CHAPTER TEXT

Lucas waited until he and Judd were well out of earshot of the dining pavilion before telling the young man to sit down. (Come to think of it, was Judd even a young man if he could not grow old?)

“Okay,” Judd muttered. “I’ll tell you everything about the mission.”

Lucas frowned. “On the contrary, I will be the one to direct the conversation. I am an interviewer, after all, and you are my subject.”

Subject. I’m not sure I love that word when it’s used to refer to me, but whatever.

“So when the liquid was set before you, what did you think?” Lucas asked Judd, the Lucario’s dreadlock-like appendages standing on end.

“I was a bit suspicious, to be honest. I’ve never thought it wise to drink anything that you’ve left unattended. Someone might spike it, after all.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Does that happen often where you came from?”

“No,” Judd replied. “There’s not much nightlife in Kansas. Though that’s part of the reason I loved it there.”

“Fair enough. So you drank the orange liquid, and then what?”

“It felt like liquid fire was flooding my insides. It was quite painful - I have to imagine the other drinks were just as painful, judging by all those grimaces, though I don’t see how they could have been.”

“That does not matter,” Lucas replied curtly. “Please tell me how you felt upon learning your Pokémon species and that Jessica Petty would be your partner.”

Judd reclined a bit backward on the pillar before he replied.

“I was nervous. To use a fancier word, I was apprehensive. But I knew that there were some things I just had to do, including finding out how to work with Jessica and my bunkmates who seem to have such different personalities from me.”

“You know,” the Lucario offered, “it might be helpful to remember that compatible does not necessarily mean identical.”

“I know,” Judd replied. “But we’re still not on the best terms. I know it’s only my second day here, but still. When I saw it was Jessica…”.

“She’s the person whom you told me you wanted to work with, no?” Lucas asked.

Judd recalled that he had, in fact, told the Lucario that earlier in the day. Lucas had insisted that Judd’s wishes were irrelevant in terms of whom he’d be assigned to work with, and that could certainly be true. But he hadn’t exactly felt relieved when Jessica had shot down any notion of relying on God for help.

“She is,” Judd told Lucas. “But when I saw that I was a Fire-type and she was an Ice-type, I started to worry that we wouldn’t be so compatible for the mission after all. Fire and ice are opposites, which would make it hard to work together. Like, if you were going to create a team that would possess as little cohesion as possible, you couldn’t do much ‘better’ than Glaceon and Fennekin.”

“Uh-huh,” the Lucario replied with a slight nod. “So how do you feel you and Jessica communicated during the mission?”

“Well, at first we bickered about how to get through the fence. I was willing to use my claws to tear a hole, even if I got electrocuted as a result. But Jessica shot that idea down and said I should burn a hole in the fence, which is what I ended up doing.”

“So you acquiesced to her demands?”

“I mean,” Judd responded, “I guess you could say that. But it certainly wasn’t - I didn’t see it that way.”

“Noted,” Lucas muttered. “Once you got through the fence, how did the mission turn out? Do you have any feedback for yourself about how you communicated with Jessica, as well as any feedback on her as a partner?”

“Uh…” Judd began. “Will any of this be taken into consideration?”

The Lucario raised an eyebrow. “I can neither confirm nor deny that. It’s still best if you’re honest with us, though.”

“Okay then,” Judd admitted. “Of the three girls in Cabin Gemini, I think she was the best partner I could have been given.” What he didn’t say was that this was hardly a ringing endorsement; had he been partnered with Sophie, they’d have been lucky to score above 70 as opposed to Judd’s actual score of 88.

“Very well,” Lucas replied. “Why do you say she was the best option?”

“We were able to collect the eggs and milk - we agreed to divide and conquer. She was a lot nimbler than I was, which allowed her to steal the eggs from the Punchic in the chicken coop. Meanwhile, I knew more about how to milk a cow, or Miltank in this case, so I took that task.”

` “Now that you’re back in the ruins of Jet Force Isekai, what are your aspirations for your time here?”

Aspirations. What do I hope to have happen while I’m in this realm?

“Well, I guess I want to grow my faith,” Judd acknowledged. “I can still feel Jesus with me here. He knows me, after all, and He knows that I’m right. I only got through that last mission because of him.”

