For the second time, Noibat awoke on the ground in an unfamiliar place. Or rather, the only familiar place.
He had been unconscious for an hour or two, long enough for the afternoon sun to force him out of the shade. Unfortunately, the wind had led him to the side of the plateau which bore the brunt of the sunshine, presumably the west side. It was sweltering compared to the caprock.
Although fainting wasn't refreshing, Noibat was wide awake.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck. This isn't a dream, I'm still here! I'm actually a Noibat!
He slumped backward, squashing his ears against the outcrop.
I jumped off a cliff because I thought I was dreaming. I'm a moron.
It was hard to see under the dark fur, but his injured leg was livid with bruises. Miraculously, it wasn't broken. Noibat would have guessed that this body had fragile, hollow bones. Apparently not. Even the scratches from tumbling down the slope were superficial. It still hurt, though. Noibat wanted to slink back into the shadows and sleep his troubles away.
But I can't do that. Somehow, this is real life.
Waking up to this same desert was the final nail in the coffin. Whether you're a butterfly dreaming of being a human or a human dreaming of being a Noibat, reality is, in practice, the stuff you wake up to. It's the chipping paint on your bedroom ceiling—is that water damage? It's the things that persist no matter how much you really, really wished they wouldn't.
I've got no home, no name. 'Noibat the Noibat.' God, why did I think that sounded all right?! That isn't who I am. I might as well call myself 'Hugh the Human.'
There were so many unanswerable questions swirling through his head. Where had his memories gone? Did becoming a Pokémon wipe your mind? Was he already on top of the plateau when he transformed, or had he been transported there? What kind of strange place was this desert, anyways? Was he even on Earth? He had only his amnesiac brain and bare rocks to study.
OK.
He let out a squeaky sigh.
OK. Let's focus on what I do know: I need to get out of this desert! I don't know what kind of help I need to un-turn into a Pokémon, but I won't find it here.
He had landed in the band of scree between the plateau and the shrublands. Beyond the broad desert were other plateaus nearly identical to this one. Wandering into the open would be pointless; climbing back to the caprock would be impossible as well. The wind was sluggish this low to the ground. It ebbed, and the temperature crept incrementally higher.
Actually, getting out of the sun and resting sounds like a more realistic first step.
The only path forward was to go around the plateau. Thanks to whatever healing factor Pokémon possessed, he felt well enough to crawl along the flat ground bordering the scree. The opposite, shaded side of the plateau would be cooler. There might even be some helpful destination—a road, an oasis, a town—concealed behind the plateau.
He made his way towards the edge of the scree, resigned to this plan. Assuming the plateau was round-ish and he'd appeared in its center, reaching the east side would take about three hours.
Crawling cross-country in the body of a Pokémon, attempt two. I can do this! Especially if I don't leap from the first cliff I find.
Away he went, limping around the massive plateau. The plateau was striped in shades from light brown to buff, a stack of clay slabs abandoned by a titanic sculptor, flaking in the dry heat. Walking next to such a large structure made his progress feel even slower. Everything was silent except for the breeze rolling along the escarpment and the occasional thunder.
The character of the plateau began to change as he reached its southern side. The cliffs were pockmarked with almost circular holes, quite deep-looking despite being no wider than basketballs. Did these tubes mean that the cliffs were igneous rather than sedimentary? He couldn't muster much interest in geology right now.
A subtle noise grabbed his attention. Springs? A yellow ball of fuzz was skittering over the cliffs. It was so small that he could barely recognize it as a Joltik.
He dropped flat to the ground, ears back and eyes wide.
Wow. It never crossed my mind that there would be other Pokémon, too.
The Joltik moved by hopping, making a sharp vibrating sound with every leap.
Wild Pokémon live pretty much everywhere, so I should have expected this. I wonder if trainers come out here and catch them, or if they just exist out here, like wild animals. It's not even hiding.
The Joltik paused to idly tap the cliffside with its four feet.
Aww, It's like a cross between a guinea pig and a tarantula!
He watched the cute bug go about its inscrutable business. It zigzagged and turned at random like an energetic toddler. The little Joltik made a playground of the imposing cliff, skipping across the horizontal surface with complete ease, unburdened by gravity.
If I were your trainer, I would call you… Scuttle.
