Chapter Three: A World Within

The blackness and the hazy clouds that glided about lazily, like the swirls and blobs of light within a lava lamp, must belong to that of another dimension, with no concept of space or time. There they hovered, mere wisps of mist and clear bubbles that held various spirits, resting within the tiny orbs. The bubbles did not exist in space, no, but the Pokemon curled up inside them could not pass through the transparent walls; they hardened upon the touch of a Pokemon. The Pokemon drifted up and down in a constant, steady path, one enclosed in each bubble, as if the bubbles were pulled by invisible ropes sliding along an ethereal set of pulleys. And always all around them lay the endless expanse of darkness present all around them, like a starless, breathless night sky that did nothing, meant nothing, but simply was.

It was in this realm that Charmander awoke, blinking his bright eyes and rubbing his head groggily. "Wha…?" he muttered as he stretched his arms and yawned, his limbs infused with the relaxing energy of a good long sleep. He lowered his head, trying to remember what had happened. Pieces of memory spun out of the darkness at him: an Ekans…a pretty melody…

He flinched as his hand brushed a wall, stopping mid-stretch against the hard surface. Where am I? he wondered suddenly, and raised his head.

Charmander gasped at the glorious sight before him. It was like nothing he had ever seen. He was resting in some kind of a glass bubble—but no, it wasn't glass—it was something completely different. The light of his tail-flame glowed and danced upon the clear, reflective surface. It glimmered and was soft underneath him when he curled up inside it, cradling his body seemingly without walls, and yet it changed when he pressed upon it. When he willingly pushed it with his hands and tried to pass through, the strange material soldified into a firm barrier, holding him back. He could not leave.

But beyond the "glass" he could see—a magnificent, infinite scape, like a night sky all around him, complete with shifting, shimmering curls of mist. Mysterious, tinkling notes chimed in the distance, or perhaps he imagined them. But somehow, it didn't have the same quality as a night sky. Charmander couldn't put his finger on what it was that was so different from the world he had known all his life. And then he realized—night suggested time, the passage between days, and though Charmander couldn't describe it, this place somehow had no sense of time or even place. It hung still, a separate universe, and yet there was motion within it.

For the most marvelous sight to him was the sight of the other bubbles that floated by him, suspended in space. Leisurely drifting up and down, held by nothing but air, the bubbles passed each other, close enough that Charmander could lean forward, face against the rounded wall, and peer inside them. As he squinted and tried to make out the small figures huddled within the diaphanous orbs, it dawned upon him with a tiny flutter of joy that they were other Pokemon just like him.

He spotted a Chikorita, lying flat on its stomach, its leaf draped over its shoulder. In another bubble, a Pichu twirled around and around, seemingly oblivious to everything around it. He saw an Ekans in a third one, its head hung as its coiled body was wracked with uneven gasps, and suddenly remembered the battle, remembered launching the flamethrower and defeating the snake. I beat that thing, he realized. It must be recovering now. He felt a pang of sympathy as he watched it struggle.

In the last bubble was a Jigglypuff, bouncing up and down impatiently with a small baton-like object clutched in its hand. The sight of the little pink Pokemon jogged Charmander's memory…he had seen it just before he heard the song, and the song seemed to be what had led him here. But how? And why? Suddenly, he was bursting with questions. How had he come here? What were the other Pokemon doing here? And what was that voice he had heard prior to falling asleep?

"Hello?" he called out tentatively, trying to reach the other Pokemon. "Can you hear me? I'm—I'm Charmander…can you guys help me?"

No response. The Pokemon's heads were turned away as the spheres continued to drift lazily before his eyes.

"Hello?" Charmander tried again, louder. "Please…can anyone help me?" A hint of desperation crept into his voice. "I don't know what's going on…please…"

None of the Pokemon answered. They seemed not to hear him, each lost in its own world.

