Chapter Fifty-Two: Does Not Compute
"All right." Zero ran a hand through his hair, agitated. "Calm down. There's a way to fix this. There always is."
There had been minor glitches before – the most notable of which was Kester Ruby's failure to be picked up by the Magmas – but he'd managed to adapt his plan to fit. The calculations had worked out fine. This time, though... the computer itself was unable to foresee an ending that worked out in his favour.
Zero bit his lip.
"Let me see... Run a full computation of all current variables. See how it ends as things stand."
The screen told him it was calculating, and then flashed up a message:
KESTER RUBY: RETURNS HOME
SAPPHIRE BIRCH: PARTICIPATES IN EVER GRANDE TOURNAMENT
"FELICITY" KUSAGARI: DEAD
WORLD STILL EXISTS
OVERALL STATUS: YOU LOSE
"That's not really what I'm after," Zero said, scratching his temple nervously. "How about if I delay the Magmas' use of the Red Orb...?"
---
"This is bad," I said, staring up at the sky. "I guess we took longer than I thought."
The helicopters were no more than ink blots against the fog, and it looked like I was alone here.
So much for your heroic last-minute entrance, Puck sighed.
I told you to forget Felicity and head for the roof.
"Shut up." I sat down on a conveniently low gable and rested my chin in my hands. "Damn it! I've braved untold horrors and they don't even wait?"
'Untold horrors'? You saw a couple of corpses, and a monster eating them. OK, that is actually fairly horrific, but still, you're pathetic. You're about as manly as lip gloss.
"I thought I told you to shut up?"
Yeah, well, you told me you were in a coma.
"What?"
God, you are so freakin' pop-culturally illiterate!
I sighed. Somehow, I didn't care that much any more.
"All right." I paused. "What now? Won't the police come here soon?"
"They will," said a voice from the fog. "But I think I'd be more worried about your friend, because she's going to kill you."
And I looked round, and I saw two silhouettes in the mist, and one of them ran forwards and punched me in the eye.
"Ow!" I cried, half-falling off my gable. "What the hell?"
"That's for being an idiot," Sapphire said angrily. "And this one's for being an idiot
and late."
Her fist hit my other eye.
"Ow!"
See what I mean? Totally pathetic. You're being beaten up by a girl.
"What – I was saving someone's life!" I cried, getting up and raising my hands in a weak sort of defence. "I did catch her!" I held up the Ultra Ball.
"What's that in your other hand?" Sapphire asked; she must have already guessed, because I only had to look at it to realise that it was something that could only further her anger.
"Er... it might be your mobile?" I ventured.
Yeah, it is
pretty hard to tell through all the melted plastic.
"Did it look like that when I gave it to you?"
"I'm going to say, 'yes'?"
"Wrong answer. This one's for breaking my phone."
"I don't have a third eye— ow!"
I staggered back a step, clutching my midriff, and glared at her.
"Look, I went back in there, risking my life and seeing more corpses and horrible things than I ever wanted to see
ever, and all you can do is punch me? Just leave me alone, would you?"
Sapphire glared back.
"Why would you do that?" she snapped. "You're so stupid!"
"I promised I'd help her," I retorted. "You said you would too, if you think back to it."
All the fight seemed to go out of Sapphire at that moment; her face flickered through about twenty different expressions and then she stepped forwards and hugged me.
Ah! Puck cried.
It's happening again! Get it off, get it off!
I have to admit, my first reaction was one of fear too: I thought she was about to strangle me or something. It took me a full three seconds to realise what was going on, and to work out that what I ought to do was hug her back. Which I did, albeit really, really awkwardly – this was, after all, Sapphire Birch I was dealing with. The same Sapphire Birch who had been roundly abusing me for something like two weeks now.
"Don't ever do that again," Sapphire said quietly, looking up at me.
Hey, you're pretty tall, aren't you? Sorry, I just haven't really noticed before.
"Sorry," I said to Sapphire. "Um... can you let go now? You're kind of crushing me..."
"Oh. Sorry." Sapphire disentangled herself and stepped away hurriedly. She looked embarrassed, which made sense; I was fairly embarrassed, too.
"Are you two done?" asked the voice I'd first heard, and the second silhouette in the fog stepped forwards. To my surprise, I recognised them: it was Sid, formerly known as the lead druid.
