The Saturn Star
Original idea by: the Digimon creators
Introduction
The tiny Digimon flew over the vast Digital Plains, which made up about half of the actual terrain. His name was Calumon, and for someone his size, he moved fairly quickly. He was on a mission to leave the Digital World.
The Real World lay on the other side of the void in the sky. It shimmered in the clouds, peeking out at him from behind gold-flecked puffs of white.
As most Digimon knew, in the Digital World, you could see the Real World hanging in the sky. In the same respect, on certain occasions, you could see the Digital World from Earth.
The Real World looked every bit as real as the Digital World. Calumon knew his mission: he had to find the newest Digi-Destined. He had to help them to digivolve.
Something roared in the distance, far away, off across the plain of grass. Calumon sped up.
Dust swirled around him as he flew. He coughed, spluttered, and kept on going.
There it was, dead ahead of him. It was the ancient village of Power, the only place where the two worlds collided, overlapped. It was the only place that one could travel in between the two worlds safely.
The village itself was a bunch of abandoned mud huts. Calumon knew that they never used to be there, that he'd been there before them, but he somehow couldn't remember what had been there instead of them.
He soared around the little huts, squeaking with a little bit of nervousness. Then he saw what he'd come here to see. The stream of data that led to the Real World.
A roar exploded nearby. A hut was flattened as a huge, three-toed foot fell down on top of it.
Calumon didn't stop to turn around. He flew on, quickly, more quickly than he ever had before, and kept his eyes on the huge rift in front of him.
"Oh no," he muttered softly to no one but the air, "He sounds really mad now!"
Suddenly everything went dark. Nothing twitched or stirred. The data stream that led to the Real World flickered and disappeared.
Calumon turned around. There, about twenty feet away, was what looked like a person, but was far too big to be one.
Something long forgotten in his memory stirred.
MEGAMYOTISMON- Evil fiend type Digimon with terrific dark power. If he doesn't destroy you at first, just wait- his Shadow Energist Power will certainly leave you in the dark! (LITERALLY) At all costs, avoid this Digimon.
Calumon shivered, not from fear, but from a sudden rush of cold that came along with the evil creature. It was like being in a Dark Realm. Nothing but light could bring warmth, even the tiny Digimon knew it.
"Infant of the Light," he said, coming closer, and Calumon found he couldn't move. "Surrender to me your power! Give it to me!"
"Power? What are you talking about?!" Calumon screamed at him.
"Delete yourself, and give me your data so that I may make my army the most incredible of all! Shadow Energist Power!"
Calumon saw the ray of darkness coming at him just before it was about to hit him. The triangle on his forehead glowed.
Everything went back to the way it was. Light flooded everywhere. The data stream shot from the sky, plummeting downwards. It struck the ground right where Calumon was standing.
Chapter One
The Digimon Creator
It was April. The clouds came together, merging, to form rainstorms. The raindrops, huge crystals of silver liquid, came barraging the windows as a teenager sat in a three-story house. The Internet whirred and bleeped on his computer as Paul Gadder entered in data. The machine whirred some more.
A map of the Digital World popped up. Mountains, deserts, forests, beaches, and other such landmarks came into focus on the old computer screen. Paul laughed. Finally, after so many weeks of hard labor, tuning his computer to allow him to download the Digital World program, he had done it. The entire Digi-World games, software, info, and contacts were logged into his computer. He knew his dad would be so proud of him.
As far as fathers went, his dad was pretty cool. His dad loved computers, even as much as Paul. This was one of many things the two of them had in common. The two of them even looked alike, both of them with fiery, vibrant red hair, almost neon blue eyes, and square-rimmed spectacles.
His father was an investigator of the Internet, of the various crimes that went on there. He sometimes traveled overseas, to see where the different digital signals were coming from, if they looked suspicious.
Paul felt that the download was a success, a stroke of brilliance, being able to take a computer which was so old nobody thought would be able to be compatible with the Digimon software, and making it compatible. All he'd needed to do was to go to Yahoo.com to find upload materials.
Adamantly pleased with himself, he slapped himself on the back (not hard, of course) and clicked into an opening file. A name blared up, in red and blue letters, which stated,
NEWEST DIGIMON CREATIONS! MAKE ONE YOURS! Paul chuckled quickly at the thought of his very own Digimon. It would be cool, the perfect thing for a nerd like him.
He clicked into the file further. A set of names came up on screen.
Among them, there were:
Backralamon
Gorgiomon
Triuildamon
Hespressmon
Flamedramon
Icedramon
Taichimon
He needed something catchy. He looked to the end of the list. Taichimon. Perfect!
As he straightened up in his chair, he clicked into the "Digimon Stats" file.
Here's what came up.
Taichimon:
Description: An electro-type Digimon with one big load of electric energy. Most of this he derives from magnetism particularly from the Poles, but he could use the energy of storms. Enemies had better beware of his loyalty, his great spirit, and his Electro-Tornado Attack!
Stats: Very fast and agile, with a power to match. Can leap high into the air as well as far distances, though his traction isn't that good, mainly because he doesn't have claws to anchor himself if he goes flying. Can be a little bit sassy at first, but once he likes you, you'll need a great deal of your own power to get him away from you!
Paul clicked into the "Picture" box. A picture of a small bear came up. It looked and resembled a teddy bear, with metal paws, one that said, "S" for south, and the other "N" for north. On its head was a metal helmet, with a little jagged lightning bolt inscribed on it.
Paul looked at it for a few seconds, then said to himself,
"I'll take it!" and clicked the "Download Digimon" icon. Instantaneously, bleeps and beeps of the whirring Internet filled his ears.
"Loading." said the computer graciously, making Paul impatient. How long would it take?
But a few minutes later, the whirring stopped, and Paul admired his newest Digimon. His first Digimon.
He was proud of himself.
He was so proud of himself that he almost didn't hear his mother calling.
"Paul! Could you come here for a second?" Paul clicked the save icon and logged off. What Paul didn't know when he left the room was that his computer was doing something weird. The Digimon on the screen, which Paul had saved to the hard-drive, was moving. Moving fast.
The kitchen danced with Paul's vertigo as he tried to comprehend.
"Gone? What do you mean, gone?" His mother was crying, but Paul made no effort to console her.
"Your father is gone, Paul. He was last seen in Barcelona, Spain, investigating some criminal signal coming from the Internet. Paul, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this. But. he's presumed dead, even though no one's found a body. I don't know how we'll manage without him!" Paul's ears were ringing with the weight of what he was hearing. His dad couldn't be dead, could he? Not the famous Paul Gadder, the one who'd preceded him as another Paul? Not the one person in the entire world who could care about his obsession with the Internet, with Digimon?
"Mom," Paul said unbelievingly, "He can't be dead, he just can't be. I know he's still alive. Can't anyone do something about it?"
His mother's tears, streaming down her face, seemed so sad that he knew her answer.
Paul felt the agony of this as well, and ran to his room. He fell onto his bed in a heap. His tears felt hot against his flesh as he cried. He reminded himself that fourteen-year-olds didn't cry, especially boys. The tears began to plug up, making his face feel like it would explode. His father was the only friend he'd ever had. None of the people in school were willing to be friends with him, particularly because he was the smartest kid in the grade, and everyone but the upperclassmen felt inferior of him.
He couldn't take the prospect that his only friend, his father, was gone. He wouldn't take it.
He looked up at the computer, and saw it. The computer was whirring. The picture of the Digimon was spinning.
Paul reached over to the bedside table, picked up a floppy disk, and approached the computer.
The whirring didn't stop as Paul saved it to computer disk.
Paul turned, and the floppy disk fell out of his hands as he collapsed to the floor in a heap. Sleep would come soon, and Paul had to be ready for tomorrow.
Chapter Two
Calumon's Entrance
It was amazing how quickly everything went by after that. It seemed like only seconds before Paul was out for the summer. Despite this, his father's disappearance loomed dark in his mind, like an omen, and whenever someone tried to talk it out with him, be it his mother, uncles, aunts, even grandmothers, Paul used the best excuse he could think of to get away from them. He often used the fabled, "Could you excuse me, please? I think I left my computer on again."
Whether they actually believed him, or were just allowing him to leave out of respect for his feelings, Paul didn't know or care. To him, life was now more or less a giant whirlpool, dragging down every ounce of order in his life.
The strange part of his dilemma was the fact that despite everything he did to try to get away from those who wanted to talk to him about it, he really did want to talk about it with someone. The complicated part of this, however, was that he wanted to talk to his father. He wanted him to give him a high-five, say, "Hey, kiddo, let's go do something," and then they would do whatever. He wanted him to come strolling into his bedroom and ask him what was wrong. He wanted a lot of things, but unfortunately, he wouldn't be getting them anytime soon.
The summer was a living hell, now that he didn't have anyone to hang out with, (he had no friends) and Paul was beginning to consider getting a job. He was only fourteen, but he could still mow people's lawns, and it would give him some spending money to use on who knew what. It would help him to keep his mind off of his dad, where he might be. Paul still hadn't given up on his father yet; at the beginning of the summer he'd posted a search for his father over the Internet, which included a brief description of him, his picture, and where he was last seen. Paul had high hopes for it; the Internet hadn't failed him yet. But no one had seen him, or if they had, it had been weeks, months, or even years prior to his disappearance.
Paul didn't understand any of it. Five months ago, everything had seemed right. Everything had seemed perfect. Although he had no social life, he lived in (virtually) a Utopia. His father had always come home precisely at six o'clock, not a moment before or later, and his mother would always say,
"Are you back again? Jeez, you just can't keep yourself away from me, can you?"
And his father would laugh richly and reply,
"Not even the job can keep me away from my sweetheart, Babe."
Paul's father would then kiss his mother on the cheek quickly, and settle himself down next to Paul (Paul was usually in the room when his father came home). He would ask how his day had been, and the answer to this had always been genuine:
"Dad, it was great!"
Or, if the day hadn't gone so well, his father would always say,
"Well, kiddo, there's always tomorrow to make things right."
He would then serenade the two of them with the song, Lean on Me, and his mother and father would dance to it, smiling.
There were almost always smiles in the house; Paul could never think of more than one big fight in the house per year.
Even after major fights, everyone involved apologized, and they went on with their lives, almost as though it had never happened.
Paul wanted that life back more than anything he could ever have wanted, and would have traded all he owned (which was a lot, and was worth hundreds) to retrieve it.
But life went on, and day by day, Paul began to dread waking up each morning to check the Internet posting. The number of people logging on with any information at all was decreasing by the day, but Paul knew he couldn't give up. He had great technology on his side, and would do whatever it took to find him.
The days wore on, through the rest of June, boring into his brain like tiny needles, until Paul had to lock himself in his room and scream. The pressures were becoming too much for him to handle. His mother was finding it difficult to get a job (she'd never needed one until her husband vanished, because he'd left them both a great fortune, but it was slowly dwindling) and she often told Paul to leave the house so she could be alone for awhile.
On these occasions, there being nothing else to do on a humid summer's eve, Paul would wander the streets until the lights came on. He would then make his way to the library, mainly because the librarians never asked too many questions about why he was out so late when he should have been at home for curfew (there wasn't an actual law-enforced curfew in the village, but it was considered bad form to be out later than ten o'clock). Paul would look through magazines, play games on the Web, and practice his chess skills with an old hermit who had been the champion of the town some fifty years before.
"Chess can teach you a lot about life," the old man would say, "Can teach you to respect your opponent, can teach you to mind what you do, but most importantly to never give yourself away easily."
In one match, the man pointed to his queen, now threatening Paul's queen, and said,
"In my next turn, you would be expecting me to take that, wouldn't you?"
Paul had nodded without saying anything. The old man laughed.
"Well, my friend, don't assume anything. Think of other ways I could beat you. Expect the unexpected."
Paul had looked at the board with growing frustration, and noticed across the board, a rook was poised to strike, and a bishop was positioned four squares to the northwest of the king.
Paul had moved his king out of check, causing his opponent to take the queen.
Paul had lost that match, but hadn't forgotten the words of wisdom the old man had shared.
Expect the unexpected.
It seemed like everything was unexpected around here. He had heard on the news that a snowstorm had erupted in the Caribbean, and it wasn't small, either. It was almost as large as a hurricane.
Paul didn't have time to dwell on the weather patterns. A thought approached his mind every time his saw his mother.
YOUR DAD'S DEAD, MAN! GET OVER IT! HE'S NEVER COMING BACK, AND YOU'RE KIDDING YOURSELF IF YOU THINK THAT A WEBSEARCH AND A PICTURE ARE GOING TO HELP HIM OUT NOW! HE IS DEAD.
He would shake his head wildly to rid it of this thought.
