Post by Shana on Dec 28, 2009 21:36:28 GMT -6
The Pokemonitor Recordings
[/u][/size]Chapter 1: The Creation[/u]
Pokemon Aiming for: Pidgey
Length: 23,147 (with spaces)[/center]
“I’VE DONE IT!”
The excited declaration disturbed an entire flock of Pidgeotto that woke from their naps too early and scattered from amongst the tower of the research lab. Unlike the normal Frankenstein novels the scientist used to read, the outside weather was absolutely radiant: a gorgeous sun blessed the clear, blue sky with his warm rays. Teal, almond-shaped eyes marveled at the object before him. It was so beautiful…
Footsteps were heard moments before the door to the private laboratory burst open, propelled by his group of junior assistants: two of them were teenagers, sixteen or seventeen, whereas the third was midget: a ten-year-old prodigy that excelled in his field. The group was pushed aside not long after their appearance by a Wigglytuff that was a couple of feet taller than the youngest. All three of them looked around their master’s wide, round room: the papers and sketches he doodled on covered the pair of tables in the center of the room, the computer desk on the far wall opposite them, the recliner he slept in, and one or two were even rolled up soaking in the still-brewing coffee pot on the refreshment booth. The sight of the papers in the coffee pot caused the female to get a strange expression of “that idiot” on her face.
“Er…sir?” the teenage boy asked.
The scientist didn’t act as if he knew they were there. He had his back to the only window in the tower and was staring lovingly at his creation. All three apprentices followed his gaze to the item on the table. It was a round sphere of silver probably about the size of a softball with a thin, wire antenna supporting a prism instead of the usual pin-head like top.
“Awaken, my creation!” the scientist commanded.
To the juniors’ surprise, the little sphere quivered in place…and stopped. In the blink of an eye, three wires extended from the bottom of the sphere in a triangular shape: two in front and one in the back. Each wire was ended with a thin plate of round silver about the size of a dime to resemble feet. It rose to about two inches off the ground, but they had a feeling that it could go higher if it so desired. The miniature object gave off a computer-like noise and, when it turned to face them, they noticed a camera lense built in to the front about two centimeters back from the surface the way a normal camera lense was engineered. The researcher also turned to smile at them all.
“Say hello, everyone,” he held out his hand to indicate the object.
None of them said a word; they were hesitant. The invention was not: it focused the lense with another “vree vuurrr” upon the Wigglytuff. She placed her “hands” over her mouth with a gasp.
“What is her nickname?” the older man asked.
All three of the kids exchanged confused glances amongst each other before turning their blank faces to their master. Was he insane? He knew her name. Maybe it was a test.
“Her name is—“ the girl started to reply, but the sudden whirring of the computer screen downstairs made her stop.
“We’ve got data!” the boy grinned. His smile fell to a frown in the next instant as a light seemed to click on. “Wait a minute…we don’t have anything programmed with the computer to acquire data. How can we have data?”
“Why don’t we all go see what it is?” the scientist smiled.
His junior assistants nodded, turned, and headed back down the stairway to the second floor. The mansion that the scientist had inherited for his father was a lot bigger than the man’s private tower. It had two floors and a tower just for him. The first floor was used for all of their personal needs: kitchen, bedrooms, bathrooms, and a single (but extremely spacious) living room which they turned into a recreation room with couches, recliners, a large TV for video games, and a fireplace for the cold winters. On the other hand, the second floor was used completely for business and research. Where bedrooms would have been, they set up miniature personal offices instead. Two of the five bedrooms had been joined together to create a library for all of their books. Unfortunately, their research funding was never as large as they had hoped, so the books had to come from their pockets. This meant that the grand library that they had prepared the room for barely exited: only 1/5th of the shelves were filled with books. In the largest room of the second floor resided almost the entirety of their funding: a computer monitor that took up most of the wall (similar to the screen in the lobby of Viridian City’s Pokemon Center).
The monitor was networked to all of the offices’ computers and a huge base of computer towers set up specifically to analyze and hold limitless amounts of data. The “tower base” had been placed in the room with the huge monitor, of course, which they named “Data”. Along with the base, the room was decorated in tables, filing cabinets, shelves for failed experiments, a few CD racks with old-time floppies and modern CDs, half-empty or empty bottles of water and soda setting around, and, in one or two places, speakers that were wired hap-hazzardly to a miniature radio.
As the three walked in to the room with Wigglytuff waddling along behind them, they took a look at the computer screen. There was not one of them that were not completely surprised by what they saw: the monitor was filled with a complete analysis of the Wigglytuff. There was an exact picture of her to the far left with transparent square windows to the right overlapping each other and filled with incoming data. Her specimen, Pokedex number, type, moves, and even a list of generic foods common to Wigglytuff’s tastes were listed in one box. A second box took its time to fill up with the more complicated data: Wigglytuff’s nature, ability, current health, gender, “sheen”, item, traits, and even her Original Trainer and her nickname: Squeaker.
