Chapter 10 – Whitley's
The swellow led Solonn deeper into Convergence, heading for the center of town. Along the way, Solonn spotted more of the city's residents out and about. They were mostly pokémon, some of whom were using human-made devices—which was nice, he supposed, but he wished the electabuzz they passed would shut off that leaf blower sometime soon. He could still hear the thing from several blocks away.
Solonn also saw a pair of humans as he followed Jal'tai, and only a pair. It seemed that the pokémon outnumbered the humans here. As far as he could tell, though, the humans were happy to be living here. They were neither goggling nor blatantly avoiding looking at the pokémon citizens; it seemed they found nothing strange at all about the notion of pokémon outnumbering them and living their lives as if they were human themselves.
At last, Solonn and Jal'tai arrived at Whitley's. The restaurant was a large, country-styled building with a fairly sizable, nearly empty parking lot. Above the entrance was a sign depicting an elderly, goateed man's smiling face. The words "Whitley's Family Restaurant" were spelled out beside the portrait—twice: once in what Solonn recognized as a form of human writing and once in a curious, unfamiliar script that seemed to be made up of eyes, with bars radiating out from them in varying shapes and at varying angles.
Solonn was able to read the first script just as he could whenever he'd seen it before, so he wasn't terribly surprised that he could read the second script, as well. But there was more to his comprehension of the eyed letters than mere literacy, and he recognized this immediately.
Puzzled, he brought the matter up with Jal'tai. "That second kind of writing, there on that sign… There's something different about it. I don't know how to explain it other than that it just feels… more natural to read somehow."
"Ah. I suppose you've never seen unown-script before." Jal'tai smiled. "Well, Mr. Zgil-Al, there is a reason why it feels natural to read. It is our written language, the script of pokémon. Allow me to explain. The unown are a species of pokémon who are credited as the ones who eradicated many of the communication barriers between the peoples of the world. Many pokémon, myself included, believe that it was they who blessed the differing races of pokémon with the ability to understand both one another's languages and the spoken languages of humans. But for some reason, their blessing failed to touch humans, leaving them unable to understand pokémon speech.
"The unown tried to solve the problem through the creation of a universal written language, a process so demanding that it apparently forced them to evolve to that specific end. They developed special written characters that they infused with a mysterious quality meant to render them instantly comprehensible to both pokémon and humans alike. And it worked, too, at least under some circumstances; with it, pokémon have been able to convey messages to humans that they could otherwise never receive. Sadly, the script failed to catch on—perhaps the cultures that used it were conquered or decimated by humans who trained pokémon to fight for them rather than communicating and living in harmony with them," the swellow added, bitterness seeping into his tone.
"Anyhow," he finished, "though the script fell short of a perfect solution, it was successful enough that we saw fit to celebrate and honor the unown and their tremendous efforts toward interspecies understanding by using unown-script as a sort of official 'language' of our city. All citizens are required to memorize all of its symbols, humans and pokémon alike."
Solonn took another look at the sign and its message in unown-script, intrigued and quite impressed. That an entire species would literally transform itself in the name of promoting universal communication… He wondered what it would be like to actually meet one of them. What could he learn from them—especially given his own relationship with the concept of universal communication?
His eyes widened. Wait…
"Tell me, Mr. Zgil-Al," Jal'tai spoke up crisply, interrupting Solonn's reverie almost as soon as it had begun, "when you mentioned that unown-script felt 'different to read'… did you mean as compared to human writing? I've always hoped to meet another who is human-literate just as I am."
Solonn just barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping open. Stupid! he scolded himself. He fumbled internally for a means to repair any damage done. "Oh… no, I can't read that," he finally said, his words tumbling out a bit faster than he'd intended. "I just guessed that it said the same thing that it said below in the unown-script."
"Hmm…" the swellow responded. "Well, perhaps if you're interested, I could teach you to read human-script sometime, hmm? In the meantime… I daresay we've tarried outside for long enough. Why wait a moment longer when food's right inside? Come on, then!"
Solonn followed Jal'tai to the thankfully large front doors, which opened for them automatically. They entered the restaurant, which was warmly lit by a large number of hanging, stained-glass lamps, and were immediately greeted by a hitmonchan in a tuxedo.
"Ah! You grace our presence in person yet again!" the hitmonchan exclaimed. "And this gentleman is your guest?" he asked, at which Jal'tai nodded. "Very well, then. Please, let me show you to your usual table."
