Kentucky Fried Torchic
05-05-2016, 06:59 PM
Earth Below Us
After circling the block a few times, Jonah Yermolov felt that it was safe to return to his home. He and his wife had both gotten dressed, eaten a modest breakfast in the area of their small apartment that they had decided was the kitchen, and all of the other little tasks that were a part of getting ready for the day. Both had left the apartment with a quick peck on the lips and then the couple was separated. Allie had gone off to a rehearsal at the concert hall in downtown Goldenrod, her heavy stringed instrument’s case gingerly placed in the little car that they shared as a couple, but still Jonah had made an effort to make it appear that everything was normal. He began walking towards the bus stop that he had always caught his bus at for the last year and a half, and only when he saw his wife drive by and waved at the passing vehicle did he keep walking, circling the block one, two, three times to make sure that his wife was not turning around on account of forgetting something. She was always losing track of things, but for the man who loved her it was far more endearing than frustrating. Once he was sure that the coast was clear, Jonah returned to the apartment, went up the three flights of stairs to the fourth floor and reentered his apartment.
How had it come to this?
Two weeks ago he had been employed, not happily so but still getting paid. But the lingering effects of the economic downturn had reduced the demand for microchips and to keep the company afloat, someone had decided to downsize the sales department. Jonah Yermolov had never been a particularly good salesman. He could describe all of the qualities and functions of the product that he was peddling to possible customers, but he never was able to be truly personable, to connect with them as a human being. Most of his sales had come from pure technical considerations rather than from any personal charisma on his part, and since all of that information was readily available in a handbook available to all members of the sales staff, that meant that Jonah was the worst performer in his department. It turned out that memorizing that handbook cover to cover had not been enough to stave off a layoff. So now he was thirty-two, unemployed, and directionless, with a wife to support but no idea of how he was going to do that, and that was not even mentioning the bills.
It was not just the utilities and the rent that were weighing on the Yermolov’s checkbook. A couple of months before he had lost his job, Jonah’s father had finally lost his battle with cancer. With his mother retired, Jonah was the only one who could even begin to take on the burden of all of the costs of the hospital stays and the treatments. He had hesitated to do so, what kind of son does that, hesitates to help out their own parents?, but his wife had insisted that they lend a hand anyway they could. That was when it seemed like there were two incomes coming into the household. It would have meant even more belt-tightening, but it seemed possible. But now, even with the severance package grudgingly afforded to him by the microchip distributor, there was no way Jonah could keep all of these plates spinning. Something had to give.
How had it come to this?
Jonah was reduced to sneaking around behind his wife’s back, unwilling and afraid to tell her the truth. He spent every workday of the last two weeks holed up in the apartment, frantically pouring over the daily newspaper available each day in the complex’s lobby and on job-finding websites in desperate hope of finding any kind of position that might take him and save the whole precarious house of cards from collapsing. The measures he was taking to conceal his unemployment were complicated but all-encompassing. He even kept his and Allie’s Pokémon in their Poke Balls in order to make sure that none of them would let it slip that her husband was not following his usual schedule, and every day at five-thirty he would leave the house, dressed again in his single ill-fitting suit that he had worn to work when he had a job, walk to the bus stop, and then return home, acting like he had just gotten home. The process started this day as it had like any other with the same predictable lack of results. After a few hours of failure, Jonah decided to take a break. He walked into the bedroom to rest his eyes for a bit and decide on a new plan of attack, but as he sat down on the bed, careful to lie above the covers rather than crawl underneath them, the pictures that sat on the nightstand caught his eye. One of them showed Jonah and Allie on their wedding day. Another one showed the couple along with several other men and women as well as a number of Pokémon. This was the one that Jonah picked up and looked at longingly.
How had it come to this?