Charmander hung his head and whimpered softly. There was no one there for him, even when they were so close in sight. He had never been so alone in his life, he was sure…even since the very beginning. He faintly remembered his family…his proud Charizard parents…the constant spouts of flame bursting around him as he and his loud, rambunctious siblings learned to control their fire…their family's joy at his youngest brother's hatching…his parents' pride as his sister evolved into a Charmeleon, the very first of the batch…

He remembered the day he had left the safety of his childhood home, that cozy cave in the hot interior of the mountains. He had bid a heartfelt goodbye to his parents, promising to visit all of them often, and left with his Charmander siblings. Once the young Charmanders and the young Charmeleon came of age, they all left the hot, rocky confines of the den to face the world on their own. The Charmeleon left to make her own life, while the Charmanders, as was their nature, stayed together.

Until that day…while they were on the hunt after a wild mouse, Charmander had wandered off…and become separated from his siblings. Terrified out of his wits, realizing he was lost, Charmander had been alone then. But his solitude was not meant to last. Shortly after he left the craggy mountains in search of his brothers and sisters and meandered into the sunny depths of the forest, he had met Squirtle. His jumpiness, his fear had led him to the feisty blue Pokemon. His best friend. Yes, Charmander mused, he had always had Squirtle. They had always roamed the forest together…

And now, now, where was he? None of the other Pokemon seemed to want to explain. If only Squirtle were here with him; Squirtle could deal with this, he could put a spin of humor on the situation. But Charmander was alone. All alone. The confusion built inside him, and he felt trapped, suffocated. The walls pressed in on him and claustrophobia overwhelmed his body, his breath quickening as his hands began to tremble. The fire within him slowly crescendoed as he glanced around wildly for an exit, any kind of escape. He had to get out! What was he doing here in this strange world? Where was his comforting home in the forest? And Squirtle?

He was meant to be free! Free! Fear and anger churned inside his stomach and erupted in a great boil of fury. Charmander reared his head back as the burning sensation within him rose to a terrifying peak and unleashed itself in a colossal blaze. As the glow of the flame simmered and disappeared, he saw with dismay that the bubble was serenely intact and unchanged, its shimmering surface mocking his pitiful attempt.

Rage flared up within him, hotter than ever before. LEMME OUT OF HERE! he roared. He bashed his head against the wall and whipped it with his tail, the flame on its tip mounting to an inferno as it slammed again and again against the bubble. He beat his arms against the wall, his hands clenched into fists, then uncurled them and swiped at it with his claws. Finally, panting heavily, he stepped back and hurled another, final, flamethrower at the wall.

Out of energy, he sank down and gasped for breath. He felt as if nothing but a few sparks and a curl of smoke were left smoldering at the bottom of his stomach like a pile of scorched coal. Charmander raised his head slowly, and as he did so, he became aware that the eyes of the other Pokemon were now watching him intently.

"It's no use, you know," declared the Chikorita, sweeping her leaf aside. Charmander's eyes flickered upward at the sound of her voice. The little leaf Pokemon lifted her chin off the ground and fixed her crimson eyes on him.

The back of his neck twinged, as suddenly, Charmander sensed a movement around him that hadn't been there before. He turned to look outside the window. The other bubbles seemed to be breaking their peaceful, steady formation of parallel vertical lines, as if pushed sporadically to the sides, jostling in random paths and slowly converging toward him. The Pokemon inside, he noticed, seemed to be bumping against their walls, propelling the balls forward as they spun and wobbled closer to him.

They can hear me now, he realized.

He heard a gasp. "It's a Charmander!" he swore he heard someone whisper.

A Charmander Charmander Charmander… it seemed to echo.

"Yessssss, we all tried," hissed the Ekans in a hoarse, raspy voice. "You gave me quite a burn there, little Charmander."

"Oh…I'm…awfully sorry about that," Charmander murmured, still recovering from his surprise. His confusion temporarily squelched the memory of why he had attacked the Ekans. "Sorry, Ekans."

The Ekans bowed his head, and an amused smile played across his mouth. "It is no matter. Your attack was quite impressive. I am humbled."

Charmander smiled weakly and nodded in acknowledgement. He couldn't remember, couldn't think straight; he felt timid, nervous, scared. He wasn't sure what to say, now that he had the others' attention.

"Thanks…" he mustered, inclining his head to the Ekans, "but…but…what do you mean you tried?" Charmander faced each of the Pokemon in turn. "I don't understand. Where is this? What are all of you doing here? What am I doing here?"

The Pichu and the Chikorita exchanged a glance full of understanding. "He doesn't understand," the Chikorita sighed.

