Dark 5.6: Missed Connections

  Lyra

  May 25, 2020

  There’s a familiar face in the lobby as you walk out from the trial chamber.

  “Kekoa?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

  He pushes himself off of the wall he’d been leaning against and shrugs. “Felt like someone should come out for this. And the girls shouldn’t really travel right now.”

  Right. Because one has… and the other is (unfortunately) caring for her. Not that it’s unfortunate Gen is being cared for. Just. Any other type of person. Not her.

  You had a plan. There was a way things were supposed to work out. They didn’t in a very big way and a less big one.

  (A part of you, the one that went to therapy for years and knows her own head a little too well, knows it’s easier for you to be mad about the smaller problem when the larger problem is too big to think about. The other parts of you would like that part to kindly shut the fuck up.)

  “Got here late. Wouldn’t have been allowed to watch the trial anyway. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “No. I wasn’t expecting anyone would show up at all. It’s good to see you.”

  And it is. You love your team and Shirona’s togekiss is good company for a bird, but you haven’t had anyone to really talk to for days. You can’t imagine traveling solo for more than a week. You’d go mad.

  “Do you want to do something after I drop off my pokémon?” you ask. “I saw an ice cream place down the road. I was going to go after we won.”

  Kekoa actually shudders. Weird. You didn’t think he minded sweets. “Nope. I was eating there when the sun went out.”

  Oh. Right. That. Thank goodness you hadn’t actually been near the cliff face of Route 3 when that happened. You were also close enough to the Pokémon Center to just turn around and stumble your way there for evacuation. At least he was in a city. While holed up in the Center you heard the unearthly moans of a guzzlord. It thankfully didn’t approach. Probably sensed strange creatures on the strange world and avoided them. You wonder if the black hole dragon is as scared of you as you were of it.

  What would it be like to fall to another world entirely? One where you don’t know any of the environments, any of the species, where even physics itself could work differently. It would be the ultimate exploration. You think you’d catch on and handle it okay, but the start would be rough. No wonder the UBs are scared.

  “How long are you staying for?” you ask.

  “Not sure. Shirona’s picking me up tomorrow. Might sleep in Malie, might stay up here.”

  “You should stay up here,” you tell him. “We can stargaze. And there’s a cot in my hotel room you can use.”

  He shrugs. “Sure.”

  Kekoa’s eyes latch onto a plaque as you walk out. The one with the CO2 readings. Can’t remember exactly what it’s called. There’s a big spike after Hoenn. Probably what he’s looking at. It really is a tragedy. Nuclear and hydropower are one angry dragon away from catastrophe, geothermal isn’t reliable, wind and solar technologies aren’t good enough to upscale yet. If Hoenn happened a decade or two later things could’ve been fine. Unfortunately, they did not happen that way and they probably won’t be. A tragedy with no one to blame but two dead megalomaniacs.

  Genesis is going to be healed in two days. You’re glad for her. Truly. You hate that another psychic is going to be moving shit around in her head. You give Kekoa instructions to pass on: the best ways to summarize a lot of information on a physical page, how to keep digital backups that can’t be altered, tests to take over time to track how much you’ve changed and the normal amount of deviation humans go through without alteration. Kekoa interrupts before you can talk about meditation techniques. Tells you he won’t remember half of this so you might as well email her. You begrudgingly agree that it might be more useful. Cuicatl’s metang could be reading the email over Gen’s shoulder. Maybe they can just intercept it. They’ll know all of your tricks and be able to plan around them. But if it helps Gen, if it keeps her safe, you’ll take the risk. She’s already been through too much.

  Kekoa knows a lot about the stars. So do you. You know the names and distances and when and where they’re in the sky. He knows the stories Alola gave to them. Figured they’d have star myths with the wayfarers and the gods of the island being the embodiments of the sun and moon. Well, supposedly the embodiments. The actual Lunala leaves a little to be desired from what you’ve heard. Still strong! Just not a celestial body brought to earth.

  The conversation lulls.

  “Are you going to come back?” he asks.