Lucas nodded, scribbling on a piece of paper next to him that Judd was fairly sure hadn’t been there before. When the Lucario was done with this, he glanced back up at his interviewee.

“You’ve told me that you don’t get along well with Sophie, and that one reason for that is because you believe and she doesn’t. If Sophie appeared in front of you right now and said that thanking God for your success is selling your own skills short, what would you tell her?”

Judd must have been staring pretty hard, for Lucas clarified something else. “That won’t happen,” the Lucario insisted. “The answers you give in this interview do not leave this space. You can say whatever you want about your bunkmates.”

True. But I’m sure they can also say whatever they’d like about me, no matter how foul their words might be.

“Well,” Judd replied, “I’d tell her that she’s wrong. I’d tell her that I can pray to the Lord as much as I want, and I can thank Him for the glory, because He deserves it.”

“Even if it means downplaying your own achievements? Judd, they’re your achievements, and you should take pride in them. The mission you faced today is the easiest you’ll have at Jet Force Isekai, but it still wasn’t easy in an absolute sense. I can tell you’re dead-tired.”

Judd frowned. “I’m literally dead, aren’t I?”

“True. Perhaps a poor choice of words on my part. However, there’s one more question I want to ask you, and that’s this: Are you excited for the ceremony tonight?”

Without any information about what tonight’s “ceremony” entails, it’s going to be hard to answer that question.

“What’s the ceremony?”

Lucas smiled at Judd, a certain glint in his red eyes. For a moment, he nearly resembled an Egyptian mummy from a horror movie.

“It’s the banishment ceremony. The three soloists, partnerships, or teams with the lowest scores will be evicted from Jet Force Isekai.”

Judd frowned. “ Evicted? Where will they go?”

“Elsewhere. And that’s Elsewhere with a capital E.”

Judd gulped. He believed right away that he didn’t want to know what going Elsewhere entailed. Wherever Elsewhere might have been, if you ended up there via getting one of the worst scores on your mission, it had to involve some sort of punishment.

“Don’t worry too much, Judd. You scored 88 in your mission - chances are that’s comfortably high enough to make it through.”

But that was hardly reassuring. One of the reasons Judd clung to his faith, the purpose it served during hard times, was the certainty it carried with it. He did not need to worry about where he’d come from, what his purpose in life was, or what would happen after he died, because those easy answers had been laid out for him like a sumptuous picnic. When Lucas qualified his prediction with chances are, those words compromised that certainty.

Of course, Judd did not voice this concern out loud. What good would it do him, or anyone else for that matter?

“I have one last question for you during this session,” Lucas announced. “Judd, who would you say your closest friend is out here?”

“Pardon me?”

The Lucario narrowed his red eyes. “I think you know what I mean. Who is the person in Jet Force Isekai that you trust more than anyone else?”

“Mizar” Judd replied automatically. “In fact, I think your compatibility index might have misjudged how well I’d work with those in my cabin, because if I were in charge…”.

“Well, you’re not in charge,” Lucas interrupted him. “And you’re not going to be in charge. You just have to accept that we know better than you whom you’re likely to work well with. In any case, you’d be wise to head back to dinner - it’ll start soon.”

On the way back to the dining pavilion, Judd couldn’t help but ponder something Lucas had mentioned. They’re your achievements. You should take pride in them.

Why shouldn’t I thank God for them too, though? He created me, after all.

Judd didn’t let that line of questioning go any further than that. There were some aspects of his faith, after all, that you just had to believe, even if you didn’t quite understand. This was one of them.

Once he returned to the pavilion, Judd saw that Mizar was sitting alone. “You don’t mind if I keep you some company, right?” the former asked.

Mizar shrugged. “Be my guest.”

Soon Jessica joined them, having evidently decided to celebrate a mission well accomplished. At Jet Force Isekai, there wasn’t much small talk to be made, which meant the conversation quickly turned to that day’s events.

“What score did you get on your mission, Mizar?” Jessica asked him. “You’ve been through dozens of them by now, haven’t you?”

“Yep. Lost count after twenty-four, which was also my age when I died.”

“Huh,” Judd muttered. “So we all seem to be between about eighteen and twenty-four. Is there a reason for that? Or does only God know that reason?”