“S-sir!” the girl exclaimed, “how did you--?”
They all looked to the stairway as they had presumed the scientist had followed them. He had not. In unison, their surprised expressions sank to those of “not again”. As the apprentices began to drag themselves back upstairs, Wigglytuff’s large, blue eyes admired the information it had gathered. The group finally reached the tower and gradually opened the door to see their master pointing his finger at the object as if trying to train a Growlithe.
“Now, turn around!”
The youngest crossed his arms over her chest and shook his head in shame. His action caused his tamed, violet hair to shift across the tops of his forehead. Isoda Ein may have been the runt, but he was the most logical and analytical apprentice and it showed: although he could barely fit in the child-size lab coat that he always wore, it was always spotlessly clean and pressed as were the black pants and hunter green shirt that was always tucked in. The only reason his normal clothes were too big for him was because they had been handed down to him by his older brother. The poor kid had to wear a belt that was buckled in the third-to-last hole in order to keep them up. No one in Ein’s family wore glasses except for him, but Ein and his genius father had managed to produce a video-game visor that let him see normally or, with the push of a button, logged in to a storage system that was currently networked with the research lab he lived in.
‘The professor really has lost his mind,’ the boy thought.
A thin, auburn brow was raised skeptically in to the girl’s matching bangs. Her hand was placed on her hip and she was standing with most of her weight supported on her right leg. Miyazaki Satoko was the oldest of her mother’s four girls and the oldest, most mature of the three apprentices of the “deranged” scientist; she was also the most boyish despite her feminine figure. Her tomboy self was expressed through the way she held herself and through the slightly-bagging, dirty khakis, stained, hooded t-shirt, and backwards cap she wore which clashed horribly with the food-spotted lab coat that was tied by the sleeves around her hips. Such features, both in body and personality, seemed to run in her family. As she, too, shook her head, Satoko gazed upon the almost father-like figure worriedly.
‘There was no way he’ll be accepted into society again,’ were the words that crossed through her mind.
The oldest male apprentice, Okasa Kentaro (Ken for short), was the only one that did not feel anything but happiness for the scientist. While the other two were always concerned about their master’s sanity, it was more often-than-not Kentaro that expressed enthusiasm for the scientist in whatever mood the man happened to be in at the time. On most occasions, Ken would even join in crying or dancing with his idol. The boy was far more impulsive and proactive on expressing one’s feelings: he encouraged the others to do it a lot more, but neither of them took much interest. Kentaro, like the scientist, was an only child who was determined to reach whatever goal was set before him. He wasn’t lazy like Satoko, nor was he an over-achiever like Ein. This showed through and through with his appearance: his dark jeans sagged a hint over the tops of his sneakers, the Poliwhirl shirt he wore was a little wrinkled from leaving it in the dryer all night, and his lab coat had one or two stains from the sodas he drank. Even his dark brown hair was untidy with a pair of special curls that stuck up in the back.
It was the scientist himself that had brought them all together: he’d gone through hundreds of apprentices during his years of research and none of them had been able to live up to his expectations. They had come from the most accomplished families and schools, but the three he had taken under his wing were from small towns and their environments prevented them from expanding their knowledge. Satoko had dropped out of Pokemon Tech in her junior year because she found the work too boring and narrow; Ken was completely misunderstood by the aids that worked with Professors Oak and Birch: he had been shunned for his theory in Pokemon evolving from creatures that lived on the earth millions of years ago called “animals”; it was Ein that had been the most suppressed. The scientist had found the boy among a website that listed the nation’s top award-winning students in public schools. Ein had written the most complicated, intriguing paper on Pokemon individuality. When the scientist came to see Ein in Violet City, the boy was sitting in class doodling while the teacher went on about Pokemon dual-types and dual-weaknesses. He, like Satoko, was always picked on by the dumber kids that didn’t understand half of what the teacher knew who, as far as the scientist was concerned, could comprehend only a fourth of what Ein was capable of.
The scientist himself could be described as “a man before his time” for he was so forward in his mind that he was rarely ever present. This progressive way of thinking had evolved his ideas, but not his common sense: the man was so oblivious and absent-minded that he had a tendency to walk into both walls and doors, stop in mid-explanation of the most interesting subjects, and start drinking one soda, set it down, and open a whole new one without paying attention. There was very little one could tell about Gale Willow by just looking at his exterior, unlike his intelligent minions: light sea-green hair was messy and layered: the longest layer fell to his shoulders, the second to his ears, and the tips of his bangs dangled into the top of his vision. He was just as unkempt as Satoko and not nearly as well-dressed as the leading Pokemon researchers Oak, Elm, Birch, and Rowan. The ill-reputed scientist wore tennis shoes, tattered, ripped pants, and a very old shirt with the Pokemon League symbol on the front. His lab coat resembled more of a trench coat than the normal style with the League symbol on the front chest-pocket. Why he always bore the symbol remained a mystery to his apprentices.