  You haven’t decided. Genesis is there. She needs people looking out for her. Cuicatl is there. Maybe you’d go too far and hurt her body a little. Maybe she’d go too far and fundamentally change who you are as a person. The power dynamics aren’t great and she probably sees you as competition. Competition she could eliminate with a few tweaks. Maybe she’d be inspired by recent events and make you straight. There is a level of safety when Shirona is there. Without it? Now that she sees you as being in her way? Who knows. When Subarashī evolves into a salazzle you’ll have a way to keep her in line. Didn’t even anticipate that when you caught her. Back then you’d thought Cuicatl was straight.

  Things would be so much simpler if she was. But you don’t have the power to make her that way—no one should—and she does. Or could with the right captures. And why wouldn’t she?

  “You should,” Kekoa finally says when he realizes you won’t answer. “The girls shouldn’t be alone.”

  What? “Why would they be alone? Won’t you be there?”

  He shakes his head. “I’ve been rethinking the whole journey thing. Might continue. Might not.”

  You narrow your eyes at him. Might not be visible in the dim light. “Don’t throw your life away,” you hiss.

  “No idea what you’re talking about.” His voice is too forcefully even for him to not be lying.

  “You aren’t dropping out and going back to foster care, right? And I don’t think you’ve buried the hatchet with your brother. Not enough to live with him. So there’s only one place you’d go if you quit. Don’t. Throw. Your. Life. Away.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” he says. “About power. Everyone I’ve talked to says the champion doesn’t have it. The Kahunas can’t even kill bills they don’t like or get the challenge scholarships fully funded. We can’t exactly vote our way out when the colonizers outnumber us. Even Interpol couldn’t keep Gen safe or make what the Gages did have consequences. There’s only one way out, and it’s not through the system.”

  “Yeah, system’s fucked,” you mutter. Kekoa blinks. Didn’t expect you to agree on that. “But better people than us have fought it only to end up no better than a bug fighting a windshield. Why do you, specifically, think you can change things?”

  He glowers are you. “If everyone thought that—“

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ve read Dr. Seuss. Fact is, just because you step up, it doesn’t mean an army will follow you. Most revolutions end up in a bunch of dead kids who get forgotten in a year or two.” You meet his glower with your own. “You’re sixteen. Are you willing to throw the rest of your life away for, what, a chance a bunch of teenage thugs topple the U.S. military? I’m not a betting girl, but if I were I wouldn’t take those odds.”

  “Duh,” he scoffs. “You have nothing to lose if nothing changes. But if it meant something like the Genesis shitshow could never happen again—“

  Something snaps inside you. “You’re doing this for her? Getting yourself locked up for life? Killed? For her? How does that help her at all?”

  He looks away from you and starts to stand up.

  “Does she even know? Does Cuicatl?”

  “I’m going to tell them,” he grumbles. It’s barely audible. His arms are glued to his sides and it’s clear you aren’t going to get through to him.

  “You’d better.”

  Hopefully they can straighten him out. Save him from whatever the hell this is. You close your eyes and rub your temples, barely suppressing a groan. Too much like your brother. Wannabe heroes hyped up on stories. Don’t they ever look at the real world? Actual heroes don’t get happy endings. Most of the time they don’t even fix the thing they were trying to solve. Trade one dictator for another, open up territory for a new dragon to move in, delay the inevitable for a year or two. That’s the most they can hope for. That’s the most change they’ll ever make.

  Kekoa doesn’t say anything for the rest of the night. In the morning he can barely manage a “happy early birthday” before he sets out.

  May 28, 2020

  Jishin evolved into a mudsdale the other day. You’re happy to brush her and give her praise and rub her neck and give her all the love she needs. But you can’t talk to her. You can’t ask her if she still wants to find her mother, if she still wants to be with you, if she still believes in her heart that her life’s purpose is to serve humans.

  Musei has grown larger and bolder since you caught him. He’s still almost unbearably loud at times while insisting he’s actually very quiet. Does he want to visit his home again whenever you’re in Melemele? Would it just make him homesick? You can’t ask. Just give him fruit and scratch him behind the ears.

