~~~ Ch. 5 - Pokeball ~~~

In this world, humans are like swimmers and divers in the ocean. All types of deep divers and scuba swimmers learn about the second layer of seawater, called brine. This second type of salty water has taken many divers by surprise. You may not notice that the layer of brine is even there until you are in it. One moment, you can see. Next, you're in a world of blur and lose where you are. Even long-time professional divers can die if they lose their anchor points to the world around them, of location, orientation and direction.

~~~

The sun was bearing down on me, the heat amplified as I slid across the gravel, crossing over the iron and steel rails. A sour stench in the air, a trubbish crossed in front of me, blocking my path to the warehouse, emitting purple puffs of poisonous air from its putrid mouth—challenging me for my train yard.

I raised up my arms, proffering my blades, and hissed, warning it to get out of my way. Rolling, the trubbish lumbered towards me, lifting one foot up and pressing it forward, the garbage-bag animal rising and rotating with each step closer as I approached, their purple fumes pressed closer. We walked towards each other, time itself slowing down, a flash of green in my vision; to the side, the bag rolled slower and slower.

I stepped forward, another roll-step of the living trash continued on our collision course, even as I moved. A single slash, and the bag of garbage split like it had been filled with air. The abominable thing hadn't been moving fast enough to even react to my aggression. A seam followed my slash down the middle, expanding like a slow-motion video of a balloon popping, expelling a puff of the toxic air, old garbage spewing out onto the ground.

"Eeeaaaa," I cooed, standing taller and extending my antennae. One more trubbish gone from the trainyard wastes. A single steel feather slid from the sky, splitting me in two, hitting the ground with a ting. My head hit the ground, a purple ooze moseys into view.

A man with black hair was riding a bike home, covered in grease and smelling like the trainyard. Sitting up, the grass where my arms had been was cut up. I'd dug or cut slight gashes into the ground. Behind me, Lanky was there, lying against a tree, staring at me. How long had I been out? The sun hadn't moved much, so approximately an hour?

Lanky continued to stare. I curl my antennae back and stand up, looking him in the eyes. He looked away. Good.

The fading memory of the dream came to mind, followed up by memories. Pictures of a particularly problematic miltank from playing pokemon in my past life made their way to mind. If I ever ran into a fire-type equivalent or just a biological steamroller like Heartgold gym leader Whitney's roided-up cow, I was probably screwed six—no, seven ways to Sunday.

I was glad that neither the rockruff nor their owners had returned to the park. It had struggled quite a bit against the drying silk, tripping a couple times. After the second fall to the ground, Bully Blonde stepped forward and picked the dog up, cradling it as he stood back up. Facing Lanky, he said some stuff, then pointed at me. "We'll be back, we know it's not yours!" I intoned internally on his behalf.

He spoke his gibberish, trying to rub the silk off rockruff. Similar to shitty silly string on a spring morning, most of it didn't actually come off right away. He turned and glanced down, cradling the dog in one arm, while trying to peel off the silk piece by piece. It would be a bit longer before it would be dry enough to be peeled off.

As he walked off, Bully Brown motioned at the kids, who followed them in relative quiet. The purrloin stuck in back for a moment, giving me a stare, then turned around, following the smallest kid.

Behind me, Lanky was holding up his bag. He lifted it up with one hand, then held another one under it, turning the bag upside down. When nothing fell out, I complained, "Eaaaaa." Without food, what else could the kid offer? Drama lessons? Actually, with the way I moved, I was already by-default using exaggerated motions…

Look, I'm not saying I'm motivated by food. It's just commerce. I'm just… I'm just saying, you're not going to say no to doing things for good berries. Goods and services. Like a performer or bodyguard gets paid. It sure beats endlessly foraging, all right?

I went back to a tree that was across from Lanky, climbing up it and plucking off some leaves as the kid just talked into the air. I was getting thirsty, and I already committed to drinking from the fountain without help.

Some silk, some artistry, and a dash of patience, and the kid stopped talking, as I held a bowl made of leaves that I had formed, spindly arms holding the last bit in place. With the silk set, seemingly holding the leaves together, I let go, leaving the bowl to dry a bit. Slicing a chunk off the leaf that was the topmost cuff-link on my left leg, I set it out in front of me.

I cut the piece in half and bit small chunks out of each half, into hooks. The final product that formed was small, about the size of a teacup. Clacking my jaw open and shut, click click, click, I chirped in satisfaction. I sewed the hooks on. Two on top, the bottom of the bowl would press into a hardened leaf-blade. Lanky stared at the bowl as I waved it around, trying to let it dry and seal up a bit faster. Giving the sides of the cup a little prod with my right arm, the leaves held firm.