The hitmonchan beckoned them toward the back of the restaurant. They passed a table where a female human sat feeding small morsels of meat to a baby makuhita in a high chair that barely accommodated him. Solonn spotted an area off in one corner of the restaurant that was enclosed by slightly tinted, soft plastic walls with a zippered door flap. Inside, several koffing and grimer laughed around a pile of something slimy and rotten-looking beneath a large exhaust fan. In another corner, two magnemite contently orbited a peculiar, seven-foot-tall, towerlike structure that hummed faintly with electricity.
Jal'tai's "usual table" was located in a private room in the very back of the restaurant. The room was decorated with paintings of landscapes on every wall and a potted shrub in every corner. A modest chandelier hung above the table in the center of the room, with small light bulbs rather than candles shining in its arms.
Jal'tai perched atop his seat, his talons gripping the back of his chair while his tail feathers draped over it toward the floor. Solonn, being quite large, quite heavy, and just not equipped for sitting in chairs in general, merely pushed the one at the opposite end of the table aside and sat down in its place, grateful to be out of the air again after all the traveling he'd done lately.
"Your orders, then, sirs?" the hitmonchan prompted.
"Oh, it'll be the Cerulean fish platter for me. Yes, again," Jal'tai said with another of his chuckles. "And for him… oh, just give him the Specialty of the House to start with. And you know where to send the bill, of course."
"Yes, sir!" the hitmonchan confirmed enthusiastically, then departed their table and the room.
"Isn't it refreshing to see pokémon holding occupations other than 'gladiator'?" Jal'tai said wistfully. He sighed. "Alas, the indignities we suffer at the hands of humans… Which reminds me, Mr. Zgil-Al: what of those humans from whom you escaped? Do you have any idea what their motives might've been?"
Solonn was taken a bit by surprise even though he hadn't exactly expected that his abduction wouldn't come up again; he'd just rather strongly hoped it wouldn't. Recovering quickly enough, "No idea whatsoever," he lied. "Frankly, I'm glad I never got the chance to find out."
"Indeed," Jal'tai said. "You've certainly been spared a most degrading fate."
You don't know the half of it… Solonn held Jal'tai's gaze for a moment more, then let his eyes flit about from one painting on the wall to another in the awkward silence that hung in the air until Jal'tai spoke again.
"You mentioned fleeing from Lilycove… I've not heard of an ice-type colony anywhere in that vicinity—believe me, as a flying-type I would make sure to find out about it!" Jal'tai said with a laugh. "No offense, of course," he added quickly but coolly.
"Meh," Solonn responded, not really bothered.
"Anyhow, you were brought into Lilycove by these humans from someplace else, then, correct?" the swellow asked.
"Well…" Solonn hesitated for a moment, but then supposed that there was no real harm in mentioning Morgan, though he opted against using her name. "Not by those humans, but yes, I was brought to Lilycove by a human." He mindfully chose the word "brought" rather than "taken"; Jal'tai clearly had a less than favorable attitude toward humans, especially those who kept pokémon. Solonn figured it was probably prudent to choose his words carefully; he didn't want the swellow to speak ill of Morgan. "I lived with her for several months. She really was a decent person. I won't lie about it—I do miss her…" He sighed. "She must be horribly worried about me…"
"Do you think you'll ever return to her?" Jal'tai asked quietly.
"I don't know," Solonn answered truthfully. "I mean, I'd like to, sure. I just don't know if Lilycove will ever be safe for me again… those people are still out there, and I don't know if they'll ever be caught."
"Let us hope they will be, at any rate," Jal'tai said soberly. Solonn nodded in agreement.
Their food arrived then, the hitmonchan deftly balancing a wide tray upon his large hands. The waiter set a ceramic platter partly covered in fish fillets in front of Jal'tai and an odd, wooden pedestal in front of Solonn. On top of the pedestal sat a large, raw steak. The hitmonchan then provided each of them with a saucer of water.
"I'll be back shortly," he said merrily. "When I return, you just let me know if you need anything else, okay?" With that, he left the room.
Solonn eyed the pedestal, puzzled. "What is this thing?"
"Hmm?" was Jal'tai's muffled response; he already had a large chunk of fish in his beak. He swallowed it. "Oh yes, that. It's just something to make it a little easier for those without limbs to enjoy their meal, particularly someone like yourself—I can see where you'd experience some difficulty plucking meat off a plate as I'm doing."
Solonn's eyes shifted the tiny distance upward from the pedestal to the steak itself. "So… this is meat, then?"