MY FATHER WILL BE COMING BACK, AND WHEN HE DOES, IT WILL SHOW ALL THOSE IDIOTS WHO THINK HE COULD DIE THAT MY DAD ISN'T THAT PATHETIC!
One night in late July, Paul lay awake in his king-size bed, in his grand three-story house, contemplating his life as it was now. His mother was dating a guy from work, (she had recently been hired as a secretary at a law firm) a sign that she had given up on her husband coming back, and was trying to move on, and his aunt had moved in with them, taking it upon herself to make Paul do all the dishes after supper, to do all the cleaning of his room, his mother's room, and her own. Paul had done everything without complaint, surprising even his mother (Paul rarely helped out around the house without complaining). Life was turning upside-down, so, heck, why not throw in some extra chores as well, just to give it more zest?
In his free time, Paul locked himself in his room, blocking out all sounds except for his fingers clicking away at the keyboard.
He was now desperate, and his mother was starting to worry. That night at supper she'd asked,
"Paul, do you think I should sign you up for some counseling? I think it would help you move on."
Paul had shrugged, asked to be excused, and gone back to his computer.
Worrying and obsessing over his father had become a full-time "job" for him, aside from the occasional call of anybody who needed their lawn mowed, or their kids taken care of.
Paul turned over, his brain juggling all these thoughts in his head.
The computer clicked on of its own accord.
Paul blinked. Screwing his eyes up, he saw that the Digimon WebPages had been accessed. Words had almost magically appeared on them; little tiny dots in a visionary blur of colors, shades, and partial light. Paul put on his glasses and stepped out of bed, feeling the floorboards bend under his weight.
He sat down at a desk next to his computer, wondering what was going on. Someone had sent him a message.
Hello, Paul. Are you there?
Fascinated, Paul began to type back.
Hello, yes, I'm here. Who is this, and how do you know my name?
Words blossomed back in response.
I am someone who you've known since you were very small. I am here to help you.
His hands began to pump out sweat. Could it possibly be.?
Are you my father?
The words came back slowly, and Paul felt disappointment settle like a rock inside of him.
No. I am not your father.
All of the high hopes, nervousness, and partial excitement ebbed away. But the message went on:
I may know where he is, though, and how you can find him. I can also give you a chance to bring him back...
Paul responded quickly.
Please, tell me whatever you know. Where is my father?
He is within the Saturn Star, which is where you must go. I know how you can get there, but you will need a few things first.
What will I need?
You will need a T-Tector Digi-vice, and you will also need a Digimon of your own for protection.
Paul stopped for a second. Digimon weren't real. There were TV shows, of course, but there were no such things as Digimon. How could he have one of his own if they didn't exist?
Digimon aren't real. Is this some kind of joke? You have my father, now where is he?
For your father's sake, I beg you not be doubtful of what I'm telling you. I don't have your father with me, because if I did, I would return him to your side in an instant. But the place he is being held is far too dangerous for even I to venture off into. You, however, have a chance. Now, do you want this chance or not?
Paul felt scared. What if he was talking to some kind of kidnapper or a serial killer? Paul timidly responded,
Yes. What do I have to do?
First, tell no one of this conversation. Second, there is a floppy disk on your bedroom floor beside your chair. Pick it up and put it in your disk drive.
As Paul turned, his initial reaction was how on earth whoever was logging onto the computer knew how there was a floppy disk on the floor next to his chair. If this person knew that, then how much else of him did they know?
Shaking wildly, Paul placed the floppy disk in the drive.
"Downloading," the computer whirred.
The familiar picture of Taichimon blared up on screen.
Good. Now, do you want this Digimon to be your own?
An icon popped up.
Yes No
Paul hesitated, then clicked yes.
There is a calculator in the desk drawer. Take it out and hold it up to the screen.
Paul felt his hands slip as he pulled at the knob of metal in the desk. Sure enough, inside was a graphing calculator, one his mother had bought him for AP STAT in a few years.
Paul held it up to the computer cautiously. Instantly, the computer was covered in digital code. 1's and 0's blared up.
The code shot out of the computer in a flash of light and enveloped the calculator.
Paul felt his hands go numb with pain and he let go.
Light was everywhere in the room now, and he felt the light all around him as though it were tangible.
After a few seconds the light stopped, and all that was left was something oval-shaped hovering in front of the computer. It fell backwards, and Paul caught it with both hands.
What he was holding was a red egg-shaped thing, with several buttons and knobs, and a tiny square screen, which seemed to show the map of the Digital World that Paul had been looking at before he heard word of his father's disappearance.
Words appeared on screen again.
This is your T-Tector Digi-vice. It will guide you and aid you throughout your journey. Never you lose this, for it will come in handy. Are you ready for your journey to begin?
Paul was about to reply very hotly,
"What is going on here?" when he saw that the T-Tector was shining. A ray of light spewed out of it, and before Paul could understand what was happening, the light formed itself into the shape of an egg.
The egg was spotted, colored spots, and was even bigger than an ostrich's.
Paul typed in exactly what he'd wanted to say before.
What is going on? What is this egg?
It is your Digimon. He is not hatched yet, but when he hatches, he will be your guardian. You, also, must watch over him. Don't let him get hurt.
Now you must go to the Digital World. Be sure to inform those who love you that you are leaving. Your adventure shall start tomorrow at noon. Be here at your computer and be ready to leave.
Will I be alone? Aside from my Digimon, I mean?
No. There will be others. You will find them throughout your journey. Don't ever be alone in the Digital World. Find someone to go with you always.
There is one last thing you must have with you before I leave you till tomorrow. Calumon is in dire need of protection. He is the Infant of Light, and he has been in my protection for the last few months. I've been making sure that he has not crossed to your side, the Earth, before it was safe. Creatures in this world are hunting him. It is your job- your fate- to keep him safe from harm. He shall stay with you tonight in your world, and return with you tomorrow to a safe place in the Digital World.
I must leave you now. Farewell, and good luck.
The computer whirred one last time. A bolt of light shot out from the screen. This light too, was oval-shaped, and looked somehow solid. Like a rocket, it sped from the screen and materialized in midair, falling to the ground in a lump. It was white, and it stuck out like a sore thumb in all the darkness around him.
Paul went over to it. A soft purring came from the creature, and then it shot up, curled itself around Paul's neck, and began squeaking uncontrollably.
"Quiet," Paul whispered to it.
Surprisingly, it did.
"Why are people so mean?" it whispered.
Paul agreed silently, and at that moment realized that the creature was a small, rat-shaped animal, with a red triangle on his forehead.
His T-tector glowed. A metallic, perky voice echoed out of it.
"Calumon- Rat type Digimon of Light. Has an extraordinary power of helping others to digivolve. Doesn't have that many powerful attacks, but can give others the power to fight in his stead."
He began to shiver, and Paul held him close. He had never had any siblings, so he didn't understand how to hug someone younger than himself, but he did know how to care for someone, and it seemed that the creature was welcoming it.
Paul had nowhere for the little thing to sleep, so he allowed it to sleep in his bed, fluffing up the cushion so that he would be comfortable. Paul couldn't sleep anyway. So much had happened, and so much of it Paul wanted to be explained.
Almost all of what had happened tonight Paul wanted to dismiss as a figment of his imagination, but although he half-wanted this to be a dream, because it would make the most sense, Paul at the same time half-wanted it to be real. He wanted the information about his father to be valid, reassuring. He wanted to believe in a chance to get his father back, and he would believe in anything from goblins to Orcs to trolls if it would enable him to do it.
At the thought of trolls and other such creatures, Paul felt a wave of apprehension roll through him. If he did go on this journey, what if he got into a battle with a dragon or something like that? He'd only seen glimpses of what the Digital World was like, so if most of it were uncharted, then how would he navigate? What if he couldn't find that place. what was it. The Saturn Star?
Paul fought these thoughts with all his might, and forced himself to believe in his own abilities,
He crossed to his bed, pulled the covers up over Calumon's limp body, and then placed the egg beside it. He sat by the window for the rest of the night.
Chapter Three
Saying Goodbye
The prospect of leaving his mother behind started to seem impossible the following morning, when he came down to find her making pancakes, hiding a sadness Paul knew only too well behind an expression of joy. His aunt, apparently, had gone out; her tiny handbag that was almost always over the kitchen fireplace was nowhere to be seen.
"Hey sweetie," said Paul's mother as she dropped a pancake onto the floor. She cursed, bent over, retrieved the pancake, and tried to recreate that same fake aura of happiness.
Paul smiled a phony smile of his own to equal his mother's, and sat down at the kitchen table. His mother put all the pancakes she'd made already onto a tray and joined him.
They ate, and Paul couldn't look at her without feeling somewhat guilty. The food tasted sour in his mouth, almost as if he were eating lemons.
He had to cut to the chase.
"Ma," he said, and a look in her eyes almost made him want to stay, "I've got to go."
"Go where, sweetie?"
Why did her eyes have to be that bright and welcoming? It was almost unnatural. He knew he had to leave, that he had to find his father, but somehow he felt he had to stay.
"Away. Far away. Just for awhile."
"Sweetheart, you haven't answered my question. Where exactly are you going?"
She seemed about to cry hysterically, and that's all she would have needed to do to get him to stay.
"It's somewhere where Dad is," he said, and that was it. His mother said nothing for a moment, tried to look somewhat puzzled, but Paul knew it to be no more than a mask.
"Nothing you do can make me stay, so I'm just gonna go. Dad's out there, and I'm not gonna stop till I find him. I've got a chance, Ma."
His mother turned, her eyes bloodshot, four months of sadness shining through them.
"Stop it, just stop it, okay?"
She covered her eyes again. and Paul turned away as if she'd just turned hideous.
Paul fingered the T-Tector Digi-Vice in his pocket for luck, then went on, in a calm voice,
"Ma, I'm not lying. I've got to go. But I will come back, I promise. I-"
She then started to scream, and high resonating notes filled not only the kitchen, but the whole house.
"You can't go anywhere! I won't allow it!"
"Ma-"
"No! My answer is final!"
"Let him go."
The voice had come from near the radiator, echoing out fiercely. All turned to see Paul's aunt standing in the doorway, her palm on the radiator, an expression on her face that Paul couldn't identify.
"Janis," said Paul's mother as though she had just seen her for the first time in years, "Good, you're up. Will you please talk some sense into Paul for me?"
Aunt Janis turned to Paul and, with an almost deadly expression, she warned him to keep his mouth shut.
"Let him go, Diane. He seems to know more about this than we do. If he needs to go, then let him go. He'll be back soon. He might need to do something that we can't help with."
"I don't care, okay?" his mother seemed almost petrified. "My husband can't be anywhere you're going! The police have already searched." but then she broke off, as though she didn't really believe it, like they could've searched further.
"Mom, I'm going to leave anyway. There's nothing you can say that will make me stay. But I'll tell you this Mom. I'm coming back. That's a promise. I'm coming back. And I'll come back with Dad."
His mother burst into tears at this point, and Paul had to stand up and look away to keep from following suit.
Aunt Janis went over to his mother and consoled her, putting her arms around her.
"Paul, just go, please. Your Mom needs a bit of time away from us for awhile. I've got to go grocery shopping. So please. just go." Paul turned. Everything was happening too fast. He'd half expected his aunt to side with his mother, and he didn't know whether any of this seemed real. What if nothing happened at noon? Would his mother be angry, thinking it was all some elaborate joke?
As he left the room, his aunt called after him,
"Please be careful, wherever you're going."
Drawers lay opened, clothes thrown everywhere, as Paul tried to find suitable outfits to wear on the journey, if there was one at all. Jeans, khakis, T-shirts, shorts, and other such garments littered the floor. Calumon wandered through them, sniffing inside of them.
"Oh wow. this is a big house," he said cheerfully, snuggling up inside a pair of boxers.
Paul couldn't believe how strange it was, to finally have a real-life Digimon in his own house. It was like he was in a dream, a dream that made reality seem so dull and uninteresting.
Paul stuffed two pairs of jeans into a knapsack he'd gotten for Christmas, then scooped up a couple of T-shirts and wedged them in, too. He was picking up three pairs of shorts for a duffel bag he was going to bring along when he noticed Calumon holding his T-tector.
A ray of light was protruding from the tiny little screen, illuminating Calumon's face so brightly it was as if his whole face were made of sun.
"Calumon," Paul said, troubling to keep his voice low so as not to alert his mother. "Give me that, please."
Calumon looked up at him sweetly.
"Well, since you said 'please' I guess I have to, huh?"
He held up the T-tector to Paul, who took it graciously, and the light faded.
"Calumon," Paul asked, but the Digimon was already searching another mismatched clothing item.