The picture was of the group of trainers he had first traveled with when he was fifteen years old and had received his first Pokémon. Allie was there, that was how they had met after all, but there was a whole cast of characters, each face reminding Jonah of the memories he had made traveling through the Johto region. Their Pokémon behind them only added to the sense of togetherness and variety. Allie was holding her Cyndaquil and Jonah was flanked by his Croconaw. The two of them were standing close, but not too close. He had not yet told her how he felt when the picture was taken. How times had changed since then. Naturally the bonds of friendship frayed overtime as all of them went their separate ways. Many of them went on to travel in more regions, but Jonah and Allie’s families were not well-off enough to sanction another journey for their scions. In more recent years, they had all settled down, started families, and found jobs as professional battlers, breeders, and Pokémon researchers. Meanwhile Jonah was completely devoid of purpose, rudderless in a world that did not care about him.
He opened up the drawer in the nightstand and began rummaging through the contents, his brain still too alert with nostalgia to consider sleep right this moment. Inside he found a few of the letters he had exchanged with Allie when they were separated by studying in different colleges, a novel that he had been reading, and a few other trinkets. One of them that stood out was a yellow strip of paper enclosed in a plastic baggie that was coated slightly with dust. A note was attached to the outside of the make-shift container. As a wedding gift one of his travel companions from Johto who had been working on becoming a Pokémon professor and who had a penchant for myths had given this bag and note to him. It contained a “wish tag”, as she put it, which was supposed to allow someone to communicate with the legendary Pokémon Jirachi, who had the supposed ability to grant wishes. She was quick to reassure Jonah that this was just a legend, but that the gift symbolized her wishes for them as a couple. It had lain forgotten in the bottom of that nightstand for who knew how long, but now Jonah held it in his hand. He could really use a wish right now, he thought bitterly to himself.
How had it come to this?
On a whim, he unsealed the bag and pulled out the thin yellow strip of paper. He clutched it in his hands and said aloud, “I wish things were different.” Even though he had meant this action as only some kind of way to let off steam, that was when everything changed.
The world around Jonah and the item that he held in his hand lost all hue of color, being reduced instead to a monochromatic shadow of its former self. The man stood up, startled, and that confusion only grew when a small Pokémon appeared before him with a small audible pop. “Greetings,” it said, “I am Jirachi the Wish-Maker.”
Jonah stared at the Pokémon before him in disbelief. Earlier in his life he had taken pride in himself as a scientist and the habits of skepticism and empiricism were hard to stamp out. “This cannot be happening,” he said breathlessly.
The hovering Pokémon gave him an annoyed look. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before. But it is. You summoned me, so what’s your wish?”
“No,” Jonah said, “I didn’t summon you, I don’t have a wish. I was just thinking aloud.”
The legendary Pokémon gave a little wag of one of its small fingers. “Uh huh, nope,” it said. “I don’t appear to folks who are just blowing smoke. Only when someone has an incredibly deep longing that only a wish can fix.”
“Well, you’ve got it wrong,” Jonah said with an edge to his voice. “I’m fine, just go away.”
Jirachi sighed and mimed looking at its wrist. “Look pal, I’m on the clock whether you’re on board or not. Why not just talk to me a little bit? What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Besides encouraging my delusion?”
“You’re already holding a conversation with me pal.” Jonah let out a sigh at this and Jirachi eagerly spun around so that it was propping its lumpy yellow head in its hands. “So tell me, fella, what’s got you down?”
“Well, I don’t have a job for one thing and it looks like there’s no hope of getting another one. There’s all of these bills to pay, and my wife, my own wife, doesn’t know the half of what I’m facing.”
“So if you had a job, no money worries, and a completely honest relationship with your spouse, would you be happy?” Jirachi asked. “Because if that’s the case, make your wish, pal.”
Jonah thought for just one second before letting out a sigh he did not realize that he had been holding. “No,” he admitted, “I don’t have a purpose.”
“A purpose?”
“You know, a reason to be alive.”
“Ah, so growing old and living it up isn’t enough for you?”
