Tobame's Struggle – Chapter Two
The walk back to the low-income zone of Saffron had never felt so long for Tobame. Usually, after the demanding day at work, he would just zone out, practically sleepwalking, as he walked the few kilometres to his house. Saffron had expanded much since Silph Co's founding – and the city shape now resembled some distorted circle. The middle-class families would stay on the outskirts of the city, being able to afford transportation methods like bicycles (now improved with anti-bump mechanics) and private carriages. Alternatively, they could just fly to work on Pokemon like Pidgeot or Fearow. For obvious reasons, trampling the city foundations on something like a Tentacruel or Rhydon was prohibited.
The rich, on the other hand, lived right next to the city centre, where rent rates (and property prices) were sky-high. The condominiums and landed property sprouting up next to the business district, where Silph Co, Apricot Inc. and other big companies had their headquarters, seemed to grow more luxurious by the day. Of course, their facilities still could not be compared to the Gym headquarters, where the Gym leaders resided during their private time, as well as Indigo Plateau itself, where the Champion used to live before his retirement. These places were symbols of the old regime and Constitution, and clearly the Champion's decision to spread the wealth did not extend to him as well as his Gym Leaders that made up his parliament. Obviously, Tobame knew that destroying the entire foundation of Indigo Plateau as well as the relevant Gyms just to show that the leaders of Kanto were dedicated to sharing the wealth was a ridiculous venture. For one, it would simply cost the country much more wealth that could be spent improving the country. Also, no one would begrudge the leaders of the country enjoying a little more luxury than the common people – as long as the citizens could see that improvements were being made.
So, that just left the area in between the rich residences and the government-built apartments of the middle-class – which was naturally where Tobame stayed. He had been looking forward to a change of scenery for a few decades now, but as the years went by, he had resigned himself to his fate. Now, his fate looked to be even bleaker. The high-tech metal rivets and aesthetically pleasing brick of the expensive constructions slowly failed, as Tobame walked past the skyscrapers that made up the business and shopping districts. In their place was mud and scrap wood. Tobame's house was a typical slum – but at least there were proper sanitation facilities. The government had thankfully installed the necessary equipment over the course of two years, in a bid to improve the appalling hygiene conditions in the slums. Tobame had to admit that the attempt was more or less successful. Life expectancy among the lower-income group had increased from sixty-two to seventy after the improvement.
Still, that didn't prevent Tobame from banging his fist on his dining table after he had entered - repeatedly. He pounded the table like a demented being, then flung his briefcase as well as his cardboard box of belongings across the room. Only after he saw the floor littered with the broken glass that had once made up his mug did he calm himself down, sweeping up the mess. Flushing the glass down the toilet, Tobame buried his head in his hands, trying to escape from the harshness and futility of the situation. But what could he do to change things? He was, after all, merely an uneducated worker with no prior experience in anything to do with Pokemon. His only strength lay in the area of organisation – his house was spotless and tidy – but if Silph had managed to get their hands on those cool machines that rendered his job obsolete, it would only be a matter of time before other companies did the same. Dead loss.
There had to be something in him that made him unique. If he didn't have the skills to shine, what about information? Anything he could use to get a job, or at least some money. Tobame called on the intellect he had to come up with a plan. He might not have had much schooling, but Tobame had always considered himself naturally gifted. And so it wasn't very long before he had come up with a decent idea – involving the information he had gotten from typing out the minutes. Of course, the entire scheme was illegal – he was obviously not supposed to reveal company secrets to outsiders, especially when the outsider in question was a major rival as well as the subject of a takeover bid. But Tobame was far past caring about such matters. His life was gone anyway, and in three months, he would be reduced to begging on the streets. Going to jail might not be so bad after all.
And so it was in this vein of thought that Tobame resolved to go to Apricot. Inc the next day to share his information about the plans of Silph Corporation. After all, what Silph was planning could not be considered very noble, even if its planned course of action was theoretically legal and legitimate. Tobame was confident that his insider information would be valuable in the eyes of Apricot, and he could then demand either a hefty one-off payment, or a stable job with significantly higher pay than what he was earning at Silph. Either way, he could then use the money to improve his qualifications – and the future would be bright. It was perhaps a simplistic and overly optimistic way of looking at things, but Tobame could hardly be blamed for this line of thinking. After all, the day's events had caused him to be rather disillusioned with life.
As Tobame pulled the tattered blankets over his body, he allowed himself one final curse at his predicament. But then his mind drifted off into sleep, and his mouth managed to curve upwards in a smile. There would be a way to salvage the situation – he would make sure of it – he would be successful, successful…
The alarm clock rang, signalling the transition to day. Usually, this would be when Tobame would be forced to wake up and get ready to work – eating a rushed breakfast consisting of a slice of bread, no more, then washing hurriedly under the relatively new shower. After that was done, he would change into his formal clothes – that had cost him three months' worth of savings – and rush off to work. Being late was not an option at Silph – if you were more than ten minutes' late, you were counted as being absent for the entire day. If you had a day of paid leave, then one day would be deducted. Someone in Tobame's position would have been entitled to one day of paid leave a month – a mere pittance, considering that he would have to work on Saturdays as well. Tobame usually didn't even take this day of leave, as he was forced to work overtime to earn enough. Hearing the annoying sound of the alarm, Tobame almost jumped out of bed and started preparing his breakfast, but he then remembered that he was free from the hellish routine that had characterised his life. He had to go for a little visit to Apricot today, but there was surely no hurry – the really big fish in the company were always arriving late anyway. Tobame slammed the alarm clock and turned it off. He could sleep in on a weekday for the first time in fifteen years – and he intended to enjoy it.