Once Paul thought he had all the clothes he would need, he tucked the egg under one of his T-shirts in the bag. He only hoped it would hatch soon so that he could see Taichimon for real.
Paul quickly tiptoed downstairs and into the kitchen. He was relieved to see his mother gone; he didn't think another episode like the one this morning would do her any good. Paul crept (he didn't know why, he had no reason to) to the refrigerator and began stocking himself up on food.
A ham sandwich, a box of old pastries his mother had left untouched for several days, and macaroni and cheese. That was pretty much it. He stuffed them into the bag quickly. Paul checked the breadbox next, combing it for at least a loaf of French bread. Paul knew there usually was an abundance of it. Nevertheless, he only found two rolls and a bagel. Paul took these also, for carbohydrates. Ever since that stupid boyfriend arrived in their lives, he'd been eating them both out of house and home. Paul hated him, and wished his mother had never met him. He wasn't mean; it was just that he was always around, and he seemed to want to replace Paul's father.
Paul scoured the oven for anything his mother may have left behind, but there was nothing. Paul eyed the pancakes they'd had for breakfast with a certain delight, and took as much as he could from the dining room table.
When all was done, Paul thought that the amount of food he'd collected would last him up to a couple of days, if he took care not to lose any of it, or eat it too quickly.
Paul retreated to his bedroom, where Calumon was lying on his back on the bed.
Paul checked the clock. Eleven-thirty AM. He had one half hour to spare before he had to go. Paul didn't know what else he had to do before he went. He had food, clothes, what else did he need?
He went to the closet, and pulled out something he hadn't used since he was eight. It was a sleeping bag, and he had only used it at a summer camp. He was probably too big for it, but he put it in one of the three bags he would bring, and flopped onto his bed next to Calumon.
He checked his Digivice. What had made that light go on? And, more importantly, how come it shut off when he held it?
He decided not to worry about it now. What he needed to worry about now was where he was going. What if the Digital World was terrible? How could he find his father?
He shook his head to rid it of this thought. He didn't need thoughts like that now. What he really needed was someone who understood how he felt about leaving. He didn't want to leave, but at the same time, he could feel a longing to go to the Digital World, like he had always been waiting to be there.
Time dripped by in a monotonous fashion, with Calumon jumping up and down within the room. Paul sometimes felt a weird need to tell him off for it, and then kept it in.
The whole half hour was spent on Paul beating himself up about his mother, her feelings, and his aunt. They were so worried about him. and he had made a promise to them that he would return. And he would, no matter what.
Chapter Four
What Happened at Twelve Noon
Twelve.
The clocks chimed throughout the house. Paul sat at the computer with all his bags packed and ready to go, waiting for whatever might happen.
A message appeared on screen.
Hello Paul. Are you ready to leave?
Paul, seeing the message, felt a thrill shoot up through his body, originating in his toes. He responded instantaneously.
Yes. How am I getting to the Digital World?
Follow your Digivice.
That was it. There was nothing else. No directions, no other instructions, just those three words. Follow your Digivice.
Paul had pocketed the Digivice minutes before twelve. He took it out, and to his amazement, saw that instead of that map of the Digital World, there was a map of his world, and a digital compass. A blinking light shown five blocks away from his house on the map, where a bunch of old computer labs were.
Paul quickly shut off his computer, grabbed his bags, and went to the door. Calumon jumped off the bed, hopped into his bag, and began making a nest out of the sleeping bag Paul had put in one of them. Paul stepped out, walking along the landing to the banister.
Normally, he would have slid down it, but the adult part of him told him not to. When he reached the front door, a voice called out,
"You're really leaving, then?"
Paul turned to see his aunt, wearing a polka-dotted apron and oven mitts. She looked like she'd been making cookies.
"I guess I can't stop you. You're a lot like your dad. He went on a lot of adventures too."
Paul desperately wanted to leave this place as quickly as possible.
"Go, if you want. But Paul. take this with you."
She extended her hand, and Paul saw within it an Irish whistle, made of tin.
Paul reached out and took it, cradling it in his hands like a jewel.
"Your mother got that for you when you were just a baby," she said, "It will remind you of her. Don't forget us, please. I love you, Paul. Please, for her sake, be careful."
She embraced Paul then, and Paul smelt her perfume like pure lavender. He ended it without speaking, and went through the door.
The summer sun was burning his eyes, and it occurred to Paul that he should have brought his sun-block.
Oh well, Paul thought, Nothing I can do about it now. I'm not going back.
He turned onto Main Street, still following the orders of the T- tector, went dead ahead toward the edge of town. The noon day sun was overhead, and was far hotter than Paul had anticipated.
The T-tector switched to a different direction after several blocks, going east. Paul turned the corner at the next intersection.
A set of warehouses lay in front of him, guarded by a long fence. The fence itself was long and old. Rust had spread all over it, like some kind of creepy vermin.
Paul hopped the fence quickly, feeling that icky rust grate off all over his fingers, and then proceeded to the warehouses.
Paul had been told by his father more than once that these warehouses used to be labs, but that now they were abandoned. No business dared to settle here, because they were supposedly haunted. Several years previously, someone had died from electric shock at one of the computers in the lab, and the company had gone under almost immediately afterward.
Paul crossed the compound, starting to get that eerie feeling that he was being watched.
Paul approached the door. It was glass, but from all the dust around the compound and the neglect of the laboratories, it had lost its clearness to a murky brown.
Paul was two feet from the door when it opened of its own accord. Paul hesitated, unsure of what was going on, then went in.
The grand lobby of the building had rundown computers, and had the appearance of a place that had once held many people, and was of the greatest social class.
Paul moved through the lobby silently, and for a second, he felt a thrill of anxiety ripple through him. It had only been transient, but he had felt a strange presence in the room.
The T-tector began to speak.
"Paul."
Paul jumped, then gazed intently at the T-tector.
"Your destiny lies beyond that door. Go to it."
A ray of light spread out from the Digivice and fell upon an old door to an elevator off to his left.
Curious, Paul trotted over to the elevator door. He was about to press the down button when the elevator opened.
Thinking that the doors opening of their own doing was getting a bit repetitive, Paul carefully stepped into the elevator, hoping that an old elevator like this wouldn't fall.
It didn't fall, but it swung a little, making Paul a little nervous. The doors closed quietly behind him.
Before Paul could press any buttons, he was going down. Fast. Paul screamed like he'd never screamed before. This was it. He was going to die. The elevator would crash, and all that would be left of the nerdy Paul Gadder would be his brains smeared across the concrete basement floor. It was only a matter of moments till death.
Then the elevator stopped. It jerked a bit, and Paul was thrown off his feet into the air. His bags flew in his face as the elevator doors opened and expelled him outward onto the ground. He heard Calumon's scream just in time to turn in midair to cushion the bag he was in.
They landed on some kind of rug. Calumon popped his head out of the bag and sneezed.
"Whoa, where are we?"
Indeed, where were they? It didn't look like any other part of the building. There were new computers in here, and it looked like this place had been used for decades. It most certainly didn't look abandoned.
Paul straightened up, feeling his backside sear with pain. He didn't know which was worse, falling in an elevator, or falling out of it.
There were twenty computers in this room, and none of them looked like one could buy them in a store. It looked to Paul like they'd all been built out of parts from other computer systems.
A message appeared on one nearest to Paul.
So you have come. Will you go to the Digital World now?
Paul approached the computer, and noticed that whoever had owned it also could access the Digimon homepage.
Yes. What must I do?
Hold out your Digivice to the computer screen.
Paul, having never put away the T-tector in the first place, looked at it and then held it up to the computer.
Nothing happened. What was going on? Was this some kind of prank? Had he come all this way for nothing?
Paul checked his watch. 12:30. He'd been at this for half an hour.
"Analyzing." the computer said in a sharp, metallic voice.
The computer blazed with digital code, billions upon billions of zeroes and ones. All others in the room did this as well, until the room was a penetrating white.
Paul pulled the Digivice away from the computer, suddenly afraid. As the rest of the room began to glow, so did Calumon.
"Ohh." whispered the creature, and then glowed a bright red.
The computer blasted light out of the screen, and codes instantly wrapped themselves around Paul's body. Paul was drowning in light.
"Transporting."
And then came Paul's scream. It tore through the room, and then Paul couldn't see the room at all.
Chapter Five
The Digi-destined
Paul had never felt so dazed in all his life. He was floating. floating over a vast, wide open abyss, and he was not falling.
The light was green. emerald. like his mother's eyes.
His mother. where was she? How. did he. get here?
Paul felt things going by him in the light. Shadows. creatures. could they be Digimon?
"Wow." whispered Calumon, his red triangle shining again. The abyss widened. The light shone brighter.
Paul felt like he was between sleep and awake. He was groggy, and he felt like he had jetlag. He had nausea seemingly all over his body, and he felt somehow too weary.
Light obscured Paul's vision as he slipped out of consciousness.
That alien-like green light was the first thing he saw as he awoke. That abyss was below him like before, and debris was littered everywhere. 0's and 1's were floating through midair slowly.
Paul tried to move, but as he did, he felt that sick feeling shoot through him again.
He lolled over on his back, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He had come to the Digital World, but he didn't know where he'd landed, and wherever it was, he was sure he didn't like it.
How would he ever get out of here? Every time he tried to go anywhere, that awful nausea took hold, and he wanted to puke. Maybe he should have listened to his mom.
"Where am I?"
Echoes.
His voice carried through the abyss, bouncing, rebounding off invisible walls.
Calumon spoke.
"It's a data field. They're like passages to the Digital World. We're not in the Digital World yet."
His voice too, echoed and rebounded in the abyss.
"How do we get to the Digital World, then?"
Again, echoes.
"That depends on you. When you're here, you choose the exit."
Paul didn't quite understand. Choose? How could he choose how to leave this place?
"Take me. down, I guess."
A giant whirlwind of sound and color exploded all around him. That same nausea gripped him fiercely. He was being sucked downward. Fast. It reminded Paul of the elevator ride.
Down. down. in flashes of green light.
When Paul awoke, he was surprised to find that he survived the fall. He rubbed his head, sat up, looked around, and was relieved to find all his luggage safely on the ground beside him.
Still remembering vividly the trip here, Paul stood up.
He was in a forest. Lush, green-stemmed leaves poured themselves outward like huge hands, and by the look of most of the plants, this place seemed tropical. Paul had never seen anything like it.
The place he'd landed in appeared to be a clearing in a vast wood. Paul lifted a few branches out of the way to see exactly how far this forest stretched. Trees seemed to be put everywhere, dotted in the ground every which way. Screeches and calls of what Paul assumed to be birds resonated throughout the wood.
Sunlight (or what Paul thought was its facsimile) poured down through a luscious canopy, illuminating everything so that it had the effect of being green.
As Paul stood there, gazing out at the enormous expanse of green, he felt a strange living vibe radiating off of everything in the wood. It was like the very air had a living power, a living essence.
Is this the Digital World? he thought. It seems so real. I'd always imagined the Digital World to be a bunch of binary code, but it seems to be alive, somehow.
Paul picked up his luggage and began to walk through the forest, feeling the "living vibe" growing thicker.
The trees seemed to press in on him from every direction, and Paul thought, with some degree of terror, that it was like being in a vice.
For a long time Paul walked, until he felt that this forest was just as dense as the data field.
He sat down on a pile of leaves and began to ponder what this place really was.
As he sat down, he felt a slight poke in the region of his back pocket.
Reaching down inside it, Paul withdrew the tin whistle his aunt had given him. Surprisingly enough, it hadn't been bent or snapped when they'd fallen through the data field.
I think I'd better hang onto this a bit more carefully, thought Paul, It will remind me that I have a home I need to get back to.
Paul felt a hot tear wriggle its way down his cheek. What if he never got home? Would he be stuck here forever? Would he ever find his father?
Paul began to feel slightly sick. Deciding he shouldn't think about this until he had a clear plan in mind for what he would do, he turned and began to get up.
Calumon groaned, and opened his eyes as he poked his head out of a bag and looked around.
"Ah. the forest."
Paul turned to look at him.
"You- you know this place?"
Calumon blinked.
"Sure I do. It's where I grew up. Though it's changed. somehow. I feel. sleepy."
He yawned deeply, and then collapsed back down onto his back in the clothes next to the egg.
Paul had just noticed it too. He was feeling drowsy, almost as though he couldn't keep walking.
He was so tired all of a sudden. he'd been walking since noon, that had to be over an hour. one rest couldn't hurt.
Paul collapsed down onto the leaves.
He was waking up. he was in a field his father had taken him to. he was only six. he stood up.
There was his father. standing away across a meadow. a meadow full of flowers. he was running towards him.
"PAPA!"
His footsteps were making no imprint on the grass. his arms were open wide.
