It is tempting to believe in the inexorable march of progress, to believe that the future will be in some way better or more advanced – whether socially or only technologically – than the past. Admittedly, between pokemon changing from tools for war into participants in a popular, global sport to the harnessing of electricity, there is much in human history to recommend such a worldview. Yet the finest biologists and programmers of our time – even geniuses such as Bill and his collaborators on the Porygon project – can still only marvel at the advanced automaton that is Magearna.
Magearna was created centuries ago, not with semiconductors and transistors, but with gears, steam power, and a mysterious jewel at its core. It was built as a companion for the king's beloved child, for she was an only daughter and her status as princess left no one she could simply play with as a friend. But the king died young, and the princess, distrusting all of the ever-quarreling regents, appointed Magearna to run her country.
Magearna was a kind ruler, too kind, perhaps, to be queen. The luxuries of the royal court – including the historic collection of master artisans that had created a variety of impressive automata, culminating in Magearna itself – were funded by heavy taxes on the peasantry, who toiled day and night with their pokemon, one bad harvest from starvation. Magearna dramatically shrunk royal expenses, and urged the nobles to do likewise – first by example, then, for a few recalcitrant ones, by force. And although Magearna and its trainer ruled for decades, and were remembered fondly by the people, its reign was also remembered as an age of technological decline. For the artisans dispersed to other nations which could afford to pay them, and their knowledge, built on teamwork, was lost forever.