Mizar rolled his eyes. “That’s one reason I left the Mormon church - the answers I was given to my many questions just never made much sense. Well, that and the excommunication for going by my initials.”

Jessica frowned. “That’s not right. Why would they kick you out for that?”

With a deep sigh, Mizar replied softly as follows: “You’d have to ask them. Of course, you can’t, but that’s beside the point. For whatever reason, they thought I should go by Michael Isaac Zane Alexander Rainsford - three middle names! Like, who does that?”

“Your parents, apparently” Judd blurted out.

“Anyway, Judd,” Mizar continued, “for someone who still hasn’t left his faith, you certainly have a lot of questions. As for my score, it was 91. I’m a veteran at this, so if anything I’d expected a higher score. Perhaps I got sloppy this time.”

“So as they would say,” Jessica said, “your passage through this week’s ceremony is a necessary but not sufficient condition for Judd and I lasting another week here. We scored three points lower.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it,” Mizar replied. “There’s usually at least one team that doesn’t crack sixty. And then there are those in the high sixties, low seventies range that just barely pass…”.

Judd knew Mizar was probably trying to comfort him, but what Judd didn’t have the heart to voice aloud was that this was making him worse, not better. He didn’t want to even ponder the possibility that he might be headed Elsewhere.

“You also asked why we all seem to be young adults,” Mizar continued. “Well, from what Toriel has told me, those of us here at Jet Force Isekai are selected from a specific category. We’re a subset of young people who died suddenly and violently, meaning that those who succumb to cancer or rare genetic diseases are not eligible.”

“Poor cancer patients,” Judd muttered earnestly.

“Indeed. They don’t get the privilege of ending up here. But honestly,” Mizar said, “I’ve grown used to it after a while. In fact, there’s a goal to fight for down here.”

“What do you mean by that?” As Judd asked that question, Jessica rolled her eyes as though she found all this philosophizing annoying.

Mizar, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered. “You see, heaven has nothing to strive for. There are no goals to reach, no problems to solve.”

“That sounds like paradise,” Judd remarked.

“It is paradise for a while, until you wish you had something to do. Perhaps death is the ultimate motivator, because with it hanging over us, we know we only have so much time to do what we want to do in life.”

“We’ve already died, though,” Jessica pointed out. “And yet we’re here now.”

“Still,” Mizar continued, “this isn’t paradise. But I don’t want paradise. Those people who wish to go to heaven can take their perfect afterlife world and run with it - it’s not for me.”

“Heaven is out there somewhere, though” Judd insisted. “I can feel it in my soul.”

Jessica narrowed her eyes. “I’m sure Sophie’s beaten that Rapidash to death by now, but why didn’t you go to heaven right away? If you were as pious as you seem to be, surely God would think you were worthy of reward?”

“Maybe he would,” Judd muttered. “But clearly he didn’t. Maybe I wasn’t devoted enough, or maybe the Lord is using me for a greater purpose.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“So it’s all part of His grand plan?” Mizar remarked.

Judd nodded. “That’s what I believe. That’s what I have to believe.”

Neither Jessica nor Mizar responded to that, because just then a heaping, juicy serving of chicken pot pie appeared in front of each person.

Mizar wrinkled his nose. “Chicken pot pie, with a pastry crust. Without that pastry crust it could be a bit healthier.”

Of course. Leave it to Mizar to care so much about nutrition when it hardly matters here.

“Do you have any more questions?” the aforementioned health nut asked Judd.

“Yeah. Is there any reason from your first life that you are so obsessed with your diet? Like…?”

Judd trailed off, only now realizing that maybe this wasn’t the best thing to ask. Jessica, too, grimaced, but Mizar didn’t appear offended at all.

“Yes, there is. You see, Judd, as much as the American diet sucks, there was a reason why I needed to eat healthily in life. Even if people who should eat healthily often don’t, I always strived to be very mindful of nutrition for a reason that didn’t apply to most people. ”

“And that reason is…?”

“Because I’m an athlete” Mizar stated matter-of-factly.

Judd stared at his companion, and then the latter clarified what he meant.

“Or at least, I was an athlete in my first life. I climbed mountains - I successfully reached the summit of a number of them, including every Fourteener in the state of Colorado.”