"Nope, he doesn't!" Pichu squeaked.

"Yeah, I don't!" Charmander snapped, his tail flaring in annoyance. "That's the whole point, isn't it?"

"Charmander…" Ekans stared at him with menacing yellow eyes. Charmander willed himself not to look away, to take deep breaths and stare back, holding the snake Pokemon's gaze. Seconds trickled by, and Charmander felt himself begin to relax. For as he peered into the black slits that were Ekans's pupils, he caught a glimmer of kindness, and beyond it, a haunting feeling that seemed to reach back into the very deepest confines of Ekans's mind, so deep that it must serve as the basis for all of his other emotions. It sent a chill down Charmander's spine, and he blinked, breaking the spell.

"Do you know why I attacked your friend?" Ekans asked.

"N-no, I don't!" Charmander stammered angrily, remembering. He clenched his fists. "You shouldn't have! Squirtle wasn't bothering you! That's why I attacked!"

Ekans shook his head sadly. "No…he wasn't. He wasn't at all."

"Then why—"

"You see, we aren't free, Charmander," a new voice chimed in. A sweet, lilting voice, one that would have bounced like the rubbery pink body that spoke it, had it not been so grave. The Jigglypuff tumbled and floated its way over to Charmander's bubble, juggling the microphone in its hands. "Not like you've been all your life."

"Not free?" Charmander echoed. It was starting to dawn on him, like something in the distance drawing closer and closer into his field of view. He could almost taste it, the answer to his questions. "So I've been captured…" And with a great jolt, he suddenly remembered—the voice, the command it issued, and he knew. His voice dropped to an awed whisper as the suspicion came to light. "…by a human?"

Chikorita nodded, satisfied, pursing her small mouth. "Yes, that's exactly it."

Charmander's jaw dropped; he gaped from one face to the next, his eyes widening. In all his time in the forest, he had always wondered what happened to those Pokemon who fell under the care of human trainers. All he knew was that they were cared for, taught the intelligence of humankind, trained to be stronger… But he never knew what really happened to them, how they were obtained, how the humans kept them. He heard it was a good life, perhaps even better than living in the wild, though some, like Squirtle, had their suspicions. But almost everything he had heard had been positive—for humans gave Pokemon a gift, the gift of intelligence and strength, taking them as they were and treating them like equals, teaching them so they could be better. A burst of excitement flickered in his heart; now he was one of them! He would rise up to the challenge, would have the experience and learn all about what it was like! He was about to open his mouth and yelp with excitement, his hand readied into a fist to punch the air in joy.

But as he surveyed the circle of Pokemon surrounding him, something struck him as off. Something didn't match up with what he had heard. These four Pokemon—the Ekans, the Chikorita, the Pichu, and the Jigglypuff—did not seem like "most Pokemon." He tried to place it, to pin it down, the foggy feeling that deftly evaded his notice, like a mist creeping in on him that brought on an uneasy, damp sensation. Charmander despised dampness, all that was wet and cold. Faced with the cold, his flame would struggle to burn all the harder, sapping his life energy, his heat…

And then it struck him—the look that had gleamed in Ekans's eyes—the look that hung upon the faces of all the Pokemon before him—these Pokemon were drained, drained of their life force. They were exhausted and bound to a life they did not want, a life against their will. He noticed now that their faces were gaunt, drawn, worn beyond the normal conditions of their species. Jigglypuff had lost much of her puff; her pink skin was far paler and more sallow than most of her kind, and it had lost some of its rubbery sheen, stretching loosely around her perfectly spherical body. Chikorita's leaf was tinted yellow and brown, its very edges split and wilted like the petals of a dry plant. Ekans was missing several scales, chipped and broken down, and the skin on his face was ridden with wrinkles. Even tiny Pichu's fur, young as she was, was matted in wispy, shriveled tufts, discolored from its regular bright yellow to a shade vaguely resembling the color of mustard.

"Is…is there something wrong?" Charmander managed to question as he stared into their tired faces, a tendril of smoke trailing from his tail. It wafted upward and dangled in the air like a faded question mark.

The four Pokemon exchanged a heavy, meaningful look, and together, they began to speak.