  Rigan-ryū never talked much even after Cuicatl dropped the act and translated. Turns out that pyukumuku don’t really have that much going on in the head. They’re capable of tricks and moments of cleverness, but most of the time their mind is almost turned off as they filter feed. Probably saves energy. Brains are calorie intensive. She didn’t have to fight yesterday. You’re grateful for that. The electric gym was never a good matchup for her. Does she want to go back to the water or her ball? Does she even want to be out for team bonding time when she doesn’t really seem to care about any of them? Cuicatl could ask and get an answer in a second. If you were still at Shirona’s you could just call her over and get the answer relayed. How much easier training must be for her. (How much easier it was for you.) It’s already starting to feel like you’ve been newly deafened. You hate that you ever came to depend on her so much. Hate that she slipped past your defenses.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  You idly slip another two fish to Subarashī. She’s such a good salandit and she went above and beyond yesterday.

  Mirai stands faithfully by your side. You trained the absol for months before you started traveling. She was barely more than a calf then. She’s known for almost half her life and she’s never been able to speak a word to you. Even Cuicatl can’t get around that. Maybe you should catch some kind of neutral translator when you get the chance. Slowking are out. Zoroark or lucario, then? Are lucario too close to psychics? Are you really willing to deal with a zoroark? That feels like the kind of thing Cuicatl would jump at.

  You’ve promised yourself to never catch the kind of pokémon Cuicatl would jump at. It just isn’t worth it. Lucario feels too tame for her. Maybe she’d settle for it. But it would just be a boring old pseudo-telepathic martial artist canine to her. Nothing exciting like a deep-sea bug, actual tyrantrum, or extraterrestrial invader.

  You have no idea how she hasn’t killed herself. (You wonder if she’s tried. Kalani, Z-Moves, the rampaging tyrantrum… you wonder if you’ve seen the attempts and didn’t recognize them for what they were. (You hate the image of her standing on the roof of a parking garage, seeing security, and realizing that, no, she can’t do this, and then having to explain to your parents what you were doing there.))

  Damn it. Why does everything have to be so complicated?

  Your stargazing is interrupted by the ringing of your phone. When you see the caller, you have a bout of paranoia. Did she somehow hear you earlier? Then you accept that, no, she wouldn’t have. Cuicatl’s miles away from you. Well out of even the best psychic’s range. Fine. What does she want?

  “What?” You don’t bother with niceties upon answering.

  She takes so long to answer that you start to suspect this was an accidental call. “Is this too late? I’m sorry if you were sleeping?”

  Her accent is way more noticeable on the phone. It’s almost embarrassing she kept you in the dark for as long as she did. You’d read accounts of brainwashing victims. You knew that if you ever felt way too positively about someone you should figure out why. But you hadn’t been prepared for someone like her. Someone reasonably nice but not exceptionally so. You thought she was decent enough. Not someone like… that. It meant you couldn’t see her for what she was, no matter how little she tried to hide it. What a fool you were.

  “I’m awake. For now.”

  “Good.” You can hear a short, sharp bellow in the background of her call. “Coco says hello.”

  “Hi, Coco.” You try to sound more positive than when you started the call. You wouldn’t want the dinosaur to think you’re mad at her. Then you take a deep breath and drop your voice’s pitch again. “Why are you calling?”

  You can hear her take a breath on the other end. At least there’s one thing she doesn’t hide. It’s just words she obscures. Every time she opens her mouth to speak, she’s in your head. You hate it. Even if it makes talking to her way easier.

  “It’s your birthday soon, right?” she says. “I wasn’t sure you would be on the trail. Wanted to call before.”

  Playing kind then. Great. You rub a hand against your temple and mentally groan. “Thank you.”

  You should probably ask her when her birthday is, or do something social and normal, but you don’t feel like it. You’re pretty sure hers isn’t for a few months anyway. Should be somewhere in your phone.

  “Are you ready to talk yet?” she asks.

  “No.” You already know you’d say something you’d regret down the line. You don’t think you hate her. Just… dislike her. And like her. At the same time. Again. Complicated. Too complicated to explain to a girl who might only understand half of what you say over the phone. “How’s your girlfriend?”

  “…we aren’t dating.” she says. “I told her no.”

  You bolt upright. The fuck? “Why?” you manage to stammer out. Because. Again. Why the fuck? They seemed enamored. Hell, they’re already literally sleeping with each other.