"What – what are you doing here?" I asked.
Sid looked faintly uncomfortable.
"Well, I know you said you could handle this yourself, but..." He shrugged. "I don't know, it didn't feel right to leave a kid alone here. When Sapphire refused to leave without you, I said I'd stay and wait a bit more too. I couldn't keep the others. There were people on board who needed doctors. And some who needed undertakers."
"Oh." I didn't know what to say. Two people concerned for my welfare, and one of them Sapphire? This was a day to remember. "Thanks."
"You might want to save it for later," Sid said. "We need to get out of here. It's been about twenty-five minutes since the last fights ended, and you know what that means."
"The police," Sapphire replied. "They'll be here soon."
"Exactly." Sid nodded. "We don't want to be here when they get here."
Suddenly, I became aware of the sound of a helicopter; over the last few days, it had gone from being something I'd never heard before to something that happened every few minutes. A second later, a dark blue helicopter with the stylised skull-and-crossbones 'A' of Team Aqua painted on the side rose into view and sped off to the northeast.
"The Aquas are out of here," I said, staring after them. "Is there any other way off this island?"
"First, we need to get down to ground level," said Sid. "There're no more choppers up here."
We headed back to the roof exit, and as we walked Sapphire rummaged in her bag; she took out a Super Potion and gave it to me.
"Here," she said. "You don't look so good."
"
You're the one who gave me two black eyes."
"Do you want it or not?"
I took it and self-sprayed; as if by magic – which might actually have been how it worked – the pain melted away. Bruises vanished, cuts sealed and the chill in my bones disappeared.
I can tell that feels better. The chemical balance in your brain has changed. It was saying, 'Ouchies!' but now it's saying, 'Oh yeaaahh
.' Only not that cool, obviously, because it's your
brain.
We made our way back to the elevator on the fourth floor and Puck hacked it again so we could ride it down to ground level. Sid's eyes widened, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to avoid the big question much longer. I was right. As we were passing the second floor, he broached the topic.
"Er... what was your name again?"
"Kester. Kester Ruby."
"OK. Kester. Um... what – why do you – what's with this lightning stuff?"
I looked at Sapphire, who seemed surprised.
"I don't own you any more. It's your choice if you want to tell him."
Puck?
Eh, you're going to end up telling him anyway; why should I care?
"OK. Er... about two weeks ago, I crashed my Vespa into a car..."
I kept to the bare bones of the story and didn't reveal much about what Sapphire or I were actually doing; though Sid was undoubtedly one of the good guys – he had stayed to help us, after all – I didn't know how much control the Gorsedd had over its members, and I thought it would probably be best if they didn't know about it.
The story lasted until we reached the main hall of the first floor, where I petered out lamely and Sid said, after a suitable awed pause:
"Wow. I guess that means you're not a Psychic after all?"
"What? Why would I be a Psychic?"
"Sapphire told me you were."
We both looked at Sapphire, who shrugged defensively.
"What? He asked why you were sensitive to Ghosts, and I didn't want to give anything away."
"Fair enough," I replied.
"Damn," Sid said. "If you'd been a Psychic, I'd have been able to put my daughter in contact with you. She's a Psychic too, you see. Apparently it's lonely."
"Right." I thought back a week or so. "Is your daughter called Jaclyn, by any chance?"
Sid looked surprised.
"Yeah. How'd you know?"
"I think we met before. I beat her Abra on Route 110."
We came to the main entrance, and I could see the grassy mountainside through the open doorway; I sighed in relief. It would be great to get out of here, and leave this museum behind.
"Hurry up," urged Sapphire. "The police will be here any minute."
She was right, and we hurried on. No one wanted to get caught up in a police investigation; all three of us would have to face some pretty awkward questions.
About ten minutes later, we were back down at Mt. Pyre's main entrance, walking out towards the jetties. Through the spectral fog that lay thick over the waters, I could see the silhouettes of approaching boats, topped with flashing lights, and hear the distant wail of sirens.
"They're coming," I said unnecessarily. "Er – any way off this mountain, then?"
Sid looked around, as if hoping a ship or helicopter might conveniently materialise.
"Uh... doesn't look like it."
Steal a police boat.
"What?!"
Sid and Sapphire both stared at me.
"It's Puck," I explained. "He wants me to steal a police boat."