Noibat approached Scuttle respectfully. He doubted that the tiny Pokémon posed any danger to him, it looked as light as a loaf of bread. If anything, it would see him as a threat.
Maybe it can even help me? Pokémon can talk to each other! Or at least it seemed like they could.
While Noibat could scarcely imagine asking an insect for help as a human, it didn't seem so stupid as a two-foot-tall bat.
'Hello? Can you understand me?'
…is what he tried to say to Scuttle, but all he could manage was "Crrrrk?"
Two pairs of blue eyes trained themselves on Noibat. A second later, Scuttle bounded up the rock face, and disappeared into one of the holes dotting the cliff. He waited for a few minutes. Scuttle never returned.
Noibat was brimming with optimism in spite of Scuttle's flightiness. Maybe Scuttle was too nervous to talk to, but there had to be other Pokémon in the desert who could help him, right? Survival aside, meeting a real Pokémon was just plain exciting! It almost made up for the absurd situation Noibat was in, or for the fact that the name 'Noibat' had snuck back in while he was distracted. It clung to him like a bad odor, a miasma drawn in by the vacuum of his true name. The moment passed, and he was 'He' again.
He made a game of spotting Joltik as he continued along. He would hear their springy footsteps before he saw them, since even the moving Joltik were tricky to pick out from the glare of the sun. Whenever he sighted one, he called out to it, sometimes serious, sometimes joking.
"Rrrrrk!", meaning 'Help me, I'm lost!'.
No matter what he said, his words were translated into incomprehensible chatter. These chirps and croaks didn't seem to mean anything to the Joltik, either; they ran away when they heard them.
"Rrrkrrk, karrr," meaning 'Joel, get down here and face me like a bug!'.
He gave them silly nicknames, too: Ticked Off, Webber, Deer Friend, Springfield, Spider Pig, and of course, Sparky. Giving another creature the unfortunate moniker 'Fuzz Leapyear' did wonders for his own identity crisis.
Although the indentations in the cliff multiplied as the plateau arced northeast, the Joltik were getting harder to come by. It was here that he came across Charlotte. Unlike its brethren on the cliffs, Charlotte sat listlessly in the lengthening shadows of the scree.
You look sick, are you down here trying to sleep it off? Trust me, I know the feeling.
Still, he couldn't pass up the opportunity of talking to a Pokémon face to face. Perhaps the ailing Joltik would be more inclined to talk to him? Charlotte did not stir as he drew closer. Its eyes were half-closed.
"Rurrrck, rrrrrkkkkrrr, vmmmmm," he said in a hushed tone. "Sorry to wake you, I'm new here. I'm looking for shelter, or a way out of this desert. Do you need help?"
"Ti Ti!" Charlotte cried, and pounced at him!
"EEEEEE!" he screamed, not meaning anything in particular.
A confused scuffle followed, the earnest battle between two youngsters on Route 1: the Noibat flopping on the ground and swatting himself with his wings, the Joltik tossed about wildly yet maintaining a death grip on its opponent's neck ruff. The bat Pokémon redoubled its flailing as the diminutive bug began to crackle with energy, and then—
VAAAAM!
Noibat's ears were ringing and the weight on his neck was gone. He frantically patted himself down—no bite wounds. Charlotte was motionless again, legs in the air, reeling from an invisible attack.
Oof.
Noibat felt like he'd been tumbled with a hundred dryer sheets. He rubbed his ears as Charlotte righted itself, shook itself off, and bounced away, satisfied with its meal.
I guess I have ear powers, huh. That's nice. That's… great.
Noibat was left electrically and emotionally drained. Firstly, he felt stupid for bothering the Joltik. It was careless to treat wild Pokémon like they were squirrels in the park: Pokémon fought each other, it was their defining feature. Secondly, the Joltik were too dumb or too alien to talk to. Maybe Pokémon had no way of expressing complicated ideas like 'I'm a human who turned into a Pokémon, please get me out of this desert, I'm scared.' Maybe they had a complex language and he was babbling like a baby from their perspective. Even if a Pokémon wanted to help him, it would be impossible to get anything done if Noibat couldn't communicate. (For that matter, how was he supposed to communicate with humans? Even if he carried around a sign that read 'Help me, I'm a human who turned into a Noibat!', would anyone take him seriously?)