While the man danced out his joy of accomplishing what seemed like the most impossible thing to do, the sphere rotated slowly around to face the window. A single Pidgey sat within the window watching the device. “Vree vuurr” was the greeting the device gave to the Pokemon.
“This,” the scientist stopped his dancing and happily gestured to the object, “is the Pokemonitor! It’s the researcher’s new best friend! We can analyze any Pokemon in the world with this thing! The data isn’t stored on its microchip, either, no, no. It’s sent directly to our huge database! We can send it under water, in to swamps, in to the freezing cold, or even a volcano and it’ll be just fine! Using this thing, we can study wild Pokemon in their natural habitat without disturbing them. Yes, aren’t I clever?”
He seemed to really be enjoying being able to brag about his new invention. Kentaro was the first to be as psyched as Willow.
“Yes, you are, Willow-sensei! We’ll get started on analyzing her data right away!”
“Yeeess,” the older man cooed, “we’ll have plenty of information to sell to Oak and his aids. On top of that, we may even be able to sell the information to the inventors of our beloved Pokegear and Poke-applications.”
Ein and Satoko both joined Kentaro in congratulating their master, though they were less wild about it than Ken was. They stood around talking about how he came up with the idea, not one of them noticing the adjustment of the lense on the Pokemonitor. The Pidgey that tilted its head was the only one paying any attention to the device. Downstairs, the computer monitor started filling up with information on this specific Pidgey. It let out a weak coo out of curiosity. It didn’t seem to care about the humans in the room: the little bird flew across the room, wrapped its talons around the device, lifted it off the table, and let out a slightly louder cry.
The group turned around in time to see the Pidgey start to flutter towards the window with the new invention. Willow freaked out, letting out a cry of horror, and grabbed the device. Pidgey pulled with all its might whereas Willow only had to tug; the device was nearly his.
“PIDGEYYY!” the bird cried.
The Pokemon flapped its little wings harder and faster; such action caused a Whirlwind attack to be stirred up within the tower. Papers flew everywhere, along with the coffee mug, and the tables were overturned. Willow was caught up in the treacherous winds. He held on with all his might, but the flying coffee mug whacked him in the face. As his head was knocked back with the force, his fingers’ grip released the device which sent the Pidgey shooting forward out the window with it. All three of his apprentices were at his side within seconds, kneeling beside the lithe form that was sprawled across the floor that was now littered with furniture, papers, and coffee.
“Willow-sensei, are you all right?” Kentaro asked.
The man sat up rubbing his head with a groan.
“Of course I’m not alright,” he snarled. “My invention has just been stolen by the most common bird in these lands! I demand some justice in this world!”
Satoko found it hard not to laugh at her master’s distorted judgment of the world being “injust” and “unfair” when he had so much. It was she that first placed her hand under his arm and helped him to his feet.
“We’ll go get it for you, Willow-sensei,” she brushed him off.
“What? You will?”
The man was completely shocked by her offer. Kentaro was the one who usually made irrational decisions, not Satoko! In fact, it was always Satoko that protested against doing anything that involved exercise; she was as lazy as a Snorlax. Ein also goggled at the woman’s proposal, but Kentaro didn’t hesitate.
“That’s right, Willow-san! Us three will go out into the world and get your prized invention back!”
The man was truly touched. He pretended to wipe away a (nonexistent) tear and, without warning, seized Satoko in a tight hug. It always freaked her out when he did this because she wasn’t a lovey-dovey sort of person and, when she was being completely honest with herself, it was really weird. Both Kentaro and Ein headed downstairs: Kentaro to the first floor, Ein only to the second. He had to prepare tracking devices for his two friends.
“W-Willow-sensei, umm…can you let go of me now, please?”
Willow leaned away from his oldest apprentice and smiled down at her warmly, much the way a father would admire his daughter. Although the man was very expressive in his emotions, his true feelings were never revealed. He wanted to tell those kids things that they would find very sentimental, true, and very unlike him. The truth was that he couldn’t tell them he loved them: it was too hard for him to say it aloud. That was just the way Gale Willow was.
The awkward silence was ended.
“Go get your things, Satoko, and meet me on the second floor,” he smiled.
She was extremely curious about what he looked like he wanted to say, but she shoved it out of her mind, moved around him, and headed to the first floor to get ready.