My earliest memory (she began) is of hiding. Or rather, of being aware I was hiding, in plain sight. My mother's name was Joy... that's right... one of the cloned medics you see on the shows the Tourism Department releases. There were a lot of things I didn't know as a kid; things I only found out later. I might as well tell you up front the things I found out later; it makes a clearer story, that way.

I was the child of rape. Oh, you needen't be surprised. Aparently, it happens to the Joys fairly often. One of the older kids... and it isn't always a boy... will decide to find out how much joy they can get from Joy. Usually, it doesn't come to much... clones aren't much higher in our society than the monsters themselves are. The Joy gets a memory wipe, and a morning-after uterine flush, and maybe the kid gets caught by a Jenny and fined, and maybe not.

In the case of my mother, things were a little more serious. The kid who raped her was almost too old to stay at the Center... nearly thirteen. Which is something else that confuses people about our world. Our orbit's a little further from our star than the original Earth, Manhome. So one of our years is a little less than one and a half standard years.

Which explains how the poor little rich girl is so boobly.

Anyway, I was talking about my mother. This kid decides that he wants a lot of Joy, and gets his Haunter to put her to sleep. You know about Haunters? They're pretty damn spooky. They eat your thoughts; they can turn you into a drooling moron in moments, and then they can get inside your body and wear you like a suit. They sicken me.

So this kid had his Haunter send my mother to sleep, and then he slung her across the back of his Charizard, and they flew off to a pretty remote cave. Total bondage scene, as I understand it... chains, collars, the whole works. Aparently, the kid was a real nutcase... convinced that Joy would love him, if he just had enough time to explain things to her, and kept her real well abused.

My mother escaped. See, the Monsters... except for the ones that are Monsters in more than name... are pretty decent. Eventually, they got disturbed by this, and the Charizard brought a bunch of Jennies to the little cave.

The kid got exiled. I imagine another planet probably ended up mindwiping him or something. I dunno.

What I do know is that by the time the rescue happened, my mom was pretty obviously knocked up. When the Jennies set her free, they offered her a choice... to come with them, and get memorywiped and have an abortion, or to officially die in the cave, and try to make her own way.

My mother chose to die.

There's a criminal underclass, even on Earth. No, I'm not talking about Manhome; I've no reason to talk about that Earth. So when I say Earth, I'm talking about my home, about the Monster's World, okay?

So, there's a criminal underclass. Pretty much anything you want can be had, if you have something to trade for it.

My mom was a trained Monster medic. Ask yourself who'd have use for medical care for their Monsters, without it appearing in official records, and you'll have a pretty good idea who she ended up working for. They got her a new face, and she turned her hair white by burning the roots with liquid nitrogen. I can't even imagine how much that must've hurt.

She named me Judy, when I was born, and hid me in plain sight, in a town called Chartruse. I went to kindergarden with everyone else, got educated on the world, the galaxy, and of course... the Monsters.

Oh, I was smitten with the Monsters, of course. When you're a kid, you don't see any of the scary fucking Monsters. No one lets you know that a Muk smells worse than raw sewage; no one exposes you to a Gengar that can eat your brain. When you're a kid, you see Chancy and Jigglypuff; Eevee and Vulpix.

So I studied. I knew that many kids spent the years from nine to thirteen on journey, looking for new monsters, and seeking to be the toughest Monster trainer in their league.

And I expected my mom was going to be able to pay for it... for the balls I'd need, for the PokéCenter subscription, for wagers and league event entrance fees.

She probably would have, except for one thing. The Mob. Yes, there's a Mob. No, they don't call themselves anything as silly as Team Rocket. That's Tourist Board nonsense. In the show, Team Rocket provides conflict for the main characters, while not actually being particularly a threat, nor particularly effective.

In real life, the Mob is both more subtle and more frightening.

I was almost nine when the turf war broke out. I don't know the details... someone decided he wanted more power, or more money, or more something... and decided to take over Chartruse's boss' piece of the action.

They tell me that the children of rape are predisposed to feelings of rage. That we're more agressive, quicker to anger, quicker to get into trouble. Perhaps it's true. Perhaps it even explains some of what happened.

I remember the last happy day of my life. Sliph Co. had just released their PokéGear, and Mom and I spent the day looking at it. I needed an expert system tutor for my upcoming journey, and mom wanted to get me the older, notebook style, version.

I, of course, wanted the cool PokéGear.

The store was Rocky's PokéMart. I remember it clearly, the early spring sun streaming in through the windows, the shelves of toys for kids, and those of gear for serious trainers.

"I don't know, honey," Mom was saying, looking at the PokéGear. "It's so expensive. And it's not like this is the only purchase we'll need to make... you'll need PokéBalls, and potions, and the Center subscription isn't inexpensive."

I pouted. If it seems immature, allow me to remind you that I wasn't yet nine years old. "But mom," I whined, "look, this one has a cell phone! And a GPS unit! You'd be able to see where I was all the time!"

"There are phones in the Centers," my mother pointed out, reasonably. "And I don't want you sleeping rough, anyway. You should be able to make it from one center to another, even with some battles along the way."

"Yeah, that's another reason I should get this one," I said, still trying to sell her on the PokéGear. "Look, you can get a card with Roamer's Guide, with the places trainers hang out near each town! How will I find the places to go for battles, if I don't have that?"

My mother examined the card, dubiously. "The printed copy's less expensive," she pointed out.

"Oh, Mom! Print is so last century!"

She sighed. "All right," she said, throwing up her hands. "You win. It'll mean you won't have as many PokéBalls to start with, though."

"That's okay... I'll make it up in wagers. I'm sure I'll start winning right off!"

Mom shook her head and sighed. Looking back on it, I sigh with her. I wonder how many kids start out thinking they're going to be the undefeated champ of the League?

We bundled up my purchases, and started for home. I couldn't wait; I went ahead and put the PokéGear on.