Skipping on my way to the fountain, I set it down right about the spot where the water would land, and filled it up. Using one arm to hook the cup, the leaves sagged slightly under the weight of the water, but the silk held it all together. Hooked onto my left arm, I tilted it towards my mouth and used my right arm to secure the bowl.

It worked well enough. I could probably do the whole thing with one arm if I added another hook on the bottom of the bowl and made a small hole in my leaf-blade. I'd have to start from scratch. Not keen on doing that, I took a couple more drinks before my thirst was sated.

The afternoon sun had progressed, and was threatening to get late. I went back to where Lanky was sitting, having watched me in complete silence, his mouth began twitching then he coughed, and started closing his eyes, rolling on the grass and dirt, coughing harder. What?

When the coughing fit stopped, he turned back over, water glistening in his eyes. Had he been crying? He had been coughing so hard he was crying? Wait. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, letting out a few more…

I clicked, my jaws slightly open. He was laughing!

Throwing my cup at Lanky's feet, I climbed into the tree and grabbed some more leaves, stuffing them in what remained of the leaf-cuff on my right leg, and beginning my trek to the city center. There had to be some sort of regulations restricting trainers from battling and catching Pokemon in the middle of the city, right?

Head high and watching for birds, I left the park as Lanky recovered. It took a bit of wandering around until I found a road not totally covered in potholes. Looking down, this main thoroughfare led to the city center. Even so, there weren't a lot of bikers or cars this far out. One here or there. As I walked forward, the number of people increased. I'm a bug. Flashes of green, gold, and blue hair. They all towered over me.

Looking back at the road, lumpy and uneven, the road was covered in holes. Lanky hadn't followed. Probably heading back home for the day. Do kids even go to school? I looked back at the thoroughfare. Smooth, even, decent traffic, but no congestion.

Proceeding, the bikes clearly outnumbered the cars. Easy, not even a question. There weren't that many people for a town that covered this much area. Ten to one. And they didn't ride on the sidewalks either! Talk about courtesy.

Drab smudges of gray in the distance indicated smokestacks. The blue sky behind them indicated they weren't in use. How does a city with this much infrastructure fall apart? What even was the industry that used to be here? And what was keeping the rest of the people here?

What keeps a person in a city, decades after the city's best years had passed, and the industry moved on?

The sun overhead was turning yellow as the density of people moving about increased. Bikers and pedestrians kept their distance, allowing me to pass by.

I was in a little building, sunlamps overhead. The sunflower pokemon were sitting in a tray, and customers were passing through the shop on their way home. I was wearing an apron of leaves, a whistle called for me, and I came to the front. A girl in the front of the store looked at me. Another whistle.

The walk was pretty good. People kept their distance from me, the buildings had shifted from tan, brown, and drab—the classic "none here but ghosts" vibe—to a cleaner, slicker blue-gray—a "someone might live or work here" drab vibe—instead. Though the blue might just be from the sky shifting to a darker blue.

Evening was threatening its arrival. At least it wasn't night. I had been slowing down. And the daydreams probably meant that I actually still needed sleep. Somewhere down the line into the center, the smell shifted from oil and metal and coal to perfume and frying food and flowers and plastic.

Taking a break for a moment, I saw a few small shops. One I had just passed had a bunch of thin tablet-like pads and screens facing the street in its displays. With various videos of Pokémon and what seemed to be high-profile trainer battles. Up ahead was the smell of grilling meat. A cart with a decent line of people in front indicated it was similar to a hot dog stand.

Continuing the walk, said line of people had taken notice of me. They stared, a couple of younger kids in the line holding their digital devices in my direction, presumably cameras recording me, but gave room as I passed. Their devices, whether phones, tablets or whatever—still didn't look like anything in the displays in the storefront, at least.

After passing them, I stood up taller and began to hum. "Ea Eah, e e Eah," I murmured, holding my arms close to my body to appear as non-threatening as possible. A lady in a blue uniform was directing people near the next intersection, a bird on her shoulder with a red and white feather on its forehead sticking almost straight up. The form of the pokemon was reminiscent of an eagle chick.

Stolen story; please report.

A fair few people glanced at me, then moved to the opposite side of the street, per the waving of her hands. Bugger. The bird had already been looking at me. You don't see anything, bird! A flash of light, a reflection to my right moved. It was on a door next to a closed store, dark tinted glass. What stared back? Red, unblinking eyes. A pair of loose antennae. My dark green thorax, yellow abdomen. Jaw fixed in a permanent grin.

Waving my arms, inspecting them in the mirror. My right arm blade looked a complete mess on both sides. Like an old blanket that couldn't be patched up again. Bike traffic in the road behind had effectively cleared out.