  Cuicatl sighs on the other end. Says something in what you’re pretty sure is Draconic. There’s a pause before she starts talking to you again. “Sorry. Wanted some privacy. Gen’s only like this because I’m the only girl she remembers. She can do better than me. People have never liked me and I barely understand them. Even the people who I thought loved me lied to me, and now I don’t know if I even know how to love someone else. Just. I’m not pretty. I know people don’t react to me the way they react to you.” She sighs. “You were right. She deserves better. She’ll learn that when she leaves the house. And then I don’t want to hold her back out of pity or get broken up with or—I don’t know. I don’t know how any of this works.”

  For a minute the line goes silent. No breathing. No background. Is she muting it? Why? Whatever the reason, you’re happy to let the silence continue as you’re caught up in your own thoughts.

  This is your opening. With a few well-placed words you could get her to back off and let you have your happy ending. You even know how you’d do it. Start by digging in more on the not being pretty comment. It’s subjective and she’s blind, it’s not something she would ever be able to shake. Especially if someone she obviously still trusts said it. Then maybe agree, or even just not disagree, that she’s bad at connecting to humans. Say that it was difficult for you to understand her intentions even if you understood her words. That sometimes she seemed more like a feral beast than an actual human. Which makes sense. Her healthiest relationship was with a hydreigon. Maybe play on her problems with her brother. With her temper, the risks she takes, and her team, well, sooner or later, she’d get Gen hurt.

  Or you could just stay silent and let her say all of that to herself.

  It would be so very easy. Get her out of the way. Get everything back on track. To get what you want. To be happy. And all you’d have to do is rip apart someone you called a friend. Maybe she’d never heal from it. Maybe it would push her over the edge outright.

  You’ve never exactly considered yourself a bad person. Not a good one to be sure. Those are vanishingly rare. But you don’t do bad things. Maybe you’re complicit in them, but you aren’t responsible. That’s where most people are at.

  If you did this, you would be a bad person. Maybe you could convince yourself otherwise most of the time, but deep down you’d know what the price of your happiness was. What you did. No proxies, no distance, nothing. Someone handed you a knife and bared their heart and you went ahead and stabbed them through.

  You look up at the stars.

  Psychic or not, you think you like Cuicatl. Or at least liked her. She’s not a good person. Girl believes in human sacrifice and calls herself a predator whenever people try to play on her guilt for what she’s done and will continue to do. But she loves the people close to her. She would die for them. Even let them kill her. And the people she loves have constantly let her down.

  You could do that.

  Would you be any better than her brother?

  You idly raise a hand towards the sky. The world is so vast. The stars are nearly infinite. You could spend your whole life exploring and never run out of discoveries to make. Kekoa might be willing to throw away his life at sixteen. Are you willing to throw away your soul? You’re young and the world is enormous. Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to find two good people in your life. You can cling to that hope. In the meantime, you can at least stay friends with the only good person you’ve ever met.

  You check your phone. She’s still on the call. “I think you’re wrong,” you finally tell her. “You draw people in who betray your trust.” People like you. “Yet you still give it freely. I know you can love someone, I’ve seen you with your team, and you deserve to be loved in return.” You ignore the pain in your heart and keep going. “Someday you’re going to realize how much you’re worth and it will change your world. Gen can see it. I’m sorry you can’t.”

  The call drops. Damn it. Were you even talking to anyone? You let the phone fall down onto your chest and close your eyes. For a minute it’s only you, the mountain below, and the night air above. You can live with this. You can live with yourself.

  That will have to be enough.

  June 2, 2020

  As you walk up to the arcade you try to figure out who decided to meet up here. You can’t imagine Cuicatl gets anything out of this. Probably not Shirona’s thing. Never known Gen to go to them. Kekoa, then.

  You step in and crinkle your nose in annoyance. Electronic music blasts over the speakers, the room is dim enough for the bright colorful screens to be almost disorienting, and the whole place smells like cardboard pizza. Still, you find yourself stepping in time with the thumps of the music. It’s catchy and loud enough to press into your very soul.

