POV: Cynthia / LOCATION: Veilstone Neo Galactic HQ
"Cynthia! I was expecting you," says Charon.
Expecting me he was indeed. Feet propped on the computer, fingers idly spinning a nondescript ballpoint pen. He must have been watching me on his surveillance system.
"I don't recall being on friendly terms," I say.
"Anyone who exposed that lunatic's scheme is a friend of mine. You and your friends make yourselves comfortable."
Flint and Volkner claim their territory on the couch. Lucian remains standing, arms crossed with a frown etched on his face.
"Detective Looker filled me in," Charon says. "So time has stopped in Treeshroud Forest?"
"Time did not stop," Volkner says.
"And why are you so sure, young man?"
If Volkner is bothered by the slight sneer of Charon's voice, he does not show it.
"Our reality is not parsed into segments. Everything-what is considered the past, present, and future—exists everywhere all at once. If time is change, then change is an illusion because nothing is changing. Anyone who believes in physics know that fundamental truth.
"What we witnessed in Treeshroud Forest was a consequence of the misalignment of the earth's magnetic poles. Gravity was altered. There was no magic involved."
Out of everyone in the room, only Charon expresses some degree of amusement.
"We have an ardent scholar of the theory of special relativity. I expect no less from the strongest Gym Leader in our region. Why, you did single-handedly rescue Sunyshore from its economic slump with the construction of those solar walkways!"
Hearing praise for his taciturn best friend, Flint immediately warms up to the sleazy old man. After all, very few speak good things of Volkner without adding some backhanded compliment.
"Volks was also the brains of the Vista Lighthouse's grand re-opening!"
"Yes yes. Just be careful you young people don't get over your heads."
Instead of opening up the warm reception, Volkner sighs as if he had received another impromptu visit from the mayor concerning his wasteful electricity usage.
"We didn't come here to talk about me," he says.
"We didn't have to come here at all," Lucian says under his breath.
"We didn't ask for you to come along," I mumble.
"By 'we' she doesn't mean 'us,'" Flint adds, already sensing an impending argument.
Charon pats the little bell on his desk until he has our attention.
"Children, let us discuss business now. Going back to the original question: what happened in Treeshroud Forest? The answer hearkens back to what was recovered in Galactic's laboratory: the Time Gear."
There it is again. Just the name sends shivers down the stalk of my brain.
Charon begins, "Allow me to enlighten you with a story. Long ago, when the universe was created, time and space were born. The Temporal Pokemon, Dialga, was tasked with the safeguarding the flow of time.
"To prevent itself from being corrupted by its immense strength, Dialga divided its power into five objects known as the Time Gears and scattered them throughout the world. Each one protects and keeps time flowing properly in each region."
Pausing dramatically, Charon rises from his chair and holds his pen against the dying sunlight. His gaze is of one marveling at an invaluable diamond.
"If a region loses its Time Gear, then the flow of time will stop there. That's what we witnessed in Mystifying Forest, until you, my dear Cynthia, returned what was stolen."
The rational side of me is tempted to shut this conversation off as a load of chicken shit, but the historian in me knows that even the most imaginative myth stemmed from a seed of truth… like how the most beautiful tapestry of lies can be unraveled by a single thread.
"Treeshroud Forest's Time Gear was untouched," I note.
Charon chuckles as if he has been waiting for me to make that connection. "According to the butterfly effect, small actions carry disastrous ripples in the timeline. When that criminal stole the first Time Gear, he broke the balance of the universe. Time Gear or not, the paralysis will spread until the world falls into darkness."
Having had enough of magical riddles, Volkner walks out of the office, followed by an apologetic Flint. Lucian shoots me a look obscured in meaning before he leaves.
"Give it some time to sink in," Charon says. "But rest assured, Cynthia, that you'll receive my full cooperation. After all, adults like me have the responsibility to clean up after misbehaving brats."
With a little sigh, Charon herds me to the door. Before I turn the corner, I catch a glimpse of him pressing that pen—the one he kept playing with the whole time—to his ear and grinning. As if that seemingly insignificant object holds the key to changing his destiny.