"That's probably going a little far," Sid said.
"Yeah," agreed Sapphire. "Definitely too far."
Aw. You're all losers.
The leading boat reached the pier, and a swarm of men and women in the uniforms of the Hoennian Police Force poured out. With a curse, Sid threw his machine-gun into the lake before they could ask any questions.
"Halt!" cried one. "This is the police...!"
---
"That... could have gone better."
Sid, Sapphire and I were sitting on the steps of one of the boathouses on the docks on the northern shore of the lake. Beyond us stretched a wharf that was utterly inconsequential in comparison to the one at Slateport, and behind us was a cluster of boathouses, ticket offices and ice-cream stands. We had just been thrown out of the police boat, and I use the phrase 'thrown out' advisedly – we were definitely not welcome by the time we left.
"Maybe if you hadn't tried to tell them about a secret plan cooked up by a sinister mastermind, they wouldn't have accused us of wasting police time," Sapphire said.
"But all that stuff in the museum – people are
dying, Sapphire! Something needs to be done—"
"Steven said he'd tell the League," Sapphire interrupted. "That's good enough for me."
"Uh, pardon me, but I'm getting really, really confused here," Sid put in. "I listened to everything you said back on the boat and all, but I still don't understand any of it. There's someone trying to get the Teams to fight each other...?"
"It's a long story," I said wearily; it was only half past one, but it had been a long day already, possibly the longest Tuesday of my life. "I wouldn't worry. You can forget all about it once you've got back to the Weather Institute."
"Yeah, about that..." Sid smiled uneasily. "Sorry, but you two kids will be coming back there with me."
Uh-oh. This doesn't look good. In fact, it looks downright bad. If only Banquo had had this feeling – he might have survived.
"What do you mean?" Sapphire's voice was level, but it had a threat in it. Her hand was on her belt, ready to snatch up a Poké Ball.
"I'm not threatening you," Sid assured us, holding up a hand. "Look, I've got no weapons. But you need to come with me. I don't really understand what you've been saying about this plot to make the Teams fight, but the druids need to hear this. The Orbs are our responsibility. We've looked after them for hundreds of years, and we thought they'd be safe in the museum."
They got that one wrong, then, Puck said.
Biggest mistake since The Matrix Reloaded
.
Was there a big mistake in that?
No. It was
a big mistake.
"What if we refuse?" Sapphire asked.
"Why would we refuse?" I asked her. "The druids are on our side, right?"
"I think so," Sid said. "If you want to put the Orbs back where they belong and stop the Teams fighting – or, worse, figuring out how to use them – then yes, we're all on the same side here. But we need to know more."
There was a long pause.
"All right," Sapphire said at last. "We'll go. But there's one condition."
"What is it?"
"Get some proper clothes," she said. "You're about as far from incognito as a Tyranitar in a shopping mall."
---
What do you do if you wake from impact-induced unconsciousness in a wrecked museum, with no idea how you got there?
If your name is Fabien Latch, you jump inadvisedly swiftly to your feet, look around for approaching enemies, and call wildly for your Crobat.
It will not have escaped the perceptive reader that Goishi has not figured prominently – or indeed at all – in the narrative since Fabien and Blake were knocked out. This is because he had sense, and had gone to ground as soon as he'd detected that Darren Goodwin's Miltank was likely to beat him up very soon. Now, as Fabien shouted his name, Goishi detached himself from a light fixture in the next room and flapped lazily in with an unconcerned
eek.
"Goishi!" cried Fabien. "Am I glad to see you!" He paused for a moment to catch his breath. "Something terrible has happened.
I have no idea where I am." He paused again, this time to let the full impact of what he'd just said sink in.
"Eek," replied Goishi, as equably as he could.
"Where are we?" Fabien asked.
"Eee-
eee-ee-
e-eeek," Goishi said. This probably meant something along the lines of: 'How in God's name am I supposed to tell you, you stupid little man?'
"The Slateport Oceanic Museum?" cried Fabien. "No! What devilry has brought us here? The last I remember, we were in Fallarbor!"
Goishi sighed and gritted his teeth, then remembered he couldn't, since he possessed only bottom ones.
"Blake!" Fabien knelt at his friend's side and gave him a good shaking. "Blake, wake up!"
Blake mumbled something, then sat up sharply, banging his head on Fabien's; the two Magmas recoiled sharply from each other.