I examined my antennae in the reflection, pulling them this way and that, then waving my arms some more as well. Standing up taller, pulling them against my head, I peeked through the window. A light was on. The store wasn't closed. A reflective film was just on the inside-bottom of the window.

A few humans had stopped, another person, this time a guy, dressed in blue like the lady who had waved them on. Onlookers from the other side of the street tried to hold their cameras at me even as they were forced to move on. I opened and shut my jaw, rotating around to inspect as much as I could. A single thin tongue inside my mouth. The vestibules where the silk was pushed through.

I looked up. A blue and red sign blinked. Lights were on in the building. A metal handle in front of me. The smell. The smell of… berries. Lots of berries. Different kinds of berries.

The vibrations of the clicks of each camera through the air. I was a bug. The store wasn't closed.

A few cars were parked on the side of the road, a small crowd had gathered to watch, before a lady in dark blue shooed them along. She whistled. I finished inspecting myself, and turned to begin exploring anew.

Another whistle, and in front of me stood a bird. One with a single red and white feather at the center of their forehead. In the lady's hand, was a pokeball. With a small chirp, the lady whistled and the eagle-chick fluttered forward in order to stand in front of me.

She was taller than me by a couple feet. The chick was shorter than me by a couple feet. I am a wild, bug-type pokemon.

She had a Pokeball.

And I.

