'This is the place. I couldn't be there the first time. I saw the whole thing remotely, but here it is.' And even four decades later, he could still feel the presence of something foreboding and not entirely of this world. This was the one day out of the entire calendar year where the barrier became soft enough that a clever enough person could access it.
In the past, all Saturn did was re-watch the old data feed for Spear Pillar. He'd replay Cyrus's final moments; watch the legendary guardians of Time, Space, and Antimatter; and try to figure out how exactly his leader died.
Sometimes he speculated that Mars or Jupiter could have pushed Cyrus out of the way and taken his place. Other times, his brain played cruel tricks with him, saying that the miscalculation was his fault. Or Charon's.
For the longest time, his running theory was that Charon intentionally screwed up the data so he could take control of Team Galactic.
Saturn hadn't only promised clean energy. He delivered it, along with far more. The public had been so excited by all the company's innovations that the world believed him when he said Team Galactic was a reformed, legitimate business. Their books were clean. Their employees were fine, upstanding citizens. They donated company hours to give back to the region.
The world trusted him so much that nobody thought anything of it when a Galactic Grunt or two were spotted near the lakes…or when certain treasures vanished from museums.
He only wanted Dialga. Considering how badly he screwed over this world, the last thing Saturn wanted was the responsibility of creating a brand new one. These last few subordinates weren't Commanders: just a motley crew of loyal underlings whose names he'd never even bothered to learn.
When the portal appeared, he approached it in complete abandon. 'This is it,' he told himself as he entered. 'Either I'll come back…or I won't.'
…
The Distortion World resembled an M.C. Escher painting, only painted in vibrant shades of magenta, cyan, and violet. Islands floated in nothingness. To his left, right, above, and below: there was no real concept of up or down. And if Saturn fell, would he ever land? Or would he simply continue to fall indefinitely?
Gravity felt lighter. The air felt thinner. He'd had asthma problems as a boy and seemingly outgrew it, only for it to come back in his fifties. The atmosphere in here required deeper, slower breathing. If he ran too far or overexerted himself, that would be it. He'd suffocate.
A large, dark Pokémon floated in the background, sauntering about like a dragon float in a parade. 'That's the same one I saw,' he realized. 'The one who took Cyrus away…'
He'd ceased to be Master Cyrus ages ago. For the longest time, Saturn mentally forced himself to keep calling him that, but eventually stopped. There was nothing quite like controlling an old associate's corporation for forty years to leave a man disillusioned.
'I was so naïve when I first met you. One of the men who did cover art for my mother's novels was part of an art exhibit, so I wanted to support him. It was mostly Syd Mead's work. Blade Runner. Tron. Dune. I fell in love with a painting of a space colony, complete with lush green farms in all directions.'
His father had insisted that if people worked at their full capacity at all times, humanity would have everything these dream-like portraits promised. He even cited that many of Jules Verne's predictions about submarines and satellites became reality a couple of generations later.
Cyrus had been in attendance. He remarked that Ray Bradbury had told us there were telepathic men on Mars, and that H.G. Wells believed in time machines. Just because someone could dream it, that didn't necessarily make it possible.
Saturn supposed that had been true from the very start. Their goal had shifted from creating a better existing world to scrapping the whole thing entirely. Without spirit, there would be no dreams. Without dreams, there would be no aspiration. Without aspiration, there would be no disappointment. Without disappointment, there would be no conflict. And without conflict, there would be no pain.
"ARE YOU EVEN HERE?!" he yelled, falling to his knees. As soon as he did that, he realized just how much air it would take to restore his lungs to full capacity. His words resonated, causing the islands to shake and Giratina's scarlet eyes to glow at him from the distance.
He had wasted his entire life talking to the void. The void never talked back.
Until now.
"Why?"
Saturn's head turned so fast that he felt something spasm in his neck. There, sitting fewer than three meters away, was the same gaunt, pale man he'd built his entire life around. Cyrus was still 27. His hair wasn't any longer. His clothes were slightly torn, but not dirty. He didn't appear any thinner, sicker, or more exhausted than he'd appeared that day all those years ago. His jaw was still clean-shaven without so much as a single piece of stubble.
Time hadn't affected him. This wasn't Dialga's realm at all.
"Why, Saturn?"
Saturn had so many things he wished to say, but none of them came out. When he tried to speak, it felt like his words cemented together into a thick, heavy stone of unwanted air. He couldn't move his tongue. Only shaky breath came out. He'd lived almost two lifetimes' worth of duty without this man, gone through so many hardships alone, and Cyrus still recognized him?
'I suppose he would. Aside from Charon, I was his only male Commander.' And Saturn had taken the utmost care of his body. As old as he was, he was still the same small, slender fellow he'd always been.
"Please tell me this isn't a rescue attempt. I told you not to look for me."
Saturn wasn't sure what to feel in that moment. "Every year…I tried to contact you…" And not very far away, Saturn could see Cyrus's radio. It was shut off, but otherwise in working condition. "Did you…even…"
'He doesn't care,' he realized. His heart sank. 'When he left us all behind, he ceased to care.'
"We failed," Saturn choked. "Badly."
He expected to see rage on that face, or even an echo of disappointment. Sometimes echoes of emotion leaked out of Cyrus and scared everyone in the room. Not this time.
All Cyrus did was lean back, letting his shoulders and the back of his head touch the dead earth. "There was never any other outcome for that world, Saturn. It was destined to fail."