And there it was behind him. a terrible creature.
I was only six.
"RAGHAGH!"
The roar echoed into his mind from somewhere in his past.
"Daddy!"
But he was gone, consumed in the blackness of the thing behind him, and Paul didn't understand what was happening.
"Daddy! NOOO!"
"He's waking up. Should we tell the boss?"
"Nah. We need him, at least until he tells us what he was doing in our forest."
"Your forest? This forest never belonged to you or anybody. It was just for everyone and everyone alone!" "Quiet, you rotten brat, or I'll delete you, and use your data to become more powerful than before."
The voice who had said that the forest was for everyone had been Calumon, he knew that much, but he couldn't open his eyes for some reason. The image of that thing behind his father was burning behind his eyelids. He tried to move around and found out that he was tied down to a hard surface. His bonds seemed impenetrable; although he tried to break free, he couldn't. A voice broke through the room, and Paul shivered with its intensity. "So the final Digi-Destined has arrived in our world, right? What say you, Trollmon?" Another voice, less harsh, but still just as evil, erupted, to Paul's surprise, beside him. "Yes, my lord, he has one of those things the other kids have. What are they called again?" "A Digivice. A T-tector. It gives him the power to help his Digimon partner to Digivolve. You know of the prophecies, Trollmon, the ones that lie in the vast depths of the Saturn Star?" Something stirred in Paul's memory. Saturn Star? But that was where. his father was hidden! "Aargh." he groaned, and tried to wriggle his way out of his bonds. He opened his eyes slowly. He was in a vast hall. Chandeliers hung from the ceilings, and around him were twenty or so creatures. They looked a bit like trolls. Squinting, he saw that the creatures were all huddled around a man the size of a tree. His Digivice was gone; as he felt for it, he realized, with a jolt of horror, that the man had it in his hand. The T-tector whirred, and spat out data. "Giga-Piedmon- Servant Digimon of Mega-Myotismon. Has great Dark Magic Powers, and will suck up tremendous amounts of dark forces to utilize them. Can and will attack you for data. Beware of his Flame Sword of The Cards!"
Paul looked around quickly. Calumon was hanging on the other side of the room, staring around wildly.
What was Paul going to do? He didn't have his luggage with him, he didn't have anything that could defend him or Calumon. Would he get out of here alive?
"Enough, stupid machine," sneered Giga-Piedmon, "Trollmon, bring the boy to me."
One of the trolls pulled at the bonds on Paul's body, and then moved him into a standing position. He walked him across to the other side of the hall, and for some reason, Paul couldn't move against him. He was petrified of that man, standing away in front of him.
The man loomed ahead of him, dark, menacing, and domineering. His robes swished about him in a dark haze.
Paul wriggled as hard as he could, and tried to call out to Calumon to do the same, but it was all for nothing, he knew.
The guard stopped, and Paul found himself face to disgusting face with Giga-Piedmon. He looked more hideous up close.
Giga-Piedmon bent low, his face coming level with Paul's.
"Ah, the last and final Digi-Destined," he said in a vile whisper, "It is you who bear the last crest. Give it to me!"
The guard punched Paul hard in the ribs, and for a second, Paul was afraid they'd broken. As his breathing normalized, however, he felt no pain as he inhaled, so he figured that nothing had been seriously injured.
"What are you talking about?" The words came out drained of their energy, quietly, and as Paul spoke, he felt as though the only way for him to be heard would be through a microphone.
"The last crest, fool! Of the Digi-Destined! Don't insult my intelligence!"
Paul began to moan in pain and despair.
Come on, Paul. You gonna be a quitter, or are you gonna stand up to that bully, Brad? He doesn't have anything you don't. Stand your ground. Don't let him see fear.
Dad?
No, only an echo of his voice in his memory, telling him to fend for himself against the village bully. It still carried the same message, however, and though every muscle in Paul's body screamed in anguish, Paul did not back down or cry out. He stared deeply into Giga-Piedmon's face and did not look away.
"ANSWER ME!"
But the truth was that Paul Gadder couldn't answer. He had nothing to divulge. There was nothing to do but stand there, standing his ground.
"Do you fear me, boy? Speak! Speak your mind now!"
"No."
"What?"
"NO!"
There, he'd said it. He had told a lie. On many levels, he was terrified of Giga-Piedmon. But he would never let him know it. Not now, not when he so desperately needed to get away from him.
"You do fear me, I can feel it in your emotions. You fear me, yet you deny, and pass off your fears as trivial. Typical of you humans. Better to die bravely than to die a coward. Cowardice, however, can save one's life. Bravery will almost always jeopardize it."
Paul heard what this awful man was saying and yet knew he could not believe it. None of what he had just said could be true, not a word of it. He needed to get out of here. But there was nowhere left to run.
"NOW!"
A huge explosion. Deafening blast. Trollmon knocked off their feet. The world turned upside-down. Paul was suddenly free.
A Digimon bigger in size than Paul was crashed into the hall. He rammed in every direction. It sent Trollmon flying. They scattered as the massive creature hurled forward. It smashed, it crashed. Paul ran. In all the confusion, he couldn't discern where the exits were. He knew, however, that he had vowed to keep Calumon safe from all harm, so that was what he needed to do. Paul traversed the entire vicinity, scouring the place for any sign of Calumon.
His manacles that had clasped him to the wall were broken; he was lying, limp as a rag doll, on the floor. Paul couldn't see his luggage anywhere. At this point, he didn't care about it.
He scooped the tiny Digimon up in his arms, and ran. He didn't care at that moment where he ended up, as long as it was far away from this mob.
On and on he went, the unconscious body of Calumon swinging in his arms.
By the end of the hallway there was a stair, and Paul, by instinct, ran towards it. He got to the top step and tripped.
Pain shot through Paul's body as boy and Digimon fell. The two of them crashed down into the lower regions of the stairwell. They crashed into the walls. They smashed into the banisters. They tumbled, somersaulted. There was nothing they could do to stop it.
By some miracle, they slowed to a stop at the bottom of the stair. Calumon's eyes fluttered. Paul suddenly couldn't breathe, and what he saw next horrified him.
The entire area down here was on fire. Paul gagged. The air down on the ground, where they were, was clean enough, but still, it wasn't clean enough, and Paul felt his breath grow shorter. His consciousness was dwindling.
Through the flames drifted a ghastly figure. Giga-Piedmon. He was taller, more menacing than before. He was holding Paul's T-tector as if it were gold. He began to move faster through the flames toward Paul. Paul tried to move backward, away from him, but he was so devoid of strength he couldn't. The body of Giga[-Piedmon glided over him and the Digivice let out a ray of light. Paul reached up for it, and lost consciousness all together.
Paul rose to wakefulness later, and for the first few minutes after he'd awoken, he was afraid that something terrible had happened after he'd slept. But as his eyes opened, he felt wind on his hair, and he heard voices.
"Do you think he's one of us, Brad?"
A sweet voice, a female voice.
"Not sure. He's got a Digivice and a Digimon; I guess that means he qualifies. Am I right?"
There was a momentary silence. The voice who had spoken was a soft baritone. Then a new voice broke in, this one gravelly and coarse:
"Brad, I can't see very well in this fog. Be quiet so I can hear if there's any danger."
Again, the one named Brad spoke.
"Sorry, Dragomon. I didn't realize I was disturbing you."
Paul sat up. It was night, a clear, cloudless night, and instead of one moon up in the sky, there were three. That must be how things were in this world. He gasped. He was sitting on what seemed to be the back of a dragon. A huge, red and black dragon with golden eyes. There were three others beside him. One boy, one girl, and a small, vibrantly colored peacock. Paul assumed this to be a Digimon like Calumon. All stared at him.
"Where's Calumon?" Paul was suddenly defensive. "What have you done with him?"
The one named Brad stared at Paul with an expression of complete bewilderment on his face.
"Oh, you mean that Digimon you were with? Yeah, we got him, too. He was a little bit injured, so I had Dragomon hold him in his pouch."
"Dragomon?"
"Oh, my Digimon. He's flying us over the Forest as we speak. My name's Brad, by the way, if you didn't know."
"Is that where we were, the Forest?"
He'd forgotten up till now that he'd been in the Forest; it had all happened so fast.
"Yeah. She told us that we would meet someone else like ourselves here, at the Forest Terminal, so we decided to come and check it out."
"She told you?"
Brad stopped talking. He seemed to think he'd said enough. The girl, however, turned to Paul, and spoke to him.
"My name is Rachel," she said, swiveling her head around to Brad, and frowning, "And this is my Digimon, Werkamon. She's really cool."
The familiar sound of T-tectors whirring with data rang through the air. The two others picked up T-tectors of their own and watched as light poured out of them.
Werkamon- Powerful rookie Digimon. Flying type. Not strong enough yet to carry much, but could be a good messenger bird to call for help. This Digimon is rare, and is not often found in very many places throughout the Digital World. It is only loyal to those it serves, and its Razor Feather Wing is proof enough of that to its enemies!
Another whir of information on the T-tectors.
Dragomon- Dragon Digimon. One of the most powerful of the rookie level. It rarely shows affection to just anyone, except its master, unless they know it really well. Its Inferno Flare attack can really heat things up!
Paul stared at the two of them for a moment. The whirring had come from their Digivices! (He recalled, with some amount of anger and frustration that Giga-Piedmon had taken his.) They had Digivices, the same shape, size, knobs on his T-tector, and everything as his own. The only difference Paul could see was the fact that his had been red, and Brad's was yellow, and Rachel's was a bright pink. The light from their Digivices faded, and they tucked their T-tectors back into their pockets.
"You've got them too?"
Brad and Rachel nodded fervently.
"We got our Digimon and our T-tectors when we arrived," said Brad, pensively. "Come to think of it, I don't know how long ago that was. It must have been months by now."
Brad seemed to have been struck by a sudden thought.
"Here," he said, and he reached behind him, in a little skin pocket behind the dragon's left ear, and pulled something out, handing it to Paul graciously.
"It's what I found of your luggage. We had to split mighty fast to get out of there, so I didn't manage to get it all, but I got your clothes, T-tector, egg, you know, the important stuff."
Paul stared at his newly reacquired belongings. He had half a mind to thank Brad, but at the same time, for some reason, he didn't trust him.
"Brad, I don't mind carrying you guys around, or your foolish friends, but if you continue to talk, I am afraid I will have to toss you off my back."
The voice came from the dragon's head. Paul called out to it.
"Do you have Calumon?"
"Yes. He's fine, like Brad said, but be quiet now, there's danger afoot."
And almost immediately after he'd said that, the wind picked up, and Paul fell off the dragon.
Chapter Six
The Hatching
Paul fell through the air like a dead weight, never stopping. His back was to the ground. Should he hit the ground, the fall would break his back, and he would be dead. He was going to die here, without anyone but Brad and Rachel there to see him off into the next world. His mother would never know he died here.
Show me all of your secrets. Display them outwardly!
Who was speaking? Paul didn't have the faintest clue. All he knew was that he was falling.
And yet he wasn't falling, there was light all around him. The Digivice was encasing him in a sphere of light.
He stopped falling. But he didn't understand it, what was happening. The Digivice was warm in his hand.
Paul was bathed in the light. He only then realized that he was naked, though, somehow, he felt unperturbed by it. There was no one to sneer at him, no one to point or make fun of his nudity. He was simply alone.
And yet at the same time, he wasn't.
"Where am I?"
His own voice, from within him; strangely magnified, yet soothing, melodic. Then an answer.
Within me.
"Why did you want me here?"
All things have spirits, Paul. I am particularly interested in yours. Yours is a troubled yet calm one; I feel a strange sensation whenever I am near it. Why are you troubled?
"Father."
Yes, I see some anxiety within your spirit. About your father. He is. gone then?
"Yes. He is in the Saturn Star."
More familiarity. Paul remembered a strange computer laboratory, and a crying mother. His goal: The Saturn Star.
He knew from all his memories where he should go.
The Saturn Star is the one place where you can find him. Well, I can't say I know where it is. You will find it though, with the help or your Digimon.
Taichimon. That was his Digimon. The note on his computer said so.
"Who are you?"
But there was no answer, and Paul awoke amidst confusion. He had no idea where he was, nor what he was doing. All he knew was that he was now back on a dragon.
A familiar voice spoke.
"You alright?"
Brad.
"You went all glazed. It was like you weren't with us anymore."
Rachel.
"Yeah, like you were in another world or something."
Paul stared at Rachel and Brad. So he had never even fallen off Dragomon. Had it all been a dream? A vision? \ It had seemed so real somehow.
"What's up?" Rachel asked.
"What? Oh. nothing."
Rachel and Brad exchanged looks of concern.