“Hey, I’m from a state that borders Colorado!” And I died in Colorado, Judd thought but didn’t say.

“Interesting” Mizar muttered in a blank tone that suggested he didn’t actually find it interesting. “I also climbed Kilimanjaro and Aconcagua, the tallest mountains in Africa and South America respectively. I never got to Denali, though - I went straight for the crown.”

“You climbed Mount Everest?” Judd asked, noticing that Jessica had dug into her chicken pot pie and seemed to be tuning out this conversation entirely.

Mizar gave Judd a look that was part smile, part grimace. “I tried to climb Mount Everest. But I learned the hard way that there’s a reason why even seasoned, experienced climbers have to turn back on Everest. And some of them face far worse fates than disappointment.”

Mizar did not elaborate further, but that hardly mattered. He’d said what truly needed to be said. After that, there was nothing to do but eat.

Before long, Judd had polished off his portion of chicken pot pie. Although his jaw had initially been too tired to eat, he found himself wanting seconds. But there were evidently no seconds here; you got enough calories to make it to the next meal. No more, no less.

After dessert, a s’more or whatever between two graham crackers, Lucas snapped his claws.

“Listen up, everyone!” the Lucario announced. “In a minute we’ll head down to the amphitheater for the banishment ceremony! There, the three individuals, partnerships, or teams that scored the lowest on today’s mission will be asked to leave the amphitheater immediately. So you’d better hope that isn’t you!”

Amidst the mature philosophical discussion Judd had just engaged in with Jessica and Mizar, he’d almost forgotten about why he’d been so nervous earlier. But now the nerves came rushing at him again, much like the pain a patient who’s just had surgery experiences after the anesthetic wears off.

I could be gone from this place in an hour. Not even.

If God was listening, of course, it was at least conceivable that He’d sent Judd here to prove himself. Maybe if he were banished, he’d be sent to the heavenly reward that awaited him. It probably wasn’t going to happen, but a man could dream, even if Sophie insisted doing so was foolish.

Toriel made her way to the brazier and lit a torch from it. In fact, come to think of it, there were several dozen torches beside the fire, and the other members were grabbing the torches one by one as though they’d done this many times before. Which some of them apparently had.

The torch Judd carried felt incredibly heavy in his arms. Objectively speaking, it couldn’t have weighed more than a handful of pounds, but maybe this seeming additional weight was a function of his nerves. In fact, it probably was.

Just like how elementary school students lined up behind their teacher when it was time to return to class from recess, the residents of Jet Force Isekai formed a single-file line as they marched down to the amphitheater. Relative to the dining pavilion, it was in the opposite direction from the cabins.

After a few minutes, they reached the semicircular amphitheater in between two sheer rock faces. For all the world, it resembled a monochrome version of the Red Rocks concert venue in Colorado, which Judd had visited once or twice on his trips there. Like most things in life, the fact that such a gorgeous heaven-sent arena existed in his own country had made him incredibly proud to be American.

The guildmistress then spoke up: “All of you have dipped your torches into the flames and acquired fire. This is part of the ritual of the banishment ceremony, because fire represents your afterlife here at Jet Force Isekai. When your fire’s gone, so are you.”

That sounds pretty ominous. It sure doesn’t carry the connotation of a loss meaning a direct ticket to heaven.

Toriel cleared her throat again. “I would like to thank all of you for taking part in the missions today. It has given us all the information we need, and it has also helped people and Pokémon on the surface of Planet Nexus.”

Judd frowned. “Are we in the center of Planet Nexus right now?” he asked Mizar in no more than a whisper, to which the latter nodded.

Wow. I don’t know how many hundreds, or even thousands, of miles of rock are above me. But that’s pretty alarming, isn’t it? Like my grave’s even deeper than six feet under.

Oh well. It’ll all be worth it. My soul is going to heaven pretty soon. I just need to deal with this ceremony.

“I will now list the three soloists, partnerships, or teams that have scored the lowest in the weekly Isekai mission and will therefore be banished from these ruins. I will start from the lowest score and continue to the third-lowest.”

I really feel for whoever’s third-lowest - they have to go through that false hope before it all comes crashing down. Of course, that could be me and Jessica!

