Author: EvilEevee
Displacement Part-2
That was fifty thousand years ago. For a long time after Mother died, I did nothing but run. I ran away, not sure where I was going. Actually, “fly” is more like it. When that Ditto (I didn’t know what it was at the time, actually) merged some of its transformable protoplasm with my unstable baby cells, I not only unconsciously rid myself of my need for my home sun’s radiation, but also intensified my psychic abilities. I could actually fly instead of just float around. I also have a little ability to Transform for short periods of time, for protection. It comes in handy.
The “Others” were, and are, Clefables, Wigglytuffs, and the Nidos. They didn’t need any special radiation in addition to food and water, so they did just fine on Earth. They had to interbreed with the native species of Earth to survive, so that’s why they are Pokémon now instead of what they were fifty thousand years ago. They don’t look much different, though. Smaller, and more physically inclined, but there’s still a good resemblance.
The remains of our ship lie in a cavern deep inside Mount Moon. The Clefables insisted on keeping it. As for the “light web” that dragged our ship to Earth, it was indeed, as Mother had said, a time-space distortion. Actually, that’s why Mother and I were on the ship in the first place; it was a scientific vessel that Mother had been hired to serve on, and it was going to go study a region of space where the “fabric” of space-time was all, er, (I’ll use a human idiom here) “out of whack.” I had no aunts or uncles, and my father was dead, so Mother had to bring me. There were Cleffas and Igglybuffs and Nidorans on board with their parents, but unfortunately no children like me.
I learned exactly what the “light-web” was by talking to someone I met one day, about twenty thousand years ago. Its species exists in four dimensions, not just three like I do. They can move through time like I can fly through air. This one lives on Earth, because “the forests are so beautiful.” The humans that have seen them, thinking them to be Pokémon, call them “Celebi.” I told it what I remembered, and it replied that it was probably a time-space distortion, from my description. It explained that our observation vessel had been caught in the distortion and hurled not only halfway across the galaxy and crashed on Earth, but approximately fifty thousand years backward in time.
“There would have been no chance of anybody rescuing you, since your species probably hadn’t even figured out how to even build a simple rocket.” it said. “You were fifty thousand years back from your spacefaring culture.” We keep in touch, the Earth-dwelling Celebi and I.
I avoid humans. Sometimes, one will catch a glimpse of me as I watch them, but I never try to talk to humans. I have seen what has happened to the rare Pokémon they consider “special”; locked away in cages and Pokéballs to be studied and analyzed like books. I do not know if I can be caught like a Pokémon, since I was originally not a Pokémon, but I do not want to risk my freedom for the knowledge.
I have been seen many times over the millennia by humans. Humans have seen me, but none have ever met me. They used to think I was a god, as they thought some of the other rare and unique Pokémon to be gods. They had dedicated shrines and temples to me, have told legends about me. They think I am from Earth. They may have thought I was from heaven, but an Earth heaven nonetheless.
Now, however, no one believes in the Pokémon gods. The religions of old are long dead, replaced by science. Some humans dedicate their lives to finding out more about the “Legendary Pokémon.” They know now that the “Legendaries,” the “Titans,” are Pokémon, like any Snorlax, Ampharos, or Nidorina, and can be trapped in a Poké Ball like any Snorlax, Ampharos, or Nidorina. The “gods” are Pokémon, mortal Pokémon. They do not know much about me, though. The legends and stories are only that: legends and stories. The only truths they know about me are these: I am Psychic. I am powerful. I am unique.
I am alone.
I have the body of a child, but my mind surpasses the wisest Alakazam. Young in form, but old in spirit. There is no one on this world who can see things as I do, on a scale of centuries. I have made many acquaintances (I say “acquaintances” and not “friends” because no one has ever truly seemed a “friend” to me) among Pokémon over the millennia, but I have always -and maybe always will- outlived them. Even the oldest Onix or Golem is gone after a few hundred years.
I would have said “gone like a blink of my eye” about the lives of the thousands of acquaintances I have made, people I have seen, Pokémon I have met, for what is a few hundred years compared to at least fifty thousand; but how would I know what to compare their blessedly shorter lives with? The new abilities I received from the Ditto allow my body to continuously regenerate itself, erasing any injuries or diseases I may get. I have existed for fifty millennia, outlasting human civilizations, watching the rise and fall of species. How much longer I will last? Another fifty thousand years? A hundred? A million years?… It is impossible to compare others’ lives with mine when I do not know when -or if- my own life will end.
I am alone.
Once, thousands of years ago, -I cannot remember when- I flew high up into the atmosphere, as far as I could breathe the thinning air. It was nighttime, and with the blanket of air thinned that high up, the moon and stars were clear beacons, not twinkling, none hidden by clouds. I pushed myself higher and higher until I could barely draw a breath- and I screamed. I screamed because I was alone, trapped here on this beautiful but isolated planet. I screamed because I had no one to turn to, no one to befriend me. I screamed because I wasn’t meant to be like this, born mortal and turned immortal! I am an accident… an accident… not meant to be who or what I am now.
What am I, really? Who am I? What is my purpose in life? Am I of Earth, or of the stars? Am I doomed to drift forever, as long as my life will be, searching for something?… someone?
Mother…Mother, I am lonely.
----------------------------------------------------
“Sir, come look at this!”
“What is it?”
“See the graph of Mewtwo’s brain activity? Do you remember that sequence we noticed a few days ago, and again yesterday? It’s coming back again! Look, the lines are following the exact same pattern as before!”
“Yes, very interesting…What do you think it is?”
“Well, I don’t know for sure, and neither do any of the others, but…I think it’s dreaming.”
“Dreaming? It couldn’t be. Dreams are data collected in the brain, then reorganized at night, in sometimes confusing ways. That’s one of the reasons sleep is so important; it’s when the brain has time to ‘clean up.’ How could Mewtwo be dreaming when it’s got nothing to dream about? If it is dreaming, its dreams must be very boring. It’s spent its whole life so far in that liquid chamber. It’s probably nothing to worry about, but keep monitoring that sequence. Record when it comes up.”
“Yes, sir. You’re right, it’s probably nothing.”
----------------------------------------------------
I am cradled in Mother’s arms. I am looking up into her warm, caring eyes. I know of nothing but love.
Mother holds me close to her, but I can see out the window. I look out at an endless black expanse, tiny flecks of light sweeping past as our ship moves out farther into space.
I avoid humans. Sometimes, one will catch a glimpse of me as I watch them, but I never try to talk to humans. I have seen what has happened to the rare Pokémon they consider “special”; locked away in cages and Pokéballs to be studied and analyzed like books. I do not know if I can be caught like a Pokémon, since I was originally not a Pokémon, but I do not want to risk my freedom for the knowledge.
Some humans dedicate their lives to finding out more about the “Legendary Pokémon.” They know now that the “Legendaries,” the “Titans,” are Pokémon, like any Snorlax, Ampharos, or Nidorina, and can be trapped in a Poké Ball like any Snorlax, Ampharos, or Nidorina. The “gods” are Pokémon, mortal Pokémon. They do not know much about me, though. The legends and stories are only that: legends and stories. The only truths they know about me are these: I am Psychic. I am powerful. I am unique.
Who am I? What am I, really? What is my purpose in life?
I am alone.
Mother…
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