Original idea by: the Digimon creators
Introduction
The tiny Digimon flew over the vast Digital Plains, which made up about half of the actual terrain. His name was Calumon, and for someone his size, he moved fairly quickly. He was on a mission to leave the Digital World.
The Real World lay on the other side of the void in the sky. It shimmered in the clouds, peeking out at him from behind gold-flecked puffs of white.
As most Digimon knew, in the Digital World, you could see the Real World hanging in the sky. In the same respect, on certain occasions, you could see the Digital World from Earth.
The Real World looked every bit as real as the Digital World. Calumon knew his mission: he had to find the newest Digi-Destined. He had to help them to digivolve.
Something roared in the distance, far away, off across the plain of grass. Calumon sped up.
Dust swirled around him as he flew. He coughed, spluttered, and kept on going.
There it was, dead ahead of him. It was the ancient village of Power, the only place where the two worlds collided, overlapped. It was the only place that one could travel in between the two worlds safely.
The village itself was a bunch of abandoned mud huts. Calumon knew that they never used to be there, that he'd been there before them, but he somehow couldn't remember what had been there instead of them.
He soared around the little huts, squeaking with a little bit of nervousness. Then he saw what he'd come here to see. The stream of data that led to the Real World.
A roar exploded nearby. A hut was flattened as a huge, three-toed foot fell down on top of it.
Calumon didn't stop to turn around. He flew on, quickly, more quickly than he ever had before, and kept his eyes on the huge rift in front of him.
"Oh no," he muttered softly to no one but the air, "He sounds really mad now!"
Suddenly everything went dark. Nothing twitched or stirred. The data stream that led to the Real World flickered and disappeared.
Calumon turned around. There, about twenty feet away, was what looked like a person, but was far too big to be one.
Something long forgotten in his memory stirred.
MEGAMYOTISMON- Evil fiend type Digimon with terrific dark power. If he doesn't destroy you at first, just wait- his Shadow Energist Power will certainly leave you in the dark! (LITERALLY) At all costs, avoid this Digimon.
Calumon shivered, not from fear, but from a sudden rush of cold that came along with the evil creature. It was like being in a Dark Realm. Nothing but light could bring warmth, even the tiny Digimon knew it.
"Infant of the Light," he said, coming closer, and Calumon found he couldn't move. "Surrender to me your power! Give it to me!"
"Power? What are you talking about?!" Calumon screamed at him.
"Delete yourself, and give me your data so that I may make my army the most incredible of all! Shadow Energist Power!"
Calumon saw the ray of darkness coming at him just before it was about to hit him. The triangle on his forehead glowed.
Everything went back to the way it was. Light flooded everywhere. The data stream shot from the sky, plummeting downwards. It struck the ground right where Calumon was standing.
Chapter One
The Digimon Creator
It was April. The clouds came together, merging, to form rainstorms. The raindrops, huge crystals of silver liquid, came barraging the windows as a teenager sat in a three-story house. The Internet whirred and bleeped on his computer as Paul Gadder entered in data. The machine whirred some more.
A map of the Digital World popped up. Mountains, deserts, forests, beaches, and other such landmarks came into focus on the old computer screen. Paul laughed. Finally, after so many weeks of hard labor, tuning his computer to allow him to download the Digital World program, he had done it. The entire Digi-World games, software, info, and contacts were logged into his computer. He knew his dad would be so proud of him.
As far as fathers went, his dad was pretty cool. His dad loved computers, even as much as Paul. This was one of many things the two of them had in common. The two of them even looked alike, both of them with fiery, vibrant red hair, almost neon blue eyes, and square-rimmed spectacles.
His father was an investigator of the Internet, of the various crimes that went on there. He sometimes traveled overseas, to see where the different digital signals were coming from, if they looked suspicious.
Paul felt that the download was a success, a stroke of brilliance, being able to take a computer which was so old nobody thought would be able to be compatible with the Digimon software, and making it compatible. All he'd needed to do was to go to Yahoo.com to find upload materials.
Adamantly pleased with himself, he slapped himself on the back (not hard, of course) and clicked into an opening file. A name blared up, in red and blue letters, which stated,
NEWEST DIGIMON CREATIONS! MAKE ONE YOURS! Paul chuckled quickly at the thought of his very own Digimon. It would be cool, the perfect thing for a nerd like him.
He clicked into the file further. A set of names came up on screen.
Among them, there were:
Backralamon
Gorgiomon
Triuildamon
Hespressmon
Flamedramon
Icedramon
Taichimon
He needed something catchy. He looked to the end of the list. Taichimon. Perfect!
As he straightened up in his chair, he clicked into the "Digimon Stats" file.
Here's what came up.
Taichimon:
Description: An electro-type Digimon with one big load of electric energy. Most of this he derives from magnetism particularly from the Poles, but he could use the energy of storms. Enemies had better beware of his loyalty, his great spirit, and his Electro-Tornado Attack!
Stats: Very fast and agile, with a power to match. Can leap high into the air as well as far distances, though his traction isn't that good, mainly because he doesn't have claws to anchor himself if he goes flying. Can be a little bit sassy at first, but once he likes you, you'll need a great deal of your own power to get him away from you!
Paul clicked into the "Picture" box. A picture of a small bear came up. It looked and resembled a teddy bear, with metal paws, one that said, "S" for south, and the other "N" for north. On its head was a metal helmet, with a little jagged lightning bolt inscribed on it.
Paul looked at it for a few seconds, then said to himself,
"I'll take it!" and clicked the "Download Digimon" icon. Instantaneously, bleeps and beeps of the whirring Internet filled his ears.
"Loading." said the computer graciously, making Paul impatient. How long would it take?
But a few minutes later, the whirring stopped, and Paul admired his newest Digimon. His first Digimon.
He was proud of himself.
He was so proud of himself that he almost didn't hear his mother calling.
"Paul! Could you come here for a second?" Paul clicked the save icon and logged off. What Paul didn't know when he left the room was that his computer was doing something weird. The Digimon on the screen, which Paul had saved to the hard-drive, was moving. Moving fast.
The kitchen danced with Paul's vertigo as he tried to comprehend.
"Gone? What do you mean, gone?" His mother was crying, but Paul made no effort to console her.
"Your father is gone, Paul. He was last seen in Barcelona, Spain, investigating some criminal signal coming from the Internet. Paul, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this. But. he's presumed dead, even though no one's found a body. I don't know how we'll manage without him!" Paul's ears were ringing with the weight of what he was hearing. His dad couldn't be dead, could he? Not the famous Paul Gadder, the one who'd preceded him as another Paul? Not the one person in the entire world who could care about his obsession with the Internet, with Digimon?
"Mom," Paul said unbelievingly, "He can't be dead, he just can't be. I know he's still alive. Can't anyone do something about it?"
His mother's tears, streaming down her face, seemed so sad that he knew her answer.
Paul felt the agony of this as well, and ran to his room. He fell onto his bed in a heap. His tears felt hot against his flesh as he cried. He reminded himself that fourteen-year-olds didn't cry, especially boys. The tears began to plug up, making his face feel like it would explode. His father was the only friend he'd ever had. None of the people in school were willing to be friends with him, particularly because he was the smartest kid in the grade, and everyone but the upperclassmen felt inferior of him.
He couldn't take the prospect that his only friend, his father, was gone. He wouldn't take it.
He looked up at the computer, and saw it. The computer was whirring. The picture of the Digimon was spinning.
Paul reached over to the bedside table, picked up a floppy disk, and approached the computer.
The whirring didn't stop as Paul saved it to computer disk.
Paul turned, and the floppy disk fell out of his hands as he collapsed to the floor in a heap. Sleep would come soon, and Paul had to be ready for tomorrow.
Chapter Two
Calumon's Entrance
It was amazing how quickly everything went by after that. It seemed like only seconds before Paul was out for the summer. Despite this, his father's disappearance loomed dark in his mind, like an omen, and whenever someone tried to talk it out with him, be it his mother, uncles, aunts, even grandmothers, Paul used the best excuse he could think of to get away from them. He often used the fabled, "Could you excuse me, please? I think I left my computer on again."
Whether they actually believed him, or were just allowing him to leave out of respect for his feelings, Paul didn't know or care. To him, life was now more or less a giant whirlpool, dragging down every ounce of order in his life.
The strange part of his dilemma was the fact that despite everything he did to try to get away from those who wanted to talk to him about it, he really did want to talk about it with someone. The complicated part of this, however, was that he wanted to talk to his father. He wanted him to give him a high-five, say, "Hey, kiddo, let's go do something," and then they would do whatever. He wanted him to come strolling into his bedroom and ask him what was wrong. He wanted a lot of things, but unfortunately, he wouldn't be getting them anytime soon.
The summer was a living hell, now that he didn't have anyone to hang out with, (he had no friends) and Paul was beginning to consider getting a job. He was only fourteen, but he could still mow people's lawns, and it would give him some spending money to use on who knew what. It would help him to keep his mind off of his dad, where he might be. Paul still hadn't given up on his father yet; at the beginning of the summer he'd posted a search for his father over the Internet, which included a brief description of him, his picture, and where he was last seen. Paul had high hopes for it; the Internet hadn't failed him yet. But no one had seen him, or if they had, it had been weeks, months, or even years prior to his disappearance.
Paul didn't understand any of it. Five months ago, everything had seemed right. Everything had seemed perfect. Although he had no social life, he lived in (virtually) a Utopia. His father had always come home precisely at six o'clock, not a moment before or later, and his mother would always say,
"Are you back again? Jeez, you just can't keep yourself away from me, can you?"
And his father would laugh richly and reply,
"Not even the job can keep me away from my sweetheart, Babe."
Paul's father would then kiss his mother on the cheek quickly, and settle himself down next to Paul (Paul was usually in the room when his father came home). He would ask how his day had been, and the answer to this had always been genuine:
"Dad, it was great!"
Or, if the day hadn't gone so well, his father would always say,
"Well, kiddo, there's always tomorrow to make things right."
He would then serenade the two of them with the song, Lean on Me, and his mother and father would dance to it, smiling.
There were almost always smiles in the house; Paul could never think of more than one big fight in the house per year.
Even after major fights, everyone involved apologized, and they went on with their lives, almost as though it had never happened.
Paul wanted that life back more than anything he could ever have wanted, and would have traded all he owned (which was a lot, and was worth hundreds) to retrieve it.
But life went on, and day by day, Paul began to dread waking up each morning to check the Internet posting. The number of people logging on with any information at all was decreasing by the day, but Paul knew he couldn't give up. He had great technology on his side, and would do whatever it took to find him.
The days wore on, through the rest of June, boring into his brain like tiny needles, until Paul had to lock himself in his room and scream. The pressures were becoming too much for him to handle. His mother was finding it difficult to get a job (she'd never needed one until her husband vanished, because he'd left them both a great fortune, but it was slowly dwindling) and she often told Paul to leave the house so she could be alone for awhile.
On these occasions, there being nothing else to do on a humid summer's eve, Paul would wander the streets until the lights came on. He would then make his way to the library, mainly because the librarians never asked too many questions about why he was out so late when he should have been at home for curfew (there wasn't an actual law-enforced curfew in the village, but it was considered bad form to be out later than ten o'clock). Paul would look through magazines, play games on the Web, and practice his chess skills with an old hermit who had been the champion of the town some fifty years before.
"Chess can teach you a lot about life," the old man would say, "Can teach you to respect your opponent, can teach you to mind what you do, but most importantly to never give yourself away easily."
In one match, the man pointed to his queen, now threatening Paul's queen, and said,
"In my next turn, you would be expecting me to take that, wouldn't you?"
Paul had nodded without saying anything. The old man laughed.
"Well, my friend, don't assume anything. Think of other ways I could beat you. Expect the unexpected."
Paul had looked at the board with growing frustration, and noticed across the board, a rook was poised to strike, and a bishop was positioned four squares to the northwest of the king.
Paul had moved his king out of check, causing his opponent to take the queen.
Paul had lost that match, but hadn't forgotten the words of wisdom the old man had shared.
Expect the unexpected.
It seemed like everything was unexpected around here. He had heard on the news that a snowstorm had erupted in the Caribbean, and it wasn't small, either. It was almost as large as a hurricane.
Paul didn't have time to dwell on the weather patterns. A thought approached his mind every time his saw his mother.
YOUR DAD'S DEAD, MAN! GET OVER IT! HE'S NEVER COMING BACK, AND YOU'RE KIDDING YOURSELF IF YOU THINK THAT A WEBSEARCH AND A PICTURE ARE GOING TO HELP HIM OUT NOW! HE IS DEAD.
He would shake his head wildly to rid it of this thought.