“No, no,” Jonah said. “I want to actually accomplish something.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Cure cancer, discover a new species of Pokémon maybe?”
Jirachi rolled over onto its back in midair. “Those sound pretty generic, do you think you’d be happy with just any old purpose?”
“I suppose not.”
“Even if you did have a purpose, what would you do if you completed it?” Jirachi asked. “Let me demonstrate: have you ever thought you had a purpose before?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, what was your last purpose?”
“I guess getting Allie to fall in love with me and marry me.”
“And how did that work out?”
“I did it,” Jonah conceded with a sheepish smile.
“Mhm, and what did you think was your purpose before that?”
“To become a Pokémon trainer.”
“And did you?”
“Yes.”
“And before that?”
“Before that,” Jonah started, only to stop as he sifted through his memories. “Before that I wanted to find out what happened to my brother. Why he died.”
“Uh, okay,” Jirachi said with a little less pep.
But Jonah was not deterred. “And I gave up on that! There was nothing to go off of, no evidence or leads, just a mystery and a tragedy that broke my parents’ hearts! That’s what I’ve been missing in my life!”
Jirachi looked very uncomfortable now. “Look, you honestly don’t think that solving a cold case will make you happy, do you?”
“No, by now there would be nothing to work with,” Jonah said more to himself than to the floating Pokémon. “The only way to get the best answer would have been to have started long ago.” At the thought, the man’s head jerked up towards Jirachi. “Your wishes, can they alter the past?”
“I would have to call in a favor, but let me tell you, messing with the time streams is never a good idea. One action could have ripples and consequences beyond what you imagine.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Jonah said venomously. “I have nothing to lose.”
“What about your wife?”
“She’d probably be happier if she never met me,” said the human darkly. “But if I could go back and really work to solve the mystery of my brother’s death, then I would be satisfied. I wouldn’t feel so empty.”
“Jonah,” Jirachi said, suddenly very serious, “your mind is going down a dangerous path. You’re facing a crossroads between letting some things go and being happy and being consumed by an obsession.”
“What do you know?”
“I know that this isn’t like in the movies where you can just wish everything back to normal after you learn a valuable lesson. You only have one wish tag? You only get one wish. There’s no Control-Z’s in this.”
“You’re trying to trick me. You know something about this that you’re not telling me.”
“You’re right on the second half of that thought, it comes with the apotheosis, buddy, but I am not like your fairy-tale djinns and leprechauns trying to swindle you and make you miserable. I am trying to save you from making a huge mistake.”
“I’ve already made a huge mistake,” said Jonah, “and it’s time to rectify it.”
“There’s no convincing you, is there?”
“No.”
Jirachi hung its head and began drawing in energy. “Okay then Jonah V. Yermolov, make your wish then.”
“I wish I had never given up on figuring out how my brother expired,” Jonah said fluidly and with a confidence he had not felt in a long time.
“Okay, it will take about a minute for the changes to the time stream to kick in.”
“What will happen to me as I am? This whole timeline?”
“It’ll all be erased, it’ll have never existed,” Jirachi said solemnly. “Aside from the legendary Pokémon who exist outside of time this whole world will never have happened. So say goodbye to your friends, your mother, your Pokémon, your wife, your unborn daughter…”
Jonah could not help but flinch at that last word, but he did not voice any regret. After all, everything would be better off in this new world. “What’s the point? None of this ever happened. No one will remember anything. No one will remember me. Except for you, Jirachi.”
“That’s right, Jonah. I’ll remember you. And I hope you’ll be satisfied in your new life.”
“Will it hurt when I-“
* * *
Ten-year-old Jonah Yermolov was steadfastly scouting the area where the cave-in that had killed his brother had taken place a week earlier. His parents had expressly forbade him from traveling to Iron Island, but he had managed to find a sympathetic ride with a friend of his older sibling who had been ill the day of the incident and was feeling some no small amount of survivor’s guilt. With the older man’s pass, the young Jonah was able to gain access to all of the mining facilities on the island, including the roped-off area where Jonah’s brother and a few friends had descended into the bowls of the earth only to never come back up.