“In last place, with a score of 22, we have the pair of Clancy Coventry and Brett Tolland.”

A gasp emanated from elsewhere in the amphitheater. It seemed to be coming from a section with many women, but Judd couldn’t place exactly where. In any case, he comforted himself with the number 22. Surely at least two parties had to have scored between 22 and 88, right?

“Clancy, Brett, you need to bring me your torches.”

A long-haired young man with significant beard scruff, as well as a paler man with curly brown hair, gingerly got to their feet. As they carried their torches over to Toriel, both of them looked like pet dogs about to be put down.

The man with longer hair fidgeted as he set his torch down for Toriel to snuff. The guildmistress sighed before delivering the following line:

“Clancy, the numbers have spoken.”

The numbers have spoken? What’s that supposed to mean?

“Time for you to go.”

Clancy lowered his head further before shuffling off into the distance, where he stood next to Lucas. In theory, nothing would prevent him from running away, but Judd couldn’t help but wonder if some invisible force made such an action impossible. In any case, he did not need to wonder for long, because it was time for the next torch to be snuffed.

The pale man, evidently Brett Tolland, strode to Toriel’s side. Unlike Clancy, Brett stood to his full height as he looked the guildmistress right between the eyes.

“Brett, the numbers have spoken.”

“Thank you,” Brett replied.

Toriel narrowed her eyes. “Why are you thanking me? This is where your adventure ends here at Jet Force Isekai.”

“Because whatever comes next when I arrive Elsewhere,” Brett remarked, “it can’t be as gruesome as the way I died. For those who don’t know, I got caught in the whirling blades at the chocolate factory after I fell into the chocolate river and couldn’t swim out. Ended up shutting down the place since my bloodied corpse’s presence there was a health code violation.”

A few of the others laughed nervously in an I’m-glad-that’s-not-me fashion, but Brett shook his head. “I’m serious, people! That’s how I died! Crazy, right, just like that fat kid from that old chocolate factory movie!”

“If you’re trying to stall for time,” Toriel stated coolly, “I won’t have any part of it. Time for you to go.”

“Very well” Brett stated before abandoning his torch and striding off into the distance, where Lucas the Lucario stood next to Clancy the human. It looked as though Lucas were telling Clancy something, but from this distance it was impossible to hear exactly what that might have been.

“Okay,” Toriel continued. “The second-lowest score was a score of 35, and it went to…”.

Judd tuned the banishment ceremony out after that, figuring that if the two lowest scores were 22 and 35, it was highly unlikely that his own score of 88 would put him on the chopping block. Still, he didn’t allow himself to relax fully until the guildmistress announced that there would be no more banishments that night, and Judd found himself not having been selected.

The guildmistress smiled. “That’s all. Grab your torches, head back to the pavilion. Good night.”

Judd didn’t need to be told twice. The rock formations on either side of the amphitheater might have been beautiful, but he knew that from this point forward, the arena would be a place of fear. Whenever he entered it, he would be seized by the frightening anticipation of being sent Elsewhere.

Well, I passed the first mission with flying colors. That buys me another week in purgatory. Of course, it’s an open question whether I want to be in this purgatory any longer, or if I’d rather just get the banishment over with.

That was one thing about the faith Judd clung to in the face of an unexpected afterlife. He hated the idea of not having answers, and would grab hold of whatever certainty he could find in a world of so many unknowns.

As he walked back to the pavilion, Judd saw the seven silhouettes of the people who were to be banished Elsewhere. It was then that an intrusive thought entered his mind.

Maybe, as a selfless act of kindness, he could volunteer to take one of their places. He could buy someone an extra week in these ruins, and maybe an extra week could turn into an extra month, which could turn into an extra year. Yes, it would be a major sacrifice from Judd, but just like Jesus on the cross, he was willing to lay down his own life for another’s mistake.

No. That’s ridiculous. You don’t know what Elsewhere is heaven - in fact, it probably isn’t. You know that it’s a pipe dream. In reality, banishment is a punishment.

Judd had to allow the more rational side of his mind to prevail. He would not make such an impulsive decision that, for all he knew, he might end up regretting. He could not allow that.

My Lord, I pray that You may grant the banished the strength they will need to handle whatever comes when they arrive Elsewhere. Amen.