MY FATHER WILL BE COMING BACK, AND WHEN HE DOES, IT WILL SHOW ALL THOSE IDIOTS WHO THINK HE COULD DIE THAT MY DAD ISN'T THAT PATHETIC!
One night in late July, Paul lay awake in his king-size bed, in his grand three-story house, contemplating his life as it was now. His mother was dating a guy from work, (she had recently been hired as a secretary at a law firm) a sign that she had given up on her husband coming back, and was trying to move on, and his aunt had moved in with them, taking it upon herself to make Paul do all the dishes after supper, to do all the cleaning of his room, his mother's room, and her own. Paul had done everything without complaint, surprising even his mother (Paul rarely helped out around the house without complaining). Life was turning upside-down, so, heck, why not throw in some extra chores as well, just to give it more zest?
In his free time, Paul locked himself in his room, blocking out all sounds except for his fingers clicking away at the keyboard.
He was now desperate, and his mother was starting to worry. That night at supper she'd asked,
"Paul, do you think I should sign you up for some counseling? I think it would help you move on."
Paul had shrugged, asked to be excused, and gone back to his computer.
Worrying and obsessing over his father had become a full-time "job" for him, aside from the occasional call of anybody who needed their lawn mowed, or their kids taken care of.
Paul turned over, his brain juggling all these thoughts in his head.
The computer clicked on of its own accord.
Paul blinked. Screwing his eyes up, he saw that the Digimon WebPages had been accessed. Words had almost magically appeared on them; little tiny dots in a visionary blur of colors, shades, and partial light. Paul put on his glasses and stepped out of bed, feeling the floorboards bend under his weight.
He sat down at a desk next to his computer, wondering what was going on. Someone had sent him a message.
Hello, Paul. Are you there?
Fascinated, Paul began to type back.
Hello, yes, I'm here. Who is this, and how do you know my name?
Words blossomed back in response.
I am someone who you've known since you were very small. I am here to help you.
His hands began to pump out sweat. Could it possibly be.?
Are you my father?
The words came back slowly, and Paul felt disappointment settle like a rock inside of him.
No. I am not your father.
All of the high hopes, nervousness, and partial excitement ebbed away. But the message went on:
I may know where he is, though, and how you can find him. I can also give you a chance to bring him back...
Paul responded quickly.
Please, tell me whatever you know. Where is my father?
He is within the Saturn Star, which is where you must go. I know how you can get there, but you will need a few things first.
What will I need?
You will need a T-Tector Digi-vice, and you will also need a Digimon of your own for protection.
Paul stopped for a second. Digimon weren't real. There were TV shows, of course, but there were no such things as Digimon. How could he have one of his own if they didn't exist?
Digimon aren't real. Is this some kind of joke? You have my father, now where is he?
For your father's sake, I beg you not be doubtful of what I'm telling you. I don't have your father with me, because if I did, I would return him to your side in an instant. But the place he is being held is far too dangerous for even I to venture off into. You, however, have a chance. Now, do you want this chance or not?
Paul felt scared. What if he was talking to some kind of kidnapper or a serial killer? Paul timidly responded,
Yes. What do I have to do?
First, tell no one of this conversation. Second, there is a floppy disk on your bedroom floor beside your chair. Pick it up and put it in your disk drive.
As Paul turned, his initial reaction was how on earth whoever was logging onto the computer knew how there was a floppy disk on the floor next to his chair. If this person knew that, then how much else of him did they know?
Shaking wildly, Paul placed the floppy disk in the drive.
"Downloading," the computer whirred.
The familiar picture of Taichimon blared up on screen.
Good. Now, do you want this Digimon to be your own?
An icon popped up.
Yes No
Paul hesitated, then clicked yes.
There is a calculator in the desk drawer. Take it out and hold it up to the screen.
Paul felt his hands slip as he pulled at the knob of metal in the desk. Sure enough, inside was a graphing calculator, one his mother had bought him for AP STAT in a few years.
Paul held it up to the computer cautiously. Instantly, the computer was covered in digital code. 1's and 0's blared up.
The code shot out of the computer in a flash of light and enveloped the calculator.
Paul felt his hands go numb with pain and he let go.
Light was everywhere in the room now, and he felt the light all around him as though it were tangible.
After a few seconds the light stopped, and all that was left was something oval-shaped hovering in front of the computer. It fell backwards, and Paul caught it with both hands.
What he was holding was a red egg-shaped thing, with several buttons and knobs, and a tiny square screen, which seemed to show the map of the Digital World that Paul had been looking at before he heard word of his father's disappearance.
Words appeared on screen again.
This is your T-Tector Digi-vice. It will guide you and aid you throughout your journey. Never you lose this, for it will come in handy. Are you ready for your journey to begin?
Paul was about to reply very hotly,
"What is going on here?" when he saw that the T-Tector was shining. A ray of light spewed out of it, and before Paul could understand what was happening, the light formed itself into the shape of an egg.
The egg was spotted, colored spots, and was even bigger than an ostrich's.
Paul typed in exactly what he'd wanted to say before.
What is going on? What is this egg?
It is your Digimon. He is not hatched yet, but when he hatches, he will be your guardian. You, also, must watch over him. Don't let him get hurt.
Now you must go to the Digital World. Be sure to inform those who love you that you are leaving. Your adventure shall start tomorrow at noon. Be here at your computer and be ready to leave.
Will I be alone? Aside from my Digimon, I mean?
No. There will be others. You will find them throughout your journey. Don't ever be alone in the Digital World. Find someone to go with you always.
There is one last thing you must have with you before I leave you till tomorrow. Calumon is in dire need of protection. He is the Infant of Light, and he has been in my protection for the last few months. I've been making sure that he has not crossed to your side, the Earth, before it was safe. Creatures in this world are hunting him. It is your job- your fate- to keep him safe from harm. He shall stay with you tonight in your world, and return with you tomorrow to a safe place in the Digital World.
I must leave you now. Farewell, and good luck.
The computer whirred one last time. A bolt of light shot out from the screen. This light too, was oval-shaped, and looked somehow solid. Like a rocket, it sped from the screen and materialized in midair, falling to the ground in a lump. It was white, and it stuck out like a sore thumb in all the darkness around him.
Paul went over to it. A soft purring came from the creature, and then it shot up, curled itself around Paul's neck, and began squeaking uncontrollably.
"Quiet," Paul whispered to it.
Surprisingly, it did.
"Why are people so mean?" it whispered.
Paul agreed silently, and at that moment realized that the creature was a small, rat-shaped animal, with a red triangle on his forehead.
His T-tector glowed. A metallic, perky voice echoed out of it.
"Calumon- Rat type Digimon of Light. Has an extraordinary power of helping others to digivolve. Doesn't have that many powerful attacks, but can give others the power to fight in his stead."
He began to shiver, and Paul held him close. He had never had any siblings, so he didn't understand how to hug someone younger than himself, but he did know how to care for someone, and it seemed that the creature was welcoming it.
Paul had nowhere for the little thing to sleep, so he allowed it to sleep in his bed, fluffing up the cushion so that he would be comfortable. Paul couldn't sleep anyway. So much had happened, and so much of it Paul wanted to be explained.
Almost all of what had happened tonight Paul wanted to dismiss as a figment of his imagination, but although he half-wanted this to be a dream, because it would make the most sense, Paul at the same time half-wanted it to be real. He wanted the information about his father to be valid, reassuring. He wanted to believe in a chance to get his father back, and he would believe in anything from goblins to Orcs to trolls if it would enable him to do it.
At the thought of trolls and other such creatures, Paul felt a wave of apprehension roll through him. If he did go on this journey, what if he got into a battle with a dragon or something like that? He'd only seen glimpses of what the Digital World was like, so if most of it were uncharted, then how would he navigate? What if he couldn't find that place. what was it. The Saturn Star?
Paul fought these thoughts with all his might, and forced himself to believe in his own abilities,
He crossed to his bed, pulled the covers up over Calumon's limp body, and then placed the egg beside it. He sat by the window for the rest of the night.
Chapter Three
Saying Goodbye
The prospect of leaving his mother behind started to seem impossible the following morning, when he came down to find her making pancakes, hiding a sadness Paul knew only too well behind an expression of joy. His aunt, apparently, had gone out; her tiny handbag that was almost always over the kitchen fireplace was nowhere to be seen.
"Hey sweetie," said Paul's mother as she dropped a pancake onto the floor. She cursed, bent over, retrieved the pancake, and tried to recreate that same fake aura of happiness.
Paul smiled a phony smile of his own to equal his mother's, and sat down at the kitchen table. His mother put all the pancakes she'd made already onto a tray and joined him.
They ate, and Paul couldn't look at her without feeling somewhat guilty. The food tasted sour in his mouth, almost as if he were eating lemons.
He had to cut to the chase.
"Ma," he said, and a look in her eyes almost made him want to stay, "I've got to go."
"Go where, sweetie?"
Why did her eyes have to be that bright and welcoming? It was almost unnatural. He knew he had to leave, that he had to find his father, but somehow he felt he had to stay.
"Away. Far away. Just for awhile."
"Sweetheart, you haven't answered my question. Where exactly are you going?"
She seemed about to cry hysterically, and that's all she would have needed to do to get him to stay.
"It's somewhere where Dad is," he said, and that was it. His mother said nothing for a moment, tried to look somewhat puzzled, but Paul knew it to be no more than a mask.
"Nothing you do can make me stay, so I'm just gonna go. Dad's out there, and I'm not gonna stop till I find him. I've got a chance, Ma."
His mother turned, her eyes bloodshot, four months of sadness shining through them.
"Stop it, just stop it, okay?"
She covered her eyes again. and Paul turned away as if she'd just turned hideous.
Paul fingered the T-Tector Digi-Vice in his pocket for luck, then went on, in a calm voice,
"Ma, I'm not lying. I've got to go. But I will come back, I promise. I-"
She then started to scream, and high resonating notes filled not only the kitchen, but the whole house.
"You can't go anywhere! I won't allow it!"
"Ma-"
"No! My answer is final!"
"Let him go."
The voice had come from near the radiator, echoing out fiercely. All turned to see Paul's aunt standing in the doorway, her palm on the radiator, an expression on her face that Paul couldn't identify.
"Janis," said Paul's mother as though she had just seen her for the first time in years, "Good, you're up. Will you please talk some sense into Paul for me?"
Aunt Janis turned to Paul and, with an almost deadly expression, she warned him to keep his mouth shut.
"Let him go, Diane. He seems to know more about this than we do. If he needs to go, then let him go. He'll be back soon. He might need to do something that we can't help with."
"I don't care, okay?" his mother seemed almost petrified. "My husband can't be anywhere you're going! The police have already searched." but then she broke off, as though she didn't really believe it, like they could've searched further.
"Mom, I'm going to leave anyway. There's nothing you can say that will make me stay. But I'll tell you this Mom. I'm coming back. That's a promise. I'm coming back. And I'll come back with Dad."
His mother burst into tears at this point, and Paul had to stand up and look away to keep from following suit.
Aunt Janis went over to his mother and consoled her, putting her arms around her.
"Paul, just go, please. Your Mom needs a bit of time away from us for awhile. I've got to go grocery shopping. So please. just go." Paul turned. Everything was happening too fast. He'd half expected his aunt to side with his mother, and he didn't know whether any of this seemed real. What if nothing happened at noon? Would his mother be angry, thinking it was all some elaborate joke?
As he left the room, his aunt called after him,
"Please be careful, wherever you're going."
Drawers lay opened, clothes thrown everywhere, as Paul tried to find suitable outfits to wear on the journey, if there was one at all. Jeans, khakis, T-shirts, shorts, and other such garments littered the floor. Calumon wandered through them, sniffing inside of them.
"Oh wow. this is a big house," he said cheerfully, snuggling up inside a pair of boxers.
Paul couldn't believe how strange it was, to finally have a real-life Digimon in his own house. It was like he was in a dream, a dream that made reality seem so dull and uninteresting.
Paul stuffed two pairs of jeans into a knapsack he'd gotten for Christmas, then scooped up a couple of T-shirts and wedged them in, too. He was picking up three pairs of shorts for a duffel bag he was going to bring along when he noticed Calumon holding his T-tector.
A ray of light was protruding from the tiny little screen, illuminating Calumon's face so brightly it was as if his whole face were made of sun.
"Calumon," Paul said, troubling to keep his voice low so as not to alert his mother. "Give me that, please."
Calumon looked up at him sweetly.
"Well, since you said 'please' I guess I have to, huh?"
He held up the T-tector to Paul, who took it graciously, and the light faded.
"Calumon," Paul asked, but the Digimon was already searching another mismatched clothing item.