Jonah was frantically searching for something, anything that would hint at what had happened to his brother. He had even used alternating arguments appealing not only to the logos, but also to the pathos of his host’s guilt in order to secure the usage of the teen’s Onix as transportation into one of the open-pits where Jonah’s brother had been working. But as he walked the length of the shaft, there was nothing, no clues whatsoever that could lead to a furthering of the investigation. In another life, that would have been it, Jonah would have turned around and gone home, went on to become a Pokémon trainer, and lived a life that he considered a mediocrity. But in this life, a small force pushed Jonah to go further into the mine, past where it was marked safe, and as soon as his foot struck the first patch of ground beyond the ropes, the ground gave way, sending the boy plummeting several feet down onto hard rock.
He had screamed, naturally, the sound echoing through the caves until it scarcely sounded human, and now he lay on the ground, groaning in pain. Nothing was broken thankfully, but it still was best to get out of there. “Robert,” he cried hoarsely, “help!” While he waited to be rescued, Jonah turned on his flashlight in order to get a better view of his surroundings. After the beam of light had frightened away all of the Zubat roosting in the cave, he shined it on a small steel-gray Pokémon with bright blue eyes. Rather than being startled like the Zubat, this small Pokémon came closer to him and began to inspect Jonah’s injuries. In time, while waiting to be lifted out of the shaft by his brother’s friend’s Onix, this Aron would care for him, bringing him some medicinal plant-life and water, and even bond with the youth as it kept him company. But for now all of Jonah’s attention was focused on the pattern of dots that were etched into the cave walls in the form of dark red rubies that glinted under the glare of the flashlight. There was a pattern to the dots, and it became clear that it was some language that Jonah could not decipher, not yet at least. He committed the patterns to his memory and despite his pain could not help but smile at the fact that he had found his first hint at the mystery that was to consume him.
After circling the block a few times, Jonah Yermolov felt that it was safe to return to his home. He and his wife had both gotten dressed, eaten a modest breakfast in the area of their small apartment that they had decided was the kitchen, and all of the other little tasks that were a part of getting ready for the day. Both had left the apartment with a quick peck on the lips and then the couple was separated. Allie had gone off to a rehearsal at the concert hall in downtown Goldenrod, her heavy stringed instrument’s case gingerly placed in the little car that they shared as a couple, but still Jonah had made an effort to make it appear that everything was normal. He began walking towards the bus stop that he had always caught his bus at for the last year and a half, and only when he saw his wife drive by and waved at the passing vehicle did he keep walking, circling the block one, two, three times to make sure that his wife was not turning around on account of forgetting something. She was always losing track of things, but for the man who loved her it was far more endearing than frustrating. Once he was sure that the coast was clear, Jonah returned to the apartment, went up the three flights of stairs to the fourth floor and reentered his apartment.
How had it come to this?
Two weeks ago he had been employed, not happily so but still getting paid. But the lingering effects of the economic downturn had reduced the demand for microchips and to keep the company afloat, someone had decided to downsize the sales department. Jonah Yermolov had never been a particularly good salesman. He could describe all of the qualities and functions of the product that he was peddling to possible customers, but he never was able to be truly personable, to connect with them as a human being. Most of his sales had come from pure technical considerations rather than from any personal charisma on his part, and since all of that information was readily available in a handbook available to all members of the sales staff, that meant that Jonah was the worst performer in his department. It turned out that memorizing that handbook cover to cover had not been enough to stave off a layoff. So now he was thirty-two, unemployed, and directionless, with a wife to support but no idea of how he was going to do that, and that was not even mentioning the bills.