"Mmm-hmm," the swellow confirmed through another bite of fish. "I imagine you're unused to it being cut and processed in such a manner, but I assure you, it is meat."
Solonn made a small, wordless noise of acknowledgment. So… this thing before him had once been a part of a living creature. Trepidation fluttered in the vicinity of his heart as he continued to stare at the steak.
Once again, his internal advocate for predation chose to speak up. It's what's right for you, you know.
Solonn continued to eye the steak uneasily. Part of him couldn't help but try and picture what the former owner of this flesh had looked like before being slaughtered.
Come on—it's not like you killed whatever they were, was the internal argument.
That angle fell just short of mollifying him. He cast a quick glance at Jal'tai and found that the swellow was temporarily neglecting his fish fillets to gaze back at him concernedly.
"Are you quite all right?" he asked. "You haven't touched your Specialty there."
"Er…" Solonn began, pausing as he swallowed nervously. "…I was just trying to figure out what's so 'special' about it…" he half-muttered, inwardly cursing himself a bit for not coming up with a better response. Still, he preferred it to telling the truth. It shamed him somewhat to admit it to himself, but the fact was he was disinclined to confess—and perhaps have to justify—his reservations about eating meat.
"Well, taste it and you'll find out!" Jal'tai said with the swellow equivalent of a beaming grin.
Solonn shut his eyes briefly, battling an urge to grimace. Until he started eating, the swellow would probably continue to press the issue. He wasn't eager to go through with it, but he was all too aware of the swellow's eyes upon him.
At least it hasn't got eyes, the other faction of his mind told him. At least it can't look back at you.
Solonn sighed heavily. There might as well have been two in his company who wouldn't relent until he dug in. The fact that one of those persistent voices was actually a part of him didn't help matters.
Silently, he rose from the floor and looked down at the steak. With a flash of light in his eyes, it froze instantly. Closing his eyes involuntarily, he lowered his face toward it and took it into his mouth.
It didn't taste like he'd expected. He'd thought it would have the sharpest, most foul flavor imaginable. Instead it was actually rather bland. Solonn vaguely wondered if his brain had done him a favor and temporarily weakened his sense of taste.
As he began to chew, he tried very hard not to think about exactly what he was grinding between his teeth. It's just ice, he tried to convince himself, that's all… He wanted to rush it down his throat as quickly as he could, but his gullet seemed possessed of contrary urges. It took a few attempts to force the meat down.
Solonn opened his eyes again, only realizing then that he'd had them closed the whole time. Jal'tai was smiling at him, looking satisfied.
"Was it to your liking?" the swellow asked.
Solonn gave a quick nod, wondering if anything in his expression was contradicting the gesture. His eyes traveled downward to the saucer of water. Some good, fresh ice sounded like a good idea right about then.
He was glad that water had been provided for him to freeze; he'd spend a bit less effort doing that than he would've spent generating ice out of thin air. He stared intently at it, and within mere moments it changed into a stalk of ice rising from the middle of the saucer. He nipped it off as close to the dish as he could, then sat back down as he crunched it up.
The hitmonchan returned and immediately set about removing the cleared plates and pedestal as well as Solonn's saucer, leaving Jal'tai's largely ignored saucer where it sat. "Is there anything else I can get for you gentlemen?" he asked.
"Nothing more for me," Jal'tai said, shaking his head gently. "What about you, Mr. Zgil-Al? Care for another Specialty?"
There were very few things in the world that Solonn would have cared for less at that moment. "No thanks," he said—or tried to say. His words were almost completely engulfed in a massive yawn.
"'No', did you say?" the hitmonchan asked.
"Hm? Yeah, that's right," Solonn confirmed.
"Very well then, sirs. I hope you've enjoyed your day here!" the hitmonchan said cheerfully, then left.
Jal'tai took a moment to stretch his wings, then jumped down from the chair. "So, Mr. Zgil-Al. Would you like for me to give you a nice tour of the city?"
"Ugh… that'd be nice, but…" He unleashed another yawn. "I don't know… I'm just really tired all of a sudden. I feel like I need to get to sleep."
Concern filled Jal'tai's gaze. "Hmm. Well, in that case, I think we'd better seek out a place where you can rest. I think your recent tribulations must have finally taken their toll on you."
Solonn nodded listlessly, suspecting the swellow was right. It seemed that his body had taken all it could; now it was demanding a break for a while.
"Come, Mr. Zgil-Al. The Convergence Inn isn't terribly far from here at all. I should be able to get a room for you there without any trouble." The swellow left the private room and beckoned Solonn to follow.