Two hours later, Tobame was finally up and ready to go. He had decided on buttering his bread today – a luxury previously restricted to Sundays – and had amazingly put on some hair gel, which he had given up years ago because of how much time it wasted – as well as its pointlessness. Who was he trying to impress, anyway? At work, it was the academic qualifications of the workers that were king, not some funky hairdo. As for the ladies… it was essentially the same thing. No one would ever go for him regardless of how good-looking he was – unless there was some enlightened soul out there that actually took into account effort. Otherwise, the qualifications and the wealth of the other young men were seen before they came into view. What was the point of even trying, when the extent of his attempts to look good came in the form of cheap hair gel?
But the hair gel was on today, and Tobame's hair now at least had some pattern and style to it, rather than having it flat down like some sort of nerd. Checking his briefcase for another time, Tobame confirmed that the latest copies of Silph's meeting transcripts were there, intact and in order. There were some revelations there that would make the board of Apricot very interested. Tobame had a plan, of sorts – reveal some teaser statements with the appropriate backing, get the board and the big shots interested, then make his financial demands. Simple enough – after all, if Apricot really decided to ignore him, they would cease to exist in a short amount of time. And so it was in good spirits that Tobame left his house in his standard outfit – he really didn't have the money to go for variety. A standard light blue collared shirt, paired with a red striped tie and black trousers. Thankfully, Silph had never needed him to wear a jacket – a good, lasting one would have probably cost nearly a month's salary.
Apricot was located a bit down the road from Silph. The building was neither as tall nor as majestic as Silph, but that was to be expected, considering the sizes of the two companies. There were only three wings – compared to Silph's five – and Tobame counted only twenty stories as he approached, unlike Silph's wings, which ranged from twenty-five to forty stories. Still, Tobame reminded himself that no matter how grand Silph looked, it didn't matter to him when one storey of one wing probably cost more than what he had earned from them in fifteen years. Apricot could probably at least pay him handsomely. The sense of confidence that had filled Tobame still had not dissipated, and he found himself almost skipping to a happy tune as he walked the final kilometre to the building. As he passed Silph, Tobame glared at the place that had stolen away the prime years of life, and rendered him a bent and beaten man after only thirty years. He would have his revenge on the company – for starters. Later he could think about the Champion.
He was there. Apricot Inc. loomed up in front of him, and Tobame steeled himself mentally for the speech he would have to give to make the people listen to him. He approached the sliding double doors, and felt the chill breeze of the air-conditioning as the glass parted to make way for him. The concrete of the pavement changed to carpet, as Tobame entered the lobby of the building. The receptionist's desk was in front of him, and several comfortable chairs were placed between the main door and the lifts to his right. Tobame took in the layout of the room briefly before making his way straight to the receptionist. Obviously, trying to go directly to the lifts would be a futile exercise – barring the magnetic lock at the switch, there was still the little matter of not knowing where the hell to go. However, even getting to the receptionist would be rather troublesome. The security guard, standing invisible behind a potted plant at the door, approached Tobame, intercepting his path halfway.
"Excuse me, sir, do you have an appointment?"
Crap. This is unexpected. Obviously, I can't make an official appointment over the phone regarding such a sensitive matter, so I had to come to the company directly to engineer a discreet meeting. Yet I can't just waltz into Apricot and demand to see the Chairman or CEO without having something to show. Neither is showing the documents to this security guard an option – he's a no-ranker who probably won't understand the significance. What to do…
"No, but I have something urgent to show whoever's in charge here." Honesty the best policy? It's worth a try, at least. Hopefully this stupid security man will understand the importance of the situation and let me through. Hopefully – oh wait, is he laughing at me?
"You have to be kidding, sir. Surely you do not expect me to just let in anyone carrying a briefcase, sporting some hairdo and claiming he wants to see the head of the company. You might easily be concealing an army of Electrodes inside that briefcase, for one thing. Barring that, do you really think Mrs. L has the time to see anyone who wants to see her? Get out, sir, and if you insist on barging your way through, I won't hesitate to call the full security and have you arrested."
Goddamn! This piece of crap isn't only a no-ranker; he's also the stupidest person I've ever met. If he wants to be out of a job (like me) because he insists on following the book, so be it. Oh wait, it's not just "so be it", I need to get through. He's talking again, for some reason.
"Still not moving? I'll really call security – wait, here's Mrs. L herself to take care of you. She's headed your way – you have ten seconds to get your attention or the hundred-strong security force in the main wing of Apricot will be taking you into custody. Or you can just get out – the door's behind you."
Tobame didn't even consider the latter option. Instead he pushed past the thirty-something security guard that didn't even have anything to stop him save a walkie-talkie. Making a beeline for Mrs. L, whatever her real name was, Tobame opened his briefcase at the same time, and had the first document – the teaser – in his hand by the time he saw the head of Apricot's face. She looked rather familiar; even though Tobame was sure they hadn't met before. Still, Tobame didn't really notice – he had more important things to worry about.
Opening his mouth to speak, Tobame was well aware that this could well be a defining moment in his career. He just had to hope that he didn't screw it up.