"Blake, we're in the Oceanic Museum," hissed Fabien urgently, rubbing his forehead. "Can you remember why we're here?"
Blake's brow furrowed deeply.
"No," he said at length. "Last I remember, we were in Fallarbor."
"Damn," said Fabien. "I was hoping you'd remember." He gave Blake a hand up, and the two Magmas looked around. "Wait a minute," Fabien said. "Listen."
Blake did.
"Footsteps?"
"Footsteps," confirmed Fabien. "We should investigate – with extreme caution."
"Extreme caution?"
"Extreme caution." Fabien crept over to the nearest doorway and peeped around the edge; a second later, he jumped back, swearing.
"Wha' is it?" Blake asked. Fabien turned to him with a desperate look in his eye.
"It's the Aquas!" he cried. "Lots of them! Run!"
But before they had put more than a couple of yards between them and the door, the Aquas were there, and a mumbling, faux-American voice called out:
"Stop right there!"
Blake blanched.
"Cal," he whispered, stopping dead. "It's Archie."
"Don't worry," Fabien replied, "I just thought of something."
And he turned around and strolled over to the Aqua leader and his guards, ignoring their guns.
"Thank God," he said with feeling. "I thought you'd never get here, sir."
"Don't touch me, you grazhny red."
Fabien withdrew his hand hurriedly; it seemed patting Archie on the arm had been a bad idea.
"Right, sir. Deep Undercover Agents Fabien Latch and Blake Henderson, at your service."
Archie stared at him.
"Deep Undercover Agents?"
"Yes, sir." Fabien's grin never wavered. "Deep Undercover Agents."
"Do we have Deep Undercover Agents?" Archie asked of a nearby guard. The guard shrugged.
"You do, sir," Fabien said. "We're very deep undercover in Team Magma. So deep that only our immediate superior knows we exist."
"And who was your immediate superior?" asked Archie suspiciously.
A bead of sweat appeared on Fabien's forehead.
"I, um, only know his code name. It's... Battleship."
"James, do we have anyone called Battleship?" asked Archie of a different guard, who replied that he didn't know.
"Only the Clandestine Spying Operations Division use code names, sir," he said. "And that's basically one person, and he was one of the people we found near the back entrance."
"So he's dead?"
"Yes, sir."
"Battleship is dead?" exclaimed Fabien with melodramatic horror. "Egad! This is awful news. He had our report memorised for safekeeping!"
Archie stared at him, and then at Blake, who did his best to look sad.
"James," he said, "have these two killed."
---
Sid had wanted to go straight to the W.R.I., but Sapphire and I put our feet down there: we'd just had one of the worst mornings of either of our lives, and desperately needed food, rest, and – in my case – a new set of clothes, since the Felicity-thing's Ice Beam had ruined those I had on.
You get through those at a rate of knots, Puck remarked.
Like Daisy Fay, your voice is full of money; it's expensive to maintain you.
"I don't get references to classic American literature," I told him under my breath, as we waited on a bench at the train station; we were going to go to Fortree and recover for a while. If I hadn't been so tired, I might have been excited – Fortree was supposed to be amazing.
But you – I thought – never mind, he sighed.
I'm tired of pointing out the inconsistencies.
We attracted a great number of very strange looks on the train, and I supposed we were a pretty strange-looking trio: a still-damp, blood-spattered boy, a battered-looking girl (both with the remnants of handcuffs still around their wrists) and a man in dressed in bloodstained white robes. Now that I think about it, it was pretty clear why we were given such a wide berth.
After a couple of hours of north-northwesterly travel through a monotonous backdrop of green leaves and brown trunks, we stopped, seemingly in the middle of nowhere; I knew, however, that this station was actually right in the centre of Fortree.
It was just
underneath it all.
We got out in the face of a blast of humid jungle air, and managed to get into a crowded elevator on the way up. The shaft it travelled along had been cunningly disguised to look like a tree, but the fact that they'd used plastic for it kind of spoiled the image.
That's Fortree all over for you, Puck said.
Lovely idea, badly executed. Much like the French Revolution. More precisely, like the aristocracy in the French Revolution.
Then the elevator stopped and the doors opened – and Fortree lay before us.