Once Paul thought he had all the clothes he would need, he tucked the egg under one of his T-shirts in the bag. He only hoped it would hatch soon so that he could see Taichimon for real.
Paul quickly tiptoed downstairs and into the kitchen. He was relieved to see his mother gone; he didn't think another episode like the one this morning would do her any good. Paul crept (he didn't know why, he had no reason to) to the refrigerator and began stocking himself up on food.
A ham sandwich, a box of old pastries his mother had left untouched for several days, and macaroni and cheese. That was pretty much it. He stuffed them into the bag quickly. Paul checked the breadbox next, combing it for at least a loaf of French bread. Paul knew there usually was an abundance of it. Nevertheless, he only found two rolls and a bagel. Paul took these also, for carbohydrates. Ever since that stupid boyfriend arrived in their lives, he'd been eating them both out of house and home. Paul hated him, and wished his mother had never met him. He wasn't mean; it was just that he was always around, and he seemed to want to replace Paul's father.
Paul scoured the oven for anything his mother may have left behind, but there was nothing. Paul eyed the pancakes they'd had for breakfast with a certain delight, and took as much as he could from the dining room table.
When all was done, Paul thought that the amount of food he'd collected would last him up to a couple of days, if he took care not to lose any of it, or eat it too quickly.
Paul retreated to his bedroom, where Calumon was lying on his back on the bed.
Paul checked the clock. Eleven-thirty AM. He had one half hour to spare before he had to go. Paul didn't know what else he had to do before he went. He had food, clothes, what else did he need?
He went to the closet, and pulled out something he hadn't used since he was eight. It was a sleeping bag, and he had only used it at a summer camp. He was probably too big for it, but he put it in one of the three bags he would bring, and flopped onto his bed next to Calumon.
He checked his Digivice. What had made that light go on? And, more importantly, how come it shut off when he held it?
He decided not to worry about it now. What he needed to worry about now was where he was going. What if the Digital World was terrible? How could he find his father?
He shook his head to rid it of this thought. He didn't need thoughts like that now. What he really needed was someone who understood how he felt about leaving. He didn't want to leave, but at the same time, he could feel a longing to go to the Digital World, like he had always been waiting to be there.
Time dripped by in a monotonous fashion, with Calumon jumping up and down within the room. Paul sometimes felt a weird need to tell him off for it, and then kept it in.
The whole half hour was spent on Paul beating himself up about his mother, her feelings, and his aunt. They were so worried about him. and he had made a promise to them that he would return. And he would, no matter what.
Chapter Four
What Happened at Twelve Noon
Twelve.
The clocks chimed throughout the house. Paul sat at the computer with all his bags packed and ready to go, waiting for whatever might happen.
A message appeared on screen.
Hello Paul. Are you ready to leave?
Paul, seeing the message, felt a thrill shoot up through his body, originating in his toes. He responded instantaneously.
Yes. How am I getting to the Digital World?
Follow your Digivice.
That was it. There was nothing else. No directions, no other instructions, just those three words. Follow your Digivice.
Paul had pocketed the Digivice minutes before twelve. He took it out, and to his amazement, saw that instead of that map of the Digital World, there was a map of his world, and a digital compass. A blinking light shown five blocks away from his house on the map, where a bunch of old computer labs were.
Paul quickly shut off his computer, grabbed his bags, and went to the door. Calumon jumped off the bed, hopped into his bag, and began making a nest out of the sleeping bag Paul had put in one of them. Paul stepped out, walking along the landing to the banister.
Normally, he would have slid down it, but the adult part of him told him not to. When he reached the front door, a voice called out,
"You're really leaving, then?"
Paul turned to see his aunt, wearing a polka-dotted apron and oven mitts. She looked like she'd been making cookies.
"I guess I can't stop you. You're a lot like your dad. He went on a lot of adventures too."
Paul desperately wanted to leave this place as quickly as possible.
"Go, if you want. But Paul. take this with you."
She extended her hand, and Paul saw within it an Irish whistle, made of tin.
Paul reached out and took it, cradling it in his hands like a jewel.
"Your mother got that for you when you were just a baby," she said, "It will remind you of her. Don't forget us, please. I love you, Paul. Please, for her sake, be careful."
She embraced Paul then, and Paul smelt her perfume like pure lavender. He ended it without speaking, and went through the door.
The summer sun was burning his eyes, and it occurred to Paul that he should have brought his sun-block.
Oh well, Paul thought, Nothing I can do about it now. I'm not going back.
He turned onto Main Street, still following the orders of the T- tector, went dead ahead toward the edge of town. The noon day sun was overhead, and was far hotter than Paul had anticipated.
The T-tector switched to a different direction after several blocks, going east. Paul turned the corner at the next intersection.
A set of warehouses lay in front of him, guarded by a long fence. The fence itself was long and old. Rust had spread all over it, like some kind of creepy vermin.
Paul hopped the fence quickly, feeling that icky rust grate off all over his fingers, and then proceeded to the warehouses.
Paul had been told by his father more than once that these warehouses used to be labs, but that now they were abandoned. No business dared to settle here, because they were supposedly haunted. Several years previously, someone had died from electric shock at one of the computers in the lab, and the company had gone under almost immediately afterward.
Paul crossed the compound, starting to get that eerie feeling that he was being watched.
Paul approached the door. It was glass, but from all the dust around the compound and the neglect of the laboratories, it had lost its clearness to a murky brown.
Paul was two feet from the door when it opened of its own accord. Paul hesitated, unsure of what was going on, then went in.
The grand lobby of the building had rundown computers, and had the appearance of a place that had once held many people, and was of the greatest social class.
Paul moved through the lobby silently, and for a second, he felt a thrill of anxiety ripple through him. It had only been transient, but he had felt a strange presence in the room.
The T-tector began to speak.
"Paul."
Paul jumped, then gazed intently at the T-tector.
"Your destiny lies beyond that door. Go to it."
A ray of light spread out from the Digivice and fell upon an old door to an elevator off to his left.
Curious, Paul trotted over to the elevator door. He was about to press the down button when the elevator opened.
Thinking that the doors opening of their own doing was getting a bit repetitive, Paul carefully stepped into the elevator, hoping that an old elevator like this wouldn't fall.
It didn't fall, but it swung a little, making Paul a little nervous. The doors closed quietly behind him.
Before Paul could press any buttons, he was going down. Fast. Paul screamed like he'd never screamed before. This was it. He was going to die. The elevator would crash, and all that would be left of the nerdy Paul Gadder would be his brains smeared across the concrete basement floor. It was only a matter of moments till death.
Then the elevator stopped. It jerked a bit, and Paul was thrown off his feet into the air. His bags flew in his face as the elevator doors opened and expelled him outward onto the ground. He heard Calumon's scream just in time to turn in midair to cushion the bag he was in.
They landed on some kind of rug. Calumon popped his head out of the bag and sneezed.
"Whoa, where are we?"
Indeed, where were they? It didn't look like any other part of the building. There were new computers in here, and it looked like this place had been used for decades. It most certainly didn't look abandoned.
Paul straightened up, feeling his backside sear with pain. He didn't know which was worse, falling in an elevator, or falling out of it.
There were twenty computers in this room, and none of them looked like one could buy them in a store. It looked to Paul like they'd all been built out of parts from other computer systems.
A message appeared on one nearest to Paul.
So you have come. Will you go to the Digital World now?
Paul approached the computer, and noticed that whoever had owned it also could access the Digimon homepage.
Yes. What must I do?
Hold out your Digivice to the computer screen.
Paul, having never put away the T-tector in the first place, looked at it and then held it up to the computer.
Nothing happened. What was going on? Was this some kind of prank? Had he come all this way for nothing?
Paul checked his watch. 12:30. He'd been at this for half an hour.
"Analyzing." the computer said in a sharp, metallic voice.
The computer blazed with digital code, billions upon billions of zeroes and ones. All others in the room did this as well, until the room was a penetrating white.
Paul pulled the Digivice away from the computer, suddenly afraid. As the rest of the room began to glow, so did Calumon.
"Ohh." whispered the creature, and then glowed a bright red.
The computer blasted light out of the screen, and codes instantly wrapped themselves around Paul's body. Paul was drowning in light.
"Transporting."
And then came Paul's scream. It tore through the room, and then Paul couldn't see the room at all.
Chapter Five
The Digi-destined
Paul had never felt so dazed in all his life. He was floating. floating over a vast, wide open abyss, and he was not falling.
The light was green. emerald. like his mother's eyes.
His mother. where was she? How. did he. get here?
Paul felt things going by him in the light. Shadows. creatures. could they be Digimon?
"Wow." whispered Calumon, his red triangle shining again. The abyss widened. The light shone brighter.
Paul felt like he was between sleep and awake. He was groggy, and he felt like he had jetlag. He had nausea seemingly all over his body, and he felt somehow too weary.
Light obscured Paul's vision as he slipped out of consciousness.
That alien-like green light was the first thing he saw as he awoke. That abyss was below him like before, and debris was littered everywhere. 0's and 1's were floating through midair slowly.
Paul tried to move, but as he did, he felt that sick feeling shoot through him again.
He lolled over on his back, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He had come to the Digital World, but he didn't know where he'd landed, and wherever it was, he was sure he didn't like it.
How would he ever get out of here? Every time he tried to go anywhere, that awful nausea took hold, and he wanted to puke. Maybe he should have listened to his mom.
"Where am I?"
Echoes.
His voice carried through the abyss, bouncing, rebounding off invisible walls.
Calumon spoke.
"It's a data field. They're like passages to the Digital World. We're not in the Digital World yet."
His voice too, echoed and rebounded in the abyss.
"How do we get to the Digital World, then?"
Again, echoes.
"That depends on you. When you're here, you choose the exit."
Paul didn't quite understand. Choose? How could he choose how to leave this place?
"Take me. down, I guess."
A giant whirlwind of sound and color exploded all around him. That same nausea gripped him fiercely. He was being sucked downward. Fast. It reminded Paul of the elevator ride.
Down. down. in flashes of green light.
When Paul awoke, he was surprised to find that he survived the fall. He rubbed his head, sat up, looked around, and was relieved to find all his luggage safely on the ground beside him.
Still remembering vividly the trip here, Paul stood up.
He was in a forest. Lush, green-stemmed leaves poured themselves outward like huge hands, and by the look of most of the plants, this place seemed tropical. Paul had never seen anything like it.
The place he'd landed in appeared to be a clearing in a vast wood. Paul lifted a few branches out of the way to see exactly how far this forest stretched. Trees seemed to be put everywhere, dotted in the ground every which way. Screeches and calls of what Paul assumed to be birds resonated throughout the wood.
Sunlight (or what Paul thought was its facsimile) poured down through a luscious canopy, illuminating everything so that it had the effect of being green.
As Paul stood there, gazing out at the enormous expanse of green, he felt a strange living vibe radiating off of everything in the wood. It was like the very air had a living power, a living essence.
Is this the Digital World? he thought. It seems so real. I'd always imagined the Digital World to be a bunch of binary code, but it seems to be alive, somehow.
Paul picked up his luggage and began to walk through the forest, feeling the "living vibe" growing thicker.
The trees seemed to press in on him from every direction, and Paul thought, with some degree of terror, that it was like being in a vice.
For a long time Paul walked, until he felt that this forest was just as dense as the data field.
He sat down on a pile of leaves and began to ponder what this place really was.
As he sat down, he felt a slight poke in the region of his back pocket.
Reaching down inside it, Paul withdrew the tin whistle his aunt had given him. Surprisingly enough, it hadn't been bent or snapped when they'd fallen through the data field.
I think I'd better hang onto this a bit more carefully, thought Paul, It will remind me that I have a home I need to get back to.
Paul felt a hot tear wriggle its way down his cheek. What if he never got home? Would he be stuck here forever? Would he ever find his father?
Paul began to feel slightly sick. Deciding he shouldn't think about this until he had a clear plan in mind for what he would do, he turned and began to get up.
Calumon groaned, and opened his eyes as he poked his head out of a bag and looked around.
"Ah. the forest."
Paul turned to look at him.
"You- you know this place?"
Calumon blinked.
"Sure I do. It's where I grew up. Though it's changed. somehow. I feel. sleepy."
He yawned deeply, and then collapsed back down onto his back in the clothes next to the egg.
Paul had just noticed it too. He was feeling drowsy, almost as though he couldn't keep walking.
He was so tired all of a sudden. he'd been walking since noon, that had to be over an hour. one rest couldn't hurt.
Paul collapsed down onto the leaves.
He was waking up. he was in a field his father had taken him to. he was only six. he stood up.
There was his father. standing away across a meadow. a meadow full of flowers. he was running towards him.
"PAPA!"
His footsteps were making no imprint on the grass. his arms were open wide.