Judd wasn’t going to be evicted from these ruins. Not yet, anyway.

----------------------------------------

At the reception desk of a luxurious resort, a cerulean Charizard sat in front of his computer, relentlessly clacking his claws against the keyboard in order to fill the screen with words.

I have to be as detailed as possible, the Charizard thought to himself. Otherwise my “theme song” will be utterly worthless.

He had just come up with a melody called “Skipper The Derg,” which went to the tune of the theme song to a children’s TV show on a planet they called Earth, when the phone rang.

Skipper sighed. As much as he wanted to work on what some might call a “vanity project”, now was not the time. His boss had put him where he was now, granting him a stable contract of employment at the Blue Lotus, and she could take him down whenever she felt like it. Ultimately, his boss called all the shots.

So Skipper answered the phone. “Hello, boss?” he inquired.

“Yes, this is your boss” the sweet, vaguely feminine tone on the other end replied. “How are the renovations coming along at the hotel?”

“They’re complete,” Skipper responded. “We’re ready to have the guests move in any day now.”

“Wonderful,” the boss told him. “So you’ve checked that the kitchens are clean enough that food can be prepared and served safely to all the guests?”

“We have,” Skipper said.

“And the activities are all set up?”

Skipper nodded. Of course, he was well aware that his boss could not see this act, so he then cleared his throat and clarified that this was indeed the case.

“Did you ensure that the parasailing vessel and all the necessary equipment is up to code? That’s not something that you want to cut costs on.”

“No, no, of course not. Everything is fine there - in fact, I’m willing to be the guinea pig on that. Just strap me in and dangle me above the ocean, and I don’t care if the thing snaps on me.”

“To be fair,” his boss pointed out, “ you have wings.”

“Right,” Skipper muttered. “I’m well aware that not all of our guests have those wings, so we’ll make sure they don’t need them. Well, we’ve already made sure, but we’ll triple-check everything for the sake of safety.”

“Excellent. Have you ensured that the water quality at the beach is safe for both humans and Pokémon to swim in?”

“We have. The health inspectors have come multiple times to do readings, including just three days ago, and there’s no level of bacteria beyond…beyond what would normally be expected in healthy water. And that goes for the pool too.”

Skipper could practically hear the frown in his boss’ voice as she replied thusly: “It’s best to measure the bacteria levels every day. A lot can happen in three days, or longer if you’re inspecting it on a less frequent basis like weekly.”

“Yes,” Skipper insisted.

“Very well. The inspectors will return soon, but I trust that your resort is ready to accept guests. You may now leave this call.”

“Thank you” Skipper replied, trying to make it sound as though he were grateful merely for his boss’ approval rather than the fact that he could hang up. (In reality, it was a combination of both.)

Once Skipper The Derg had hung up, he kept working on his theme song. This was one of the many digital activities he partook in when he had no work to do. After all, the job of being a receptionist was much like that of a major league baseball player: Most of the time, you didn’t have to do anything, but every so often you did need to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

Anyway, after several minutes and many revisions, Skipper sat at his desk, admiring his work. He smiled brightly as he hummed the song he’d written.

“They call him Skipper,

Skipper the Derg,

The Derg who looks dapper,

That’s Skipper the Derg,

(By the way, that’s a tree, not iceberg),

And he can fly high,

Do you think that you can?

And he can smile wide,

(Which is more than any Meowth can),

Would you like a derg, like a derg, like a derg, like Skipper,

That’s Skipper the Derg!”

Skipper grinned even more widely once he’d gone through the song at least five times. “Lyrical genius is what that is” he said, allowing himself to bask in his ego at least temporarily. He laughed a great deal as he imagined crashing the bandstand on the resort’s private beach and belting out that tune.

Of course, Skipper could not indulge that fantasy too much right now. He still had a job to do, even when his boss wasn’t on the phone with him.

I should probably go meet with the concierge, he thought. If there’s anything else that needs to be done, she’ll be able to tell me.

So Skipper got up from his chair and lumbered over to the resort’s seaside entrance. This entrance was where he envisioned the guests would arrive once they’d traveled to the resort from wherever they lived. It was not connected to the hotel by a road, of course, so some might call this a naïve belief on Skipper’s part. But hey, a derg could dream!