It was a marvel of human ingenuity, a testament to the creativity and adaptability of our race; between the tops of the hardwood trees ran long wooden bridges, and in their branches nestled buildings, as if they were families of birds. Leaves and wood were everywhere, and the rich, heady scent of jungle flowers lay thickly over everything like dust in a long-abandoned library. I could see temples, houses, shops, even primitive skyscrapers, breaking through the treeline to rise triumphantly in silhouette against the bright sky. Fortree rose before us in green heaps and spires above wooden legs – and most remarkably of all, people were walking all around us, apparently without noticing that they lived in one of the most remarkable cities in the country.
Disgusting, pronounced Puck in ringing tones.
Utterly revolting. I mean, look at all this wood!
It's ridiculously organic. Where's the metal? Where's the plastic?
I told him he had no taste and followed Sid and Sapphire out of the lift.
Despite our drive to find a hotel in which to pass out for a while, it was impossible not to linger on the bridges, or pause in the broad, wooden squares; this city was a child's dream, the miracle treehouse that all of us imagine at some point in our lives. I know I did: there were about three trees in our garden, all of which were too small to even climb, so I felt the nonexistence of my dream treehouse especially keenly.
Somehow, we fought past our confused tourist instincts and reached a plaza dedicated to Trainers, where Sapphire checked in at the Pokémon Centre; about five minutes later, she came out again to accompany Sid and I while we found a hotel a couple of streets away. All the way, Puck protested vociferously that he had a soul of plastic and was dying inside from the lack of artificial materials.
I'm a ghost of the Y generation, he complained.
I need electricity to live, I need plastic to breathe, and I can't stand
to see all these people living in such close communion with nature. Gah! This place is like a poor man's Coruscant!
After we'd found accommodation, the next order of business was food; however, we were denied entry to every one we tried to enter, on account of how we looked like an assortment of lunatic homeless people. So Sapphire gave Sid and I a few thousand dollars and went back to the Pokémon Centre to change while we went and bought new clothes, an experience that, with Puck complaining and Sid reluctant, is perhaps best described by the word 'torturous'.
"I don't
need new clothes," Sid protested as we walked. "These robes are fine."
"They're stained with blood. You look like an escaped mental patient," I snapped.
"All right, I'll buy new robes—"
"
Normal clothes. The druids never leave the Weather Institute, do they?"
"The Weather
Research Institute," Sid corrected sulkily. "And no, I guess they don't."
"So what will people think when they see a guy walking around dressed as a druid?"
"That he's a druid?"
"Well, er, yeah, they might think that – or they'll think he's a madman. Either way, you attract too much attention."
"What is your obsession with staying incognito?" Sid asked, as we entered a clothes shop.
"For us, it's much the same thing as staying alive," I replied, which I thought was brilliantly witty.
It's not, Puck said bluntly, but I ignored him.
"In case you hadn't noticed, we're wanted by Team Aqua, Team Magma and the Devon Corporation," I told Sid. "It helps if we keep a low profile."
"Huh," said Sid, but he let me buy him new clothes; I guess the message got through.
Half an hour later, feeling even more tired but a whole lot better-presented, the three of us (four, if you included Puck) reconvened on the same street where the restaurants had earlier rejected us. The same establishments now welcomed us with open arms; there was something sinister about their sudden about-face, and I shivered as we chose one and went in.
That's what hobos feel like, I bet, Puck said.
You know, after they reform and get back into society.
Ignoring this pointless comment, I joined the others in eating; we had a window table, and therefore enjoyed a view of Fortree. This, in fact, could safely be called a spectacular view of Fortree, since all views of Fortree were spectacular, almost by definition.
I dunno. Everywhere looks much the same from inside a body bag.
Puck seemed to be in a particularly bad mood that afternoon; he kept making annoying comments throughout the meal, and indeed during the rest of the day. We went back to the hotel and the Pokémon Centre to rest after we'd eaten, but he didn't shut up; he was still talking when I fell asleep in a chair, telling me about the time he'd tried to assassinate the President of the Ealing Horticultural Society.
---
Status update...
Connecting to server...
Error: cannot connect.
"Blast!" Zero glared for a moment, and the problem resolved itself rather than face his wrath.
Connected successfully.
New variables identified.
Downloading 12%...55%...87%...
Download complete.
Calculating variables...
Results:
SUCCESS
WORLD DESTRUCTION INEVITABLE