown-ups. His face was about even with the secretary's rib cage; he had to stare upwards to meet her gaze unflinchingly. Giovanni still charged with all the seriousness he could muster, "Don't call her that. Her codename is Agent 13, and she's the best field agent Madam Boss has!"
A condescending smile quickly formed on the woman's lips. She nodded to her own suitor, still smiling, "Oh, my! Looks like Calamity Jane has herself a gentleman caller!" Then she put both hands on the small of her own back before arching herself upwards a bit. Thus emphasizing the way her uniform pulled taut across her bustline mere inches from Giovanni's face, the secretary added, "But I suppose you are at that age when you start noticing girls, hmm?"
Giovanni's face flushed, but not just with anger. He hadn't thought of it until the woman mentioned it, but he had been thinking about Jane a lot lately. Something about her voice, perhaps, or maybe even her shape. For despite being nearly as old as Madam Boss (downright ancient in the boy's opinion), Jane had a very girlish shape; even more so than the secretary facing him.
He had also been wondering why it mattered to him all of sudden. It's not like it was a secret that girls were built very differently from boys, after all. It was what made them girls to start with. Before it hadn't mattered; it was simply a fact of the world. Like the sun being yellow and grass being green.
Yet lately it had seemed far more important than ever before. Sort of.
The grown-ups recognized the flash of embarrassed appreciation for the woman's display in his eyes. They laughed again, harder and meaner, which only fanned the flames of Giovanni's sudden anger. "I'm not her caller!" he barked back, "I'm not a gentleman either! And you should show her some respect!"
A cool female voice drifted down the corridor, "Perhaps you could spare some respect for the young master as well."
The adults snapped to attention, their faces reddening quickly.
Giovanni whirled to spy the form of Jane Miyamoto herself standing nonchalantly just around the corner. As always, she wore her Team Rocket uniform with confidence and ease. The fact that she had a bulky long-term camping backpack, stuffed with necessary equipment, strapped onto her back didn't diminish Jane's poise one bit. One hand on her hip, the other gently stroking her chin, Jane surveyed the scene for a long moment. Dark green eyes, framed by a huge hairdo dyed bright purple, watched wryly.
For some reason he couldn't pin down, Giovanni felt a little ashamed that Jane had overheard his part of the conversation too. He backed up a little to the secretary's side, unconsciously joining the group of Jane's victims.
Jane let go of her chin in favor of shooing Giovanni safely up the corridor a little. He retreated gratefully.
For a moment more, Jane let her subordinates squirm. The twin projections of her hairdo were frozen by her hairspray in the act of racing straight down, then curling up on themselves just past her shoulders. At the moment, they looked more like big devilish ram's horns than ponytails, swaying slightly to catch up with the rest of Jane as she finally moved slowly forward.
Gently, she asked of her fellows, " 'Calamity' Jane, is it?"
The youth responded as if he was facing a drill sergeant. Which, Giovanni supposed, he was. "Yes, ma'am! Because it's such a calamity for Team Rocket's enemies when you show up! Ma'am!"
"Is that so?" Jane wondered very carefully. Hand back to her chin, she seemed to ponder this for a moment. Then Jane asked smoothly, "And would that be the only reason, hmm?"
The two being interrogated were close enough to each other that the boy could elbow the girl's back for a response without Jane seeing. The secretary responded to the prompting, "Yes, Agent 13!"
"Really?" Jane effused, "And here I thought it might have something to do with my fondness for the Old West. Don't tell me I've bored either of you with my tales from history, have I? Or are you two trying to say I'm getting a little long in the tooth—perhaps a bit of history—myself?" Jan leaned forward slightly, scrutinizing their faces closely.
The couple couldn't decide on the best response to that. They remained silent and, to their credit, strictly poker-faced.
Satisfied, Jane pretended to mull it over a little. "Calamity Jane," she finally observed, "I think I like it."
Her victims deflated; just a little.
Until Jane added, "I think I'll mention it to The Boss. If she likes it too, all well and good. But if she happens to think it might defame the reputation of Team Rocket, well---" Jane spread her hands helplessly with a little knowing grin before finishing, "Perhaps she could find a way to make you take your responsibilities to the team more seriously."
The girl was quick to bark, "We do take our jobs very seriously, Agent 13!"
"Do you?" Jane's eyes grew sharp as a scalpel. Her accusing finger poked not the secretary, but her fellow field agent right in the chest. "Where's your equipment? Have you even been to Supply yet? You don't look ready for our assignment at all, young man!"
The boy's face turned white, "Agent 13, may I be excused to get---?"
"Go!" she barked. But as the boy moved to go past her, she grabbed his shoulder and pulled his face close to hers. "Keep in mind," Jane spoke in a very low, serious voice, "I don't have time to replace you or you'd be off my team right now. You've got a chance to impress me. Don't waste it." Receiving a nod, Jane let him go. The youth set off up the hallway as quickly as if a Blaziken had set fire to his shorts.
Any relief the secretary might've felt was short-lived. "And you," Jane rounded on her smoothly, "Bad enough you're holding up my coworker from his assignment, but you're keeping Madam waiting for her own son too! I doubt she appreciates having her valuable time wasted."