I am a pokemon.

~~~

Cameras clicked—whether from phones or otherwise, I didn't know. The girl didn't whistle again, and her pokemon chose to stay still. Well-trained, it was waiting for a command. The blue uniform. Local police? Blue and a uniform. Probably. Didn't see anything that looked like a badge. She held the ball in her hand, shifting it, rotating it around with her wrist in a circular motion.

I slid to the left, away from the store glass. Closer to the road. I took a step back. The eagle chick stared at me, cocking its head. It looked me in the eyes, its feathers puffed up. Didn't seem to care that I was twice its size. Battles probably caused a good amount of property damage. It hadn't taken very long for the pedestrians to clear. Unlucky timing, I guess? I wasn't directly cornered. The other police-person had disappeared.

I took another step back and risked a chance to cast my head around. On the way in I only admired the city. I hadn't paid attention to potential hiding spots. I snapped back to the eagle chick and the girl. If I could get about four blocks of dist—movement on the girl's face. There hadn't been anyone behind me. The girl stepped closer. I took another step back. The horizon had been shifting orange.

I could fight, and try to put the bird into submission. A fight was a challenge, however. The default behavior to a challenge? In Pokemon world? My challenges? My attempt to ward other Pokemon off? The default was always accepting. The permanent grin, the lack of sharp teeth. I was shorter than all the cars I'd passed.

A single, wild Pidgey's gust can send me tumbling. A single drop of poison can put my blade-arm out of commission. I'm not a fighter, damn it! I don't want to fight! I rubbed my blade-arms together. Fighting is dumb. I continued stepping back, another step into the street, the bird stalking closer.

"Aaaeeyy," I moaned, turning my now-split-in-two right leaf-arm out. I want to garden. Yeah, instead of fighting. Gardening. An actual garden. With flowers, succulents, bushes, fertilizer. The works. Not fighting. Birds are dumb. Fighting birds is double-dumb.

The pressure in my mouth built. I took another step back, entering direct line-of-sight with the officer. No longer diagonal to her. She whistled again, the bird shaking its head, opening its wings and standing as high as it could, marching at me. I held my arms back closer together. I didn't want to hurt it. I wasn't challenging anyone. I slipped my left arm down, pulling out a razor leaf. Its wings, larger than expected. It was less than half my height. Didn't even rise to mid-thorax.

She tossed the pokeball into the air.

It went up a couple feet.

Above her head.

It came down.

It fell back to her hand.

Probably my last good leaf. Looking away would be game over. The bird was too close. Couldn't look down. The others needed time. I held the pressure in my mouth. Getting caught is game over.

The bird sauntered closer, trying to intimidate. Sorry, shortstuff. Glad you're not bigger or made of steel. Not that I wanna fight you! I opened my mouth to spray the bird, to cover it in string, turning and ditching as fast as I could.

I would have done that. If silk had actually come out, that is. Instead, the eagle chick—no, not just eagle chick—rufflet just flinched, and only a single, short spurt of silk came out, just draping it. It continued to march closer to me, unfazed, about thirty feet away, warbling with each step.

The girl was drawing closer. I held my left arm horizontal against my thorax, razor-leaf sitting on top. Even if I was able to take out this one, how many pokemon did she have? Would she chase me?

She'd give chase. In the world I knew, dangerous, non-domesticated animals weren't allowed to run around cities, and in the pokemon world, these rules probably weren't any different.

Hopefully, she wouldn't take it personally.

I flung the leaf. The bird jumped back, flapping its wings. She yelped, looking down at her midsection. A gust of air scratched into my torso, tossing me off-balance. The rufflet looked at her.

It looked back at me, as if to say "Did you really just?"

Yeah, I did. I turned.

It screamed.

I ran.

I ran as fast as my spindly legs could take me. I was relying on the leftover stores of energy from the day of sun. An indignant caw echoed behind, the flapping of wings as it began pursuit. Straight down the main road I ran, chittering, running through a crowd of people. A gust of air, a whoosh behind me. I tucked in my antennae, dipping to the left, barely dodging the bird's dive. It blew past, turning to loop around.

Cutting through the pedestrians who watched, clicking my jaw as I ran, as if to say "Get out of the way! Definitely, yessir, just a normal spooked, don't-mess-with-me, no-morals, scared wild pokemon coming through!" A couple of them jumped back in surprise. A ball flew at me. One of the onlookers. A trainer? Even in the early evening, they'd have to do better than that.

I turned to my left. It was the other police officer, breathing hard, his face red. A pokeball in his hand. The lady officer's partner. He threw it. A flash of red, and facing me was the evolved form of a rockruff— a lycanroc. Standing on two legs, their eyes glowing, body marked in red in their midnight evolution, the creature stood, their own teeth stuck in a kind of threatening smile.

I turned around and ran the other way. Nope. Nopenopeno. No thanks. He shouted, but I had already started running the other way. The bird dived on me again, grabbed my antennae and pulled. Hard. It flapped, yanking more. Pulling me off-balance. The lycanroc hit me from behind. A yank, and the vibrations were muted. The lycanroc had launched us into the middle of the street. The lady officer was walking to us, limping at first, then her gait straightened as she proceeded.

She looked down at me, as I laid down, limbs splayed, lycanroc sitting on my back, her rufflet content to poke at my torn antennae. All my instincts and all my heart were screaming to run. But this was it. She held the ball out and tossed it up and down a couple times, taunting me. She dropped the ball on my head, and with a flash of red light, I was caught.

While in the pokeball, my senses were muted, and I finally had time to think. And, I think I realized, I fucked up. Not a little. A lot. I really, really fucked up. I couldn't breathe. I heard beeping. Muffled sounds of voices around me.

When I was human, animals that so much as looked scary that were around humans were put down. A dog scratching a child and making it cry? Put. Down. I had attacked or threatened, in no less than 24 hours, at least three humans. Yeah. There was more than enough evidence to put me down. And well, there were plenty of ways for that to happen. A Skar—No. A final beep. I was gasping for air.

No, I wasn't going to let that happen to me. I can chaaange! A click. "Eeeaaaa," I screamed. A flash of red, and I was standing on tile. Fluorescent lights in the ceiling. Soothing energy flowed. Not as good as sunlight, but windows indicated the sun was gone. Facing me…was the lycanroc. Oh. It was staring. Blocking the door to the outside. On my right was the lady officer. Her bird pokemon, sitting on her shoulder, looking down, opening its mouth, threatening to squawk.

Dead. That's what I was. The windows were too high. The lady finally noticed me hopping away at the wild pokemon that had escaped their entrapment. I needed distance. There, to the right, was another door. It had a flat handle on it.

Clacking my jaws as loud as I could, I ran to the door. The lycanroc also launched after me. It was only twenty feet away. I hooked the handle with my right arm-blade, pulled the door open, swung myself in, forearm still hooked, pushed the door shut as hard as I could. "EEEEE," I screamed, stars in my eyes as I crushed my spindly forearm between the door and the wall as I tried pulling it shut. I couldn't breathe, the police dog whining on the other side.

Yanking my arm, I shear the foreblade off. Half my right forearm now missing its leaf again, bent and wobbling like a bit of loose string tied to the end of a wire as I ran down the small hallway. "Cha—." A chansey sounded from a room at the end of the hall. I dash in. A window! I'm free! I run in, shutting the door behind me, avoiding catching my good arm in the door again. Cages, sinks. A window. A room full of metal torture devices, a cart. "Eee!" I screamed, pushing the chansey into the cart and out of my way. "Eeeeyyyyy!" it joins in our now-mutual screeching as it falls onto the ground. I jump over the pink blob, further shoving the cart into the wall, climbing on top, then jumping at the window with full force.

The cart slid backwards. All my vertical and horizontal momentum shifted the wrong way. I fell face-first to the floor. The cart slams into the door behind us, causing a short yelp from the hallway.

The door opens.

I was dead before. Now I was probably extra-dead.

Is my right arm leaking?