It was not just the utilities and the rent that were weighing on the Yermolov’s checkbook. A couple of months before he had lost his job, Jonah’s father had finally lost his battle with cancer. With his mother retired, Jonah was the only one who could even begin to take on the burden of all of the costs of the hospital stays and the treatments. He had hesitated to do so, what kind of son does that, hesitates to help out their own parents?, but his wife had insisted that they lend a hand anyway they could. That was when it seemed like there were two incomes coming into the household. It would have meant even more belt-tightening, but it seemed possible. But now, even with the severance package grudgingly afforded to him by the microchip distributor, there was no way Jonah could keep all of these plates spinning. Something had to give.
How had it come to this?
Jonah was reduced to sneaking around behind his wife’s back, unwilling and afraid to tell her the truth. He spent every workday of the last two weeks holed up in the apartment, frantically pouring over the daily newspaper available each day in the complex’s lobby and on job-finding websites in desperate hope of finding any kind of position that might take him and save the whole precarious house of cards from collapsing. The measures he was taking to conceal his unemployment were complicated but all-encompassing. He even kept his and Allie’s Pokémon in their Poke Balls in order to make sure that none of them would let it slip that her husband was not following his usual schedule, and every day at five-thirty he would leave the house, dressed again in his single ill-fitting suit that he had worn to work when he had a job, walk to the bus stop, and then return home, acting like he had just gotten home. The process started this day as it had like any other with the same predictable lack of results. After a few hours of failure, Jonah decided to take a break. He walked into the bedroom to rest his eyes for a bit and decide on a new plan of attack, but as he sat down on the bed, careful to lie above the covers rather than crawl underneath them, the pictures that sat on the nightstand caught his eye. One of them showed Jonah and Allie on their wedding day. Another one showed the couple along with several other men and women as well as a number of Pokémon. This was the one that Jonah picked up and looked at longingly.
How had it come to this?
The picture was of the group of trainers he had first traveled with when he was fifteen years old and had received his first Pokémon. Allie was there, that was how they had met after all, but there was a whole cast of characters, each face reminding Jonah of the memories he had made traveling through the Johto region. Their Pokémon behind them only added to the sense of togetherness and variety. Allie was holding her Cyndaquil and Jonah was flanked by his Croconaw. The two of them were standing close, but not too close. He had not yet told her how he felt when the picture was taken. How times had changed since then. Naturally the bonds of friendship frayed overtime as all of them went their separate ways. Many of them went on to travel in more regions, but Jonah and Allie’s families were not well-off enough to sanction another journey for their scions. In more recent years, they had all settled down, started families, and found jobs as professional battlers, breeders, and Pokémon researchers. Meanwhile Jonah was completely devoid of purpose, rudderless in a world that did not care about him.
He opened up the drawer in the nightstand and began rummaging through the contents, his brain still too alert with nostalgia to consider sleep right this moment. Inside he found a few of the letters he had exchanged with Allie when they were separated by studying in different colleges, a novel that he had been reading, and a few other trinkets. One of them that stood out was a yellow strip of paper enclosed in a plastic baggie that was coated slightly with dust. A note was attached to the outside of the make-shift container. As a wedding gift one of his travel companions from Johto who had been working on becoming a Pokémon professor and who had a penchant for myths had given this bag and note to him. It contained a “wish tag”, as she put it, which was supposed to allow someone to communicate with the legendary Pokémon Jirachi, who had the supposed ability to grant wishes. She was quick to reassure Jonah that this was just a legend, but that the gift symbolized her wishes for them as a couple. It had lain forgotten in the bottom of that nightstand for who knew how long, but now Jonah held it in his hand. He could really use a wish right now, he thought bitterly to himself.
How had it come to this?
On a whim, he unsealed the bag and pulled out the thin yellow strip of paper. He clutched it in his hands and said aloud, “I wish things were different.” Even though he had meant this action as only some kind of way to let off steam, that was when everything changed.