"Ma'am!" the secretary returned, "May I be excused! Come, Giovanni---"
"I don't think so," Jane interjected calmly.
"Ma'am?" the younger woman replied, horror spreading across her face.
"You have my team's travel arrangements to make," Jane pointed out, "Since you were taking so horribly long, I left the details on your desk. Run ahead and get on it, now! I'll take charge of Master Giovanni."
"Yes, Agent 13!" the secretary double-timed it away gratefully.
Finally, Jane turned to Giovanni. "And as for you, young sir," she began.
Giovanni automatically recoiled for her outstretched mitt, but Jane wanted a handshake, not to give him a rebuke. He clasped her hand nervously as Jane politely smiled, "Thank you for defending me; that was very kind."
The moment's simple, honest appreciation from her completed Jane's transformation from just another adult to something much more in Giovanni's eyes. The harsh lights of the corridor were dulled by the highlights of her hair; the glimmer of her eyes, the gentle glow of her clean skin. Her lips and cheeks, unadorned with makeup, still shone bright and soft. He was so close he could smell a quick waft of her perfume; the scent of a country breeze.
He realized he was still pumping her gloved hand gently with a grip akin to a cold, wet, floppy Magikarp.
Jane's eyes sparkled as she said quietly, "You can let go now."
Turning beet red, Giovanni did so.
"Come on, young master," Jane added firmly, "Time is money, and both are wasting." But as she started up the corridor, something fell from an unsecured pocket of her backpack.
Instantly, Giovanni scooped it up. Curiosity automatically made him scan the photograph. A young girl, maybe three or four, was the sole occupant of the close-up. She had on a nice dress and a very fancy hairdo, suggesting some wonderful (albeit formal) occasion. Except things must've been ruined for her somehow, as the girl was bawling her eyes out. Giovanni felt a stab of shame at seeing what was obviously a very private picture. Hoping Jane hadn't noticed him looking at it, he turned its blank side up before calling out, "Agent 13, you dropped this."
"So I did," she confirmed crisply at the sight. Gently, she extracted the photo from Giovanni's grip to study it in her own for a moment. Without a change in her expression or her voice, she showed it to him and asked politely, "Do you know who this is, Giovanni?"
Sensing the bittersweet nature of the subject, Giovanni didn't trust his voice. He shook his head "no" instead.
"This is my daughter, Jessica," Jane responded, "This picture's a little old. She's almost half your age, now." More to herself than to Giovanni, Jane continued musing, "Has it really been so long?"
Giovanni couldn't help himself. He wanted to help her again, to see Jane smile at him again. "So long since what, Agent 13?"
Jane grew very serious. She firmly put a hand on Giovanni's shoulder, but she did not bend over to level her gaze to his. The adult was, Giovanni sensed, addressing him not just seriously; but as an equal for a moment. The thought gave him a rush of pride.
"Giovanni," Jane began, "Look around you. You know what this place is, what Team Rocket stands for, what it means? Do you understand it?"
He nodded, but Jane shook her head. "No, not yet, not fully, you don't," Jane disagreed. To take the sting out of her words, she squeezed Giovanni's shoulder gently. "You're too young. But still, you are growing; and if you begin taking the things Madam Boss tells you seriously, you're off to a great start. Pay attention to her, Giovanni. She hopes you'll follow in her footsteps one day. And if that happens, you'll have to know what you're doing or you'll run everything she's built into the ground."
Giovanni's eyes bulged at the prospect, "Really? What---what can I do? To get ready, I mean?"
"Well, maybe you'll take my personal motto to heart," Jane returned, "Step #1: Profit! #2: Prioritize! #3: Economize! #4: Work hard! #5: Pokémon!" So saying, Jane tucked the photo into her uniform pocket for better keeping and set off up the corridor. Giovanni fell into step slightly behind her.
Hoping to cheer her up somehow, Giovanni observed solemnly, "I'm sure that Jessica has learned a lot from you too, Agent 13. She must be very proud to be your daughter."
Jane did not stop walking; nor did she quicken her pace. She did turn her head slightly, but the spikes of her hair still kept her expression hidden from Giovanni when she replied very quietly, "Sometimes things add up to #6: Adoption. My final lesson for you today is this, Giovanni: Learn from others' mistakes, not just their victories."
The boy did not dare question her further. For her part, the only other thing she said to Giovanni before she left on her assignment was a simple goodbye.
With that, she was gone. Her little heart-to-heart echoed in his mind every day for a week as he waited eagerly to hear her voice once more.
And then Giovanni overheard the reports told to his mother; that Jane died at the hands of Mew, the Pokémon of legend.
Jane's last words became a haunting mantra of his dreams for years to come.
Text, original characters, and events Copyright © 2006 Keith E. Kimball. This is a fan work and not for profit.
All other characters, events, and trademarks Copyright © their respective holders including but not limited to Nintendo Company Ltd., GameFreak, The Pokémon Company, Shogakukan Production Inc., 4Kids Entertainment, etc.