And there it was behind him. a terrible creature.
I was only six.
"RAGHAGH!"
The roar echoed into his mind from somewhere in his past.
"Daddy!"
But he was gone, consumed in the blackness of the thing behind him, and Paul didn't understand what was happening.
"Daddy! NOOO!"
"He's waking up. Should we tell the boss?"
"Nah. We need him, at least until he tells us what he was doing in our forest."
"Your forest? This forest never belonged to you or anybody. It was just for everyone and everyone alone!" "Quiet, you rotten brat, or I'll delete you, and use your data to become more powerful than before."
The voice who had said that the forest was for everyone had been Calumon, he knew that much, but he couldn't open his eyes for some reason. The image of that thing behind his father was burning behind his eyelids. He tried to move around and found out that he was tied down to a hard surface. His bonds seemed impenetrable; although he tried to break free, he couldn't. A voice broke through the room, and Paul shivered with its intensity. "So the final Digi-Destined has arrived in our world, right? What say you, Trollmon?" Another voice, less harsh, but still just as evil, erupted, to Paul's surprise, beside him. "Yes, my lord, he has one of those things the other kids have. What are they called again?" "A Digivice. A T-tector. It gives him the power to help his Digimon partner to Digivolve. You know of the prophecies, Trollmon, the ones that lie in the vast depths of the Saturn Star?" Something stirred in Paul's memory. Saturn Star? But that was where. his father was hidden! "Aargh." he groaned, and tried to wriggle his way out of his bonds. He opened his eyes slowly. He was in a vast hall. Chandeliers hung from the ceilings, and around him were twenty or so creatures. They looked a bit like trolls. Squinting, he saw that the creatures were all huddled around a man the size of a tree. His Digivice was gone; as he felt for it, he realized, with a jolt of horror, that the man had it in his hand. The T-tector whirred, and spat out data. "Giga-Piedmon- Servant Digimon of Mega-Myotismon. Has great Dark Magic Powers, and will suck up tremendous amounts of dark forces to utilize them. Can and will attack you for data. Beware of his Flame Sword of The Cards!"
Paul looked around quickly. Calumon was hanging on the other side of the room, staring around wildly.
What was Paul going to do? He didn't have his luggage with him, he didn't have anything that could defend him or Calumon. Would he get out of here alive?
"Enough, stupid machine," sneered Giga-Piedmon, "Trollmon, bring the boy to me."
One of the trolls pulled at the bonds on Paul's body, and then moved him into a standing position. He walked him across to the other side of the hall, and for some reason, Paul couldn't move against him. He was petrified of that man, standing away in front of him.
The man loomed ahead of him, dark, menacing, and domineering. His robes swished about him in a dark haze.
Paul wriggled as hard as he could, and tried to call out to Calumon to do the same, but it was all for nothing, he knew.
The guard stopped, and Paul found himself face to disgusting face with Giga-Piedmon. He looked more hideous up close.
Giga-Piedmon bent low, his face coming level with Paul's.
"Ah, the last and final Digi-Destined," he said in a vile whisper, "It is you who bear the last crest. Give it to me!"
The guard punched Paul hard in the ribs, and for a second, Paul was afraid they'd broken. As his breathing normalized, however, he felt no pain as he inhaled, so he figured that nothing had been seriously injured.
"What are you talking about?" The words came out drained of their energy, quietly, and as Paul spoke, he felt as though the only way for him to be heard would be through a microphone.
"The last crest, fool! Of the Digi-Destined! Don't insult my intelligence!"
Paul began to moan in pain and despair.
Come on, Paul. You gonna be a quitter, or are you gonna stand up to that bully, Brad? He doesn't have anything you don't. Stand your ground. Don't let him see fear.
Dad?
No, only an echo of his voice in his memory, telling him to fend for himself against the village bully. It still carried the same message, however, and though every muscle in Paul's body screamed in anguish, Paul did not back down or cry out. He stared deeply into Giga-Piedmon's face and did not look away.
"ANSWER ME!"
But the truth was that Paul Gadder couldn't answer. He had nothing to divulge. There was nothing to do but stand there, standing his ground.
"Do you fear me, boy? Speak! Speak your mind now!"
"No."
"What?"
"NO!"
There, he'd said it. He had told a lie. On many levels, he was terrified of Giga-Piedmon. But he would never let him know it. Not now, not when he so desperately needed to get away from him.
"You do fear me, I can feel it in your emotions. You fear me, yet you deny, and pass off your fears as trivial. Typical of you humans. Better to die bravely than to die a coward. Cowardice, however, can save one's life. Bravery will almost always jeopardize it."
Paul heard what this awful man was saying and yet knew he could not believe it. None of what he had just said could be true, not a word of it. He needed to get out of here. But there was nowhere left to run.
"NOW!"
A huge explosion. Deafening blast. Trollmon knocked off their feet. The world turned upside-down. Paul was suddenly free.
A Digimon bigger in size than Paul was crashed into the hall. He rammed in every direction. It sent Trollmon flying. They scattered as the massive creature hurled forward. It smashed, it crashed. Paul ran. In all the confusion, he couldn't discern where the exits were. He knew, however, that he had vowed to keep Calumon safe from all harm, so that was what he needed to do. Paul traversed the entire vicinity, scouring the place for any sign of Calumon.
His manacles that had clasped him to the wall were broken; he was lying, limp as a rag doll, on the floor. Paul couldn't see his luggage anywhere. At this point, he didn't care about it.
He scooped the tiny Digimon up in his arms, and ran. He didn't care at that moment where he ended up, as long as it was far away from this mob.
On and on he went, the unconscious body of Calumon swinging in his arms.
By the end of the hallway there was a stair, and Paul, by instinct, ran towards it. He got to the top step and tripped.
Pain shot through Paul's body as boy and Digimon fell. The two of them crashed down into the lower regions of the stairwell. They crashed into the walls. They smashed into the banisters. They tumbled, somersaulted. There was nothing they could do to stop it.
By some miracle, they slowed to a stop at the bottom of the stair. Calumon's eyes fluttered. Paul suddenly couldn't breathe, and what he saw next horrified him.
The entire area down here was on fire. Paul gagged. The air down on the ground, where they were, was clean enough, but still, it wasn't clean enough, and Paul felt his breath grow shorter. His consciousness was dwindling.
Through the flames drifted a ghastly figure. Giga-Piedmon. He was taller, more menacing than before. He was holding Paul's T-tector as if it were gold. He began to move faster through the flames toward Paul. Paul tried to move backward, away from him, but he was so devoid of strength he couldn't. The body of Giga[-Piedmon glided over him and the Digivice let out a ray of light. Paul reached up for it, and lost consciousness all together.
Paul rose to wakefulness later, and for the first few minutes after he'd awoken, he was afraid that something terrible had happened after he'd slept. But as his eyes opened, he felt wind on his hair, and he heard voices.
"Do you think he's one of us, Brad?"
A sweet voice, a female voice.
"Not sure. He's got a Digivice and a Digimon; I guess that means he qualifies. Am I right?"
There was a momentary silence. The voice who had spoken was a soft baritone. Then a new voice broke in, this one gravelly and coarse:
"Brad, I can't see very well in this fog. Be quiet so I can hear if there's any danger."
Again, the one named Brad spoke.
"Sorry, Dragomon. I didn't realize I was disturbing you."
Paul sat up. It was night, a clear, cloudless night, and instead of one moon up in the sky, there were three. That must be how things were in this world. He gasped. He was sitting on what seemed to be the back of a dragon. A huge, red and black dragon with golden eyes. There were three others beside him. One boy, one girl, and a small, vibrantly colored peacock. Paul assumed this to be a Digimon like Calumon. All stared at him.
"Where's Calumon?" Paul was suddenly defensive. "What have you done with him?"
The one named Brad stared at Paul with an expression of complete bewilderment on his face.
"Oh, you mean that Digimon you were with? Yeah, we got him, too. He was a little bit injured, so I had Dragomon hold him in his pouch."
"Dragomon?"
"Oh, my Digimon. He's flying us over the Forest as we speak. My name's Brad, by the way, if you didn't know."
"Is that where we were, the Forest?"
He'd forgotten up till now that he'd been in the Forest; it had all happened so fast.
"Yeah. She told us that we would meet someone else like ourselves here, at the Forest Terminal, so we decided to come and check it out."
"She told you?"
Brad stopped talking. He seemed to think he'd said enough. The girl, however, turned to Paul, and spoke to him.
"My name is Rachel," she said, swiveling her head around to Brad, and frowning, "And this is my Digimon, Werkamon. She's really cool."
The familiar sound of T-tectors whirring with data rang through the air. The two others picked up T-tectors of their own and watched as light poured out of them.
Werkamon- Powerful rookie Digimon. Flying type. Not strong enough yet to carry much, but could be a good messenger bird to call for help. This Digimon is rare, and is not often found in very many places throughout the Digital World. It is only loyal to those it serves, and its Razor Feather Wing is proof enough of that to its enemies!
Another whir of information on the T-tectors.
Dragomon- Dragon Digimon. One of the most powerful of the rookie level. It rarely shows affection to just anyone, except its master, unless they know it really well. Its Inferno Flare attack can really heat things up!
Paul stared at the two of them for a moment. The whirring had come from their Digivices! (He recalled, with some amount of anger and frustration that Giga-Piedmon had taken his.) They had Digivices, the same shape, size, knobs on his T-tector, and everything as his own. The only difference Paul could see was the fact that his had been red, and Brad's was yellow, and Rachel's was a bright pink. The light from their Digivices faded, and they tucked their T-tectors back into their pockets.
"You've got them too?"
Brad and Rachel nodded fervently.
"We got our Digimon and our T-tectors when we arrived," said Brad, pensively. "Come to think of it, I don't know how long ago that was. It must have been months by now."
Brad seemed to have been struck by a sudden thought.
"Here," he said, and he reached behind him, in a little skin pocket behind the dragon's left ear, and pulled something out, handing it to Paul graciously.
"It's what I found of your luggage. We had to split mighty fast to get out of there, so I didn't manage to get it all, but I got your clothes, T-tector, egg, you know, the important stuff."
Paul stared at his newly reacquired belongings. He had half a mind to thank Brad, but at the same time, for some reason, he didn't trust him.
"Brad, I don't mind carrying you guys around, or your foolish friends, but if you continue to talk, I am afraid I will have to toss you off my back."
The voice came from the dragon's head. Paul called out to it.
"Do you have Calumon?"
"Yes. He's fine, like Brad said, but be quiet now, there's danger afoot."
And almost immediately after he'd said that, the wind picked up, and Paul fell off the dragon.
Chapter Six
The Hatching
Paul fell through the air like a dead weight, never stopping. His back was to the ground. Should he hit the ground, the fall would break his back, and he would be dead. He was going to die here, without anyone but Brad and Rachel there to see him off into the next world. His mother would never know he died here.
Show me all of your secrets. Display them outwardly!
Who was speaking? Paul didn't have the faintest clue. All he knew was that he was falling.
And yet he wasn't falling, there was light all around him. The Digivice was encasing him in a sphere of light.
He stopped falling. But he didn't understand it, what was happening. The Digivice was warm in his hand.
Paul was bathed in the light. He only then realized that he was naked, though, somehow, he felt unperturbed by it. There was no one to sneer at him, no one to point or make fun of his nudity. He was simply alone.
And yet at the same time, he wasn't.
"Where am I?"
His own voice, from within him; strangely magnified, yet soothing, melodic. Then an answer.
Within me.
"Why did you want me here?"
All things have spirits, Paul. I am particularly interested in yours. Yours is a troubled yet calm one; I feel a strange sensation whenever I am near it. Why are you troubled?
"Father."
Yes, I see some anxiety within your spirit. About your father. He is. gone then?
"Yes. He is in the Saturn Star."
More familiarity. Paul remembered a strange computer laboratory, and a crying mother. His goal: The Saturn Star.
He knew from all his memories where he should go.
The Saturn Star is the one place where you can find him. Well, I can't say I know where it is. You will find it though, with the help or your Digimon.
Taichimon. That was his Digimon. The note on his computer said so.
"Who are you?"
But there was no answer, and Paul awoke amidst confusion. He had no idea where he was, nor what he was doing. All he knew was that he was now back on a dragon.
A familiar voice spoke.
"You alright?"
Brad.
"You went all glazed. It was like you weren't with us anymore."
Rachel.
"Yeah, like you were in another world or something."
Paul stared at Rachel and Brad. So he had never even fallen off Dragomon. Had it all been a dream? A vision? \ It had seemed so real somehow.
"What's up?" Rachel asked.
"What? Oh. nothing."
Rachel and Brad exchanged looks of concern.