The world around Jonah and the item that he held in his hand lost all hue of color, being reduced instead to a monochromatic shadow of its former self. The man stood up, startled, and that confusion only grew when a small Pokémon appeared before him with a small audible pop. “Greetings,” it said, “I am Jirachi the Wish-Maker.”
Jonah stared at the Pokémon before him in disbelief. Earlier in his life he had taken pride in himself as a scientist and the habits of skepticism and empiricism were hard to stamp out. “This cannot be happening,” he said breathlessly.
The hovering Pokémon gave him an annoyed look. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before. But it is. You summoned me, so what’s your wish?”
“No,” Jonah said, “I didn’t summon you, I don’t have a wish. I was just thinking aloud.”
The legendary Pokémon gave a little wag of one of its small fingers. “Uh huh, nope,” it said. “I don’t appear to folks who are just blowing smoke. Only when someone has an incredibly deep longing that only a wish can fix.”
“Well, you’ve got it wrong,” Jonah said with an edge to his voice. “I’m fine, just go away.”
Jirachi sighed and mimed looking at its wrist. “Look pal, I’m on the clock whether you’re on board or not. Why not just talk to me a little bit? What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Besides encouraging my delusion?”
“You’re already holding a conversation with me pal.” Jonah let out a sigh at this and Jirachi eagerly spun around so that it was propping its lumpy yellow head in its hands. “So tell me, fella, what’s got you down?”
“Well, I don’t have a job for one thing and it looks like there’s no hope of getting another one. There’s all of these bills to pay, and my wife, my own wife, doesn’t know the half of what I’m facing.”
“So if you had a job, no money worries, and a completely honest relationship with your spouse, would you be happy?” Jirachi asked. “Because if that’s the case, make your wish, pal.”
Jonah thought for just one second before letting out a sigh he did not realize that he had been holding. “No,” he admitted, “I don’t have a purpose.”
“A purpose?”
“You know, a reason to be alive.”
“Ah, so growing old and living it up isn’t enough for you?”
“No, no,” Jonah said. “I want to actually accomplish something.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Cure cancer, discover a new species of Pokémon maybe?”
Jirachi rolled over onto its back in midair. “Those sound pretty generic, do you think you’d be happy with just any old purpose?”
“I suppose not.”
“Even if you did have a purpose, what would you do if you completed it?” Jirachi asked. “Let me demonstrate: have you ever thought you had a purpose before?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, what was your last purpose?”
“I guess getting Allie to fall in love with me and marry me.”
“And how did that work out?”
“I did it,” Jonah conceded with a sheepish smile.
“Mhm, and what did you think was your purpose before that?”
“To become a Pokémon trainer.”
“And did you?”
“Yes.”
“And before that?”
“Before that,” Jonah started, only to stop as he sifted through his memories. “Before that I wanted to find out what happened to my brother. Why he died.”
“Uh, okay,” Jirachi said with a little less pep.
But Jonah was not deterred. “And I gave up on that! There was nothing to go off of, no evidence or leads, just a mystery and a tragedy that broke my parents’ hearts! That’s what I’ve been missing in my life!”
Jirachi looked very uncomfortable now. “Look, you honestly don’t think that solving a cold case will make you happy, do you?”
“No, by now there would be nothing to work with,” Jonah said more to himself than to the floating Pokémon. “The only way to get the best answer would have been to have started long ago.” At the thought, the man’s head jerked up towards Jirachi. “Your wishes, can they alter the past?”
“I would have to call in a favor, but let me tell you, messing with the time streams is never a good idea. One action could have ripples and consequences beyond what you imagine.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Jonah said venomously. “I have nothing to lose.”
“What about your wife?”
“She’d probably be happier if she never met me,” said the human darkly. “But if I could go back and really work to solve the mystery of my brother’s death, then I would be satisfied. I wouldn’t feel so empty.”
“Jonah,” Jirachi said, suddenly very serious, “your mind is going down a dangerous path. You’re facing a crossroads between letting some things go and being happy and being consumed by an obsession.”