Damn it, I started calling myself 'Noibat' again! Why am I doing this to myself? Fine, from now on my name is… Jacob! No take backs.
So Jacob steered clear of the few Joltik he saw as he continued his trek. Jacob kept looking out across the scrubland, but nothing revealed itself except more mesas, buttes, and plateaus (Jacob realized he didn't know the difference). Jacob could have sworn that the horizon was shifting insidiously, as if to mock Jacob. Jacob watched as the shadow of the plateau dominated the landscape. Jacob still felt too hot, even in the shade. Jacob was tired of walking. Jacob was sore from jumping off a cliff. Jacob was done with being Jacob. He gave up the name as quickly as he'd adopted it.
He arrived at the east side of the plateau. Not only was he in complete shade, but the holes in the cliff face looked like proper caves, large enough to shelter inside! Many of these were too high up to reach in his current state; he would have to make do with the caves at ground level. He checked dozens of cave entrances which only extended a meter or so into the earth, until he finally found it: a cave whose interior was shrouded in sweet, cool darkness.
This cave felt weirdly foreboding, though he couldn't pinpoint why. Some instinct warned him not to enter, heedless of his own need to rest and heal. Was he scared of the dark as well as being scared of heights? No, there was a faint, rhythmic sound coming from inside the cave. Likely a Pokémon. After everything he'd gone through today, this last obstacle between him and the perfect shelter felt like a cruel joke.
So what if there's another Joltik in there?! I can stun it with my freaky ear attack, and then…
He hesitated on the threshold again, took a deep breath, and imagined the welcoming darkness draining some of his anger away.
It's been a long day, and I'm at my breaking point. I'll peek inside, and if I see something dangerous, well, there are other caves to try.
The cave was cramped, sandy, and pitch black, yet he could see it all the same: the walls were a jumble of sloped surfaces, as if the room had been scooped out with a spoon. He was shocked by how seamlessly his eyes adjusted to the gloom. The cave was empty, aside from a gray hairball which sprouted from the ceiling, the source of the noise. At first Noibat thought that this dust bunny of a Pokémon was a Joltik after all, but it was much too big, and had wings instead of legs. It was snoring like it had sleep apnea, the kind of sound that makes you grateful to have clear sinuses. A Woobat. He stared at the outlandish creature for a moment, caught up again by how crazy it was to see a living, breathing (or snoring) Pokémon.
Lucky I didn't go in guns blazing, or I'd have frightened this poor guy! I have to try and talk to it. If any Pokémon can make sense of me, surely another bat Pokémon can.
Noibat shut his eyes, and concentrated on whispering as soothingly as possible.
Vmmmmmm.
There was no mistaking it, the low hum was coming from his ears!
"EEEEEEETCH!" the Woobat squealed deafeningly.
The Woobat was obviously very startled to find a Noibat watching it sleep. It dropped from the ceiling with a Pop! and began to pummel him with its wings. Noibat struck back, barely fending off the much lighter bat.
The Woobat disengaged and hovered in the back of the cave, flapping its wings defiantly. Its body language was clear: 'This is my cave, leave before I make you leave!'
Noibat considered trying out his so-called 'freaky ear attack' on the Woobat. Then again, he wasn't sure he could perform the attack at will, and this wild Pokémon seemed confident that it could take him. Best not to escalate beyond a slap fight. He wanted to talk, not to be a home invader.
This might be it! My first time speaking with a real Pokémon!
"Crrrvvvvrrvvvk?" Noibat tried once more, a croak superimposing over the humming of his ears. He meant to keep his message simple, but in the heat of the moment he somehow said everything at once:
'Please understand me.'
'I'm scared and lost.'
'I don't know who I am.'
'Help me.'
'Speak to me.'
The Woobat calmed down. It snuffled at Noibat a few times, appraising him blindly, thinking things over.
"Ceeeek. Eeekeeek," it chirped solemnly, speaking mostly through its nose. Then the Woobat flew out of the cave and was gone.
Here Noibat was, in a hostile desert, in a small cave, an amnesiac in an unfamiliar body. There were no signs of humans, and he couldn't understand the Pokémon.
Did… that Woobat just give up their cave because they felt sorry for me?
Maybe he could understand Pokémon a little bit. The only evidence of the cave's former owner was a mural of heart-shaped marks covering the ceiling.