  You find Gen first. She’s playing some kind of ball game and tuning out the world. Seems to be doing well enough from the string of tickets flowing from the machine. You walk up to her and say hello. She ignores you and presses new game. Did she not notice you or is she ignoring you on purpose? Probably the former. She’s not that good of an actress.

  Gen startles when you tap her shoulder before settling into a lovely genuine smile. Not that she knows another way to smile.

  “Lyra! Good to see you back.”

  She reaches out to hug you even though she barely knows you. You happily return it. She was always too good for someone like you.

  “You smell good,” she says. Probably the imorin. You’ll give Subarashī some more fish when you get back to Shirona’s. She’s been a useful little salandit.

  “You too.”

  “Didn’t know you liked these places.”

  She shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t think I do. There was a commercial on TV and I mentioned that I’d never been to one and Kekoa thought I should so I’m here.”

  It’s been minutes and you haven’t seen her glitch. You haven’t had the heart to hear if the cure worked, because you don’t want to think about Genesis in the same room as an alakazam. It seems it did. You imagine that means she’s no longer single. It stings. You’ll live. The world is a big place with many people. You can find someone else if it means keeping Genesis happy and Cuicatl emotionally whole.

  “How was your trip?” Gen asks. For anyone else you’d dismiss it as small talk and give them a few forgettable details. But with Genesis you know that she means the question, that she really does want to know.

  You try to summarize things as best as you can while shouting in an arcade. You think she gets most of it. Sometimes she laughs at your jokes or takes something you said and goes off on a mini-tangent and for a moment everything feels normal.

  It feels like home.

  The conversation tapers off because all good things must end. Gen puffs herself up and does her best serious face. “You going to be mean to Cuicatl?”

  “No.” And you’re pretty sure you mean it. You were out of line. You’ll probably never fully let your guard down around her, but she hasn’t actually done anything to betray your trust.

  “Okay.” She relaxes in that way she does where all the tension leaves her and she collapses a bit too much before pulling herself back up a bit. “Let’s go upstairs and meet the others.”

  There’s a uniformed employee at the bottom of the stairs. He moves to block you before seeing Gen and letting you both through. Seems they’re giving Shirona and her guests the VIP treatment.

  Only Cuicatl is on the upstairs balcony. It had a nice view of the laser tag arena. Not that she can appreciate it.

  “Hi, Cuicatl,” Gen says before she slides in frustratingly close to the girl. Cuicatl leans into the touch and rests her head against Gen’s shoulders. Ugh. They’re already insufferably cute. Outside of the occasional hug you’ve never really taken Cuicatl for the physical affection type. With people anyway. Different story with her pokémon.

  You’re not sure Cuicatl knows you’re even hear. You clear your throat and says hello.

  Cuicatl’s eyes drift until they’re looking in your general direction. “Hello.” She says. “And thank you.”

  “For what?” Gen asks.

  Neither of you answer. Cuicatl probably doesn’t want to tell and you don’t want to acknowledge it aloud. You don’t trust your ability to keep emotion out of your voice.

  Gen looks between you curiously before letting the subject be dropped. “Where are the others?”

  “Playing tag. With Leo.”

  With Leo? The golisopod? You look over the railing and sure enough there’s a golisopod glowing a bright white under the blacklight. The pack barely fits around his body and he can only get the tip of a claw around the trigger. He’s climbed over a doorway so the only way to get to him is from the end of the hall leading his way or directly underneath him. His gun is kept rained at the hallway. When someone does approach from below, he flicks it down and zaps them with unnerving speed and accuracy.

  You wonder if Cuicatl gave him that advice. No. Probably not. How would she even know it?

  “He says he enjoys it. Good hunting practice.”

  You’re not sure you want her pokémon practicing to hunt humans. Even if Leo is going to be the least scary of her three pokémon when they’ve all evolved. Still a predatory monster bigger than you are.

  She’s kept a hydreigon in line before. You’ll just have to trust that she can handle a golisopod.

  You glance back at the two. Gen is positively beaming like she can’t believe she got so lucky. And Cuicatl is far more relaxed than you usual, like her worries are just out of reach

  They’re happy. They’re safe. You want that. You’re glad. You should be glad.

  You just wish you could be happy, too.