“What do you know?”
“I know that this isn’t like in the movies where you can just wish everything back to normal after you learn a valuable lesson. You only have one wish tag? You only get one wish. There’s no Control-Z’s in this.”
“You’re trying to trick me. You know something about this that you’re not telling me.”
“You’re right on the second half of that thought, it comes with the apotheosis, buddy, but I am not like your fairy-tale djinns and leprechauns trying to swindle you and make you miserable. I am trying to save you from making a huge mistake.”
“I’ve already made a huge mistake,” said Jonah, “and it’s time to rectify it.”
“There’s no convincing you, is there?”
“No.”
Jirachi hung its head and began drawing in energy. “Okay then Jonah V. Yermolov, make your wish then.”
“I wish I had never given up on figuring out how my brother expired,” Jonah said fluidly and with a confidence he had not felt in a long time.
“Okay, it will take about a minute for the changes to the time stream to kick in.”
“What will happen to me as I am? This whole timeline?”
“It’ll all be erased, it’ll have never existed,” Jirachi said solemnly. “Aside from the legendary Pokémon who exist outside of time this whole world will never have happened. So say goodbye to your friends, your mother, your Pokémon, your wife, your unborn daughter…”
Jonah could not help but flinch at that last word, but he did not voice any regret. After all, everything would be better off in this new world. “What’s the point? None of this ever happened. No one will remember anything. No one will remember me. Except for you, Jirachi.”
“That’s right, Jonah. I’ll remember you. And I hope you’ll be satisfied in your new life.”
“Will it hurt when I-“
* * *
Ten-year-old Jonah Yermolov was steadfastly scouting the area where the cave-in that had killed his brother had taken place a week earlier. His parents had expressly forbade him from traveling to Iron Island, but he had managed to find a sympathetic ride with a friend of his older sibling who had been ill the day of the incident and was feeling some no small amount of survivor’s guilt. With the older man’s pass, the young Jonah was able to gain access to all of the mining facilities on the island, including the roped-off area where Jonah’s brother and a few friends had descended into the bowls of the earth only to never come back up.
Jonah was frantically searching for something, anything that would hint at what had happened to his brother. He had even used alternating arguments appealing not only to the logos, but also to the pathos of his host’s guilt in order to secure the usage of the teen’s Onix as transportation into one of the open-pits where Jonah’s brother had been working. But as he walked the length of the shaft, there was nothing, no clues whatsoever that could lead to a furthering of the investigation. In another life, that would have been it, Jonah would have turned around and gone home, went on to become a Pokémon trainer, and lived a life that he considered a mediocrity. But in this life, a small force pushed Jonah to go further into the mine, past where it was marked safe, and as soon as his foot struck the first patch of ground beyond the ropes, the ground gave way, sending the boy plummeting several feet down onto hard rock.
He had screamed, naturally, the sound echoing through the caves until it scarcely sounded human, and now he lay on the ground, groaning in pain. Nothing was broken thankfully, but it still was best to get out of there. “Robert,” he cried hoarsely, “help!” While he waited to be rescued, Jonah turned on his flashlight in order to get a better view of his surroundings. After the beam of light had frightened away all of the Zubat roosting in the cave, he shined it on a small steel-gray Pokémon with bright blue eyes. Rather than being startled like the Zubat, this small Pokémon came closer to him and began to inspect Jonah’s injuries. In time, while waiting to be lifted out of the shaft by his brother’s friend’s Onix, this Aron would care for him, bringing him some medicinal plant-life and water, and even bond with the youth as it kept him company. But for now all of Jonah’s attention was focused on the pattern of dots that were etched into the cave walls in the form of dark red rubies that glinted under the glare of the flashlight. There was a pattern to the dots, and it became clear that it was some language that Jonah could not decipher, not yet at least. He committed the patterns to his memory and despite his pain could not help but smile at the fact that he had found his first hint at the mystery that was to consume him.