A white sand beach ran parallel to the horizon for several miles. The beach itself was bordered by crystal-clear turquoise waves on one side and lush green mountains on the other. At one end of the beach, there stood a dock from which guests would be able to partake in activities such as jet skiing or parasailing. And of course, in the other direction there stood a bandstand from which Skipper one day wanted to perform for the resort’s guests.

Standing on the beach was a young human lady with orange hair pulled back in a ponytail. The woman stared out at the horizon, where the ocean seemed to go until it made contact with the sky many miles away. It was impossible to tell from here where one ended and the other began, making it seem as though the possibilities were endless.

“Haru?” Skipper asked, for that was the concierge’s name.

Haru’s gaze did not waver from the horizon. She kept looking out there as though she expected a ship to appear somewhere in the waves and head for shore.

“What’s wrong, Haru?” Skipper inquired. “Do you want to hear my theme song?”

The concierge shook her head, finally facing the Charizard. “As a matter of fact, Skipper, I don’t want to hear your theme song. I don’t think it would help me right now.”

“Okay, then what would help?”

Haru sighed in a rather exasperated manner. She glanced up at the densely forested mountains that abutted the sandy shore, running a hand through her hair.

“I think you know exactly what would help,” the concierge stated. “I’ve got a job to do, but I’m unable to do it so long as the guests don’t arrive.”

“They’ll come eventually,” Skipper assured Haru. “The boss mentioned that we were okay to open, and then the first guests should get here any day.”

“That’s what she keeps saying, though,” Haru replied morosely. “Isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is,” the Charizard muttered. “But we’ve gotten the official okay from the boss. And the boss’ word is final, even against mine.”

“Yes, yes, of course the boss knows best” the concierge responded curtly, though her tone suggested she wasn’t fully convinced this was true. In any case, Skipper spoke up next.

“I’m as excited for our guests as you are, Haru,” Skipper insisted. “I can’t wait to get up on that bandstand and sing my theme song.”

Haru rolled her eyes and sighed. “I know. It’s just…I can’t help but feel as though we’re just like that kid from that Halloween movie they watch on Earth. What was his name again? It started with an L, that’s all I remember.”

Skipper smiled. “I happen to know what character you’re talking about. Wasn’t his name that old operating system nobody uses anymore?”

“Whatever. The point is, this kid didn’t go trick-or-treating with his friends because he wanted to wait in the pumpkin patch for the Great Pumpkin to arrive. He stared at the sky all night, hoping in vain for the Great Pumpkin to appear, but it never came.”

“Your point is…?” Skipper began.

“That I feel we’re just like that kid right now. We’re standing on this beach, which is our equivalent of the pumpkin patch, and we’re waiting for the Great Pump - I mean, guests, to come. And we have to consider that maybe they aren’t going to.”

“They will come, Haru. Don’t put that into the air.”

“How are you so sure?” Haru responded, tears filling her eyes. “Because I don’t see how you can be so confident about that when she keeps moving the goalposts. First they were going to arrive within a week. Then, when that didn’t happen, they were supposed to be here after two weeks. It’s been seven weeks now.”

“We had to fix some things here,” Skipper stated. “The inspection report stated that we weren’t fit to have guests just yet.”

“But even before we failed that report, we were told to expect guests, and yet none came. What evidence do you have that this time will be different?”

“The boss told me that this time would be different. It’s not like that kid waiting for the Great Pumpkin, because we at least have reason to think the Great Pumpkin - I mean, the guests - we’ve got reason to think they exist.”

Haru frowned. “Doesn’t that sound like a circular argument, though? You believe the guests will arrive because you have evidence, and your evidence is that the boss keeps assuring you that the guests will get here. That’s not evidence, Skipper - that’s the claim.”

“But they will come,” Skipper insisted. “You will be able to do your job, Haru. You have to have faith.”

The concierge sounded about two thousand years old when she finally replied. This is what she said:

“The only problem is that I’m sure the kid in the pumpkin patch had just as much faith that the Great Pumpkin would descend from the night sky. He believed it as sincerely as a kid can believe anything. And yet he was wrong. Who’s to say that we’re not wrong as well?”