- o -
Solonn barely registered the trip from Whitley's to the Convergence Inn, hardly even aware of any conscious effort on his part to stay floating as he drifted lethargically behind the swellow. He didn't absorb Jal'tai's words when the swellow told him they'd arrived at their destination until several seconds after the fact.
Vaguely, Solonn noted that he was following Jal'tai into the hotel. He almost didn't notice when Jal'tai strayed from his immediate vicinity and crossed the lobby to go speak with a swampert receptionist.
Jal'tai returned shortly, then gestured with his wing toward an elevator to Solonn's right. "This way," he said. "Your room is on the top floor."
Making a wordless noise of acknowledgment, Solonn let Jal'tai guide him toward a spacious elevator. Jal'tai pressed a button set in the wall beside the elevator's steel doors, which opened a few moments later. Solonn drifted into the elevator quite slowly and somewhat unsteadily; Jal'tai just managed to dash in after him before the doors closed and the elevator began to rise.
Once it came to a stop, the two of them emerged onto the uppermost floor. Jal'tai moved ahead of Solonn and proceeded a short distance through the corridor. "Here it is!" he soon called back to the glalie.
Solonn glided over to join him, so hampered by drowsiness at this point that he nearly drifted right into the wall before coming to a stop at the swellow's side.
"This shall be your room for the night," Jal'tai said, "right in there." He gestured toward the very same wall that Solonn had almost bumped into. There was no door, no apparent way into the "room" that Jal'tai was indicating. The wall was nearly featureless save for the words "Grand Suite" in blue human- and unown-script and a pair of strange devices fitted into the wall next to them. One of these fixtures was some kind of keypad, while the other resembled nothing so much as a round, blank, gray eye.
Even in his lethargy, Solonn managed to give the swellow quite the skeptical look.
Jal'tai smiled. "Observe." Fluttering up into the air before the keypad, he punched a code into it using a single claw, then hurriedly flapped aside from it.
"Ready," said a computerized voice from out of nowhere, and a large, glowing, green square lit up dramatically on the floor in front of the lens and keypad. "Please enter the transport field."
"Go to that square and sit down," Jal'tai said.
Solonn did as he was told. "Initializing scan," said the computerized voice. The lens on the wall awakened, glowing with a brilliant, golden light. It projected a beam of the same color, which touched Solonn, broadened to his width, and swept up and down over him. "Scan complete," the voice said, and the beam vanished.
The tile flashed. A peculiar, tingling sensation prickled over the glalie's skin, followed by a strange sensation like going into a capture ball. But instead of entering a bodiless nothingness, he materialized inside a large, richly furnished suite with paintings on its walls that put the ones hanging up at Whitley's to shame. Marble figures of various dragon-type pokémon stood here and there, no two of them alike.
Not that Solonn could truly appreciate his surroundings. To his weary eyes, everything around him was beginning to bleed together into a blur of color and light.
"Hey in there!" Jal'tai shouted, his voice coming in through the wall. "Do you like it?"
Solonn turned toward the wall and made a noise that was as affirmative-sounding as his exhaustion would allow.
"Good, good!" Jal'tai responded merrily. "Now, listen, I doubt you'll need anything overnight; your suite comes very well equipped, I assure you. But, if you do… Well, have a look at the little table by that green armchair in the den." He gave the glalie ample time to find it; Solonn, in his present state, needed every second of it.
"I see it," Solonn finally said, his words slurred. At least, he thought he saw it.
"Good," Jal'tai said, speaking more loudly now. "Now, you'll notice the little black box with a large, round speaker on top—you can use that to call me if you need anything. It's voice-activated. You need only speak into it—say 'Page', then my name, followed by 'Room 44-B', which is where I'm going to be staying. Call, and I'll come up here as quickly as I can manage. Got it?"
"Got it," Solonn confirmed, although he was only minimally aware of what he was saying.
"All right, then. Rest well, Mr. Zgil-Al!" Jal'tai said brightly. His words were followed by a continuing silence, signifying that he'd left.
With yet another huge yawn, Solonn lowered himself to the floor. He rolled onto his back and gratefully let his eyelids close, sighing as he did so. His fading mind drifted back to things he'd learned earlier that day, lingering on the unown. Solonn remembered, in a detached sort of way, that they'd piqued his interest, but he'd fallen too far toward sleep to remember why. Already half-dreaming, his brain conjured images of the fantastic, surreal beings that it guessed the unown to be, whimsically bizarre creatures that danced in circles around his consciousness as it dwindled away.