> On the heels of the prior conversation with Elm, ask Vesta if she knows precisely what she is. But try not to be rude about the question. We don't want getting Vesta angry.
"Vesta," you say, trying a different angle of attack, "do you know what you are?"
You're 98% sure she won't be offended; she seems to regard pretty much everything you do as The Will Of The Gods.
Yes, she says, with all the eagerness of a schoolgirl that knows the right answer. I'm Vesta.
"Oh. Uh, thanks."
Not exactly what you were expecting, but you suppose that such philosophical abstracts as 'what are we?' may be slightly beyond a green bonfire who was born about a week ago.
> Ask Elm if he has anything to eat, or if he's just been living off cups of warm water with seaweed all this time.
Also, see if Elm knows where the rest of your stuff went. Ask him about the Bad Egg too, maybe he can help you figure out when it will hatch, and what it might hatch into- hopefully not including a massive even-more-world-ending glitch. If the Bad Egg has no chance of actually hatching into anything particularly useful, make an omelette. Ask Elm about the usefulness of prodding wild creatures with your Horrifically Dangerous Stabby Thing.
"What've you been living off all this time?" you ask Elm, changing the subject.
"Limpets, mostly," he said. "And seaweed, and fish. Mostly raw."
Ew. All right. That's not a meal you want to share.
"OK," you say, moving on again, "what do you know about this?"
You show him the Bad Egg, which he regards with some interest.
"That," he says, with singular accuracy, "is a Bad Egg."
"I know that much, but do you know what it might hatch into?"
He shrugs.
"Anything," he replies. "Could be any species of Pokémon at all, and even a few that don't actually exist. It could even hatch into another Egg."
It's as you thought, then: the Bad Egg is an unknown quantity. You suspect it will hatch just in time for a particularly climactic showdown; it's a plot thing.
You do not, however, ask Elm what stabbing things with the Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing will do. You already know exactly what it will do; it will kill them, if you can get it under their skin. Although that's what it would do to normal Pokémon; you're not sure about Eldritch things. Given what Elm's told you so far, you don't think he'd know either.
> Ask Elm what he has on his mind
"You said you had things on your mind," you remind Elm. "What were those things, exactly?"
He gives you the sort of look you usually reserve for someone who absent-mindedly defecates on your dining-table.
"What the hell do you think?" he asks, with a kind of shocked incredulity. "Life here isn't exactly easy, in case you hadn't noticed. Even without the damn monsters. And – and," he says, voice suddenly quietening, "I had a wife and a child, remember."
Memories snap across your head like whips: a young woman with brown hair, a smile, a laughing child. Something you thought was a little stone in the grass outside Elm's lab. You realise now that it was a tooth.
"Christ," you whisper.
Elm does not say anything.
"I'm sorry," you say, after a while.
"It was a long time ago," he replies. His cup of 'tea' is on the verge of falling from his fingers, but he doesn't seem to notice. "It's over now. They're not coming back."
You realise now exactly why it is that Elm doesn't think it matters if the world is saved or not. Whatever happens, however many people survive... his wife and child are not coming back.
That does sound like the sort of thing that would be on your mind.
> If my memory serves correctly, we picked up Elm's key we found in his abandoned laboratory. Perhaps Elm would like it back if Orthodox still has it on his person.
It takes a while for you to pluck up the courage to say anything, but when Elm seems calm again you broach the subject.
"Uh... I found this back in your lab," you say, taking the key from your pouch. "I don't know if you want it."
He glances at it.
"The key to my safe?" he asks. "Huh. No, thanks. It isn't much good to me now; the safe's in New Bark Town, if it's still there at all."
Damn, looks like you missed out on a prime looting opportunity there.
> See if he needs anything he hasn't been able to do himself maybe if you can do something he thought was impossible you can get him to be less of a debby downer. Tell him about the radar you 'borrowed' see if he can fix it, also inform him of the infinate space of your pouch. If at all possible try to convince him to let you check out his journal
> Ask about something you could do for him and as a return we could squeeze some info out of elm.
"Right," you say uncomfortably, pocketing the key again. "I found this as well. I guess it probably belongs to you."
You show him the Long-Range Scanner Attachment on your Pokedex, but he doesn't display much interest.
"Keep it," he replies. "I think it's probably more useful to you than to me, don't you think? There's only one Pokémon down here, and I already know what it is."
"OK, thanks. Uh... Is there any chance you could fix it?"
He locks a gimlet eye on you.
"You broke it?"
"Only a little bit. It works, but all the text comes through scrambled."
Elm sighs and takes the Pokedex from you; a minute later, he hands it back. Experimentally, you push the radar button, and the screen lights up:
Results:
One and a half (1.5) Pokémon found!
One (1) Eldritch Lugia found!
Half (0.5) an Eldritch Cyndaquil found!
OK, so Vesta seems to be confusing it a bit, but hey! It's working!
"Hey, you fixed it!" you cry happily. "How'd you manage that?"
"I turned it off and on again," he tells you. "Did you even think of that?"
You fall silent.
"I thought so," he says.
Eager to change the subject, you move on – not to the subject of the Pouch, which is pretty normal considering that everyone has a Bag like that, or to that of his journal, since it's almost certainly a mixture of raw grief at the loss of his family and interminably dull descriptions of prising limpets off rocks, but to the subject of quests. Specifically, if he has any for you.
"Right," you say. "Well, uh, is there anything that needs doing around here? I mean... anything I could do for you?"
He gives you a look.
"Why?"
"Well, I don't know. For a reward?" you hazard. "For information? For being guided to the surface where the helicopter is?"
"I've told you everything I know," he says. "And, well, I have nothing to reward you with."
"Except showing me up to where the helicopter is," you remind him.
"Yes. I'm not too keen on that one, you know." He scratches his head. "Given that 'up', over the last few years, has been quite strongly associated with 'death by monster'."
"Vesta and I will protect you," you tell him. "We just need a guide. Right, Vesta?"
Yes, she agrees. We can do it!
"Yeah," you say. "I have a gnarled Beedrill stinger on a stick, you know. It's still poisonous; I can poke the hell out of anything that comes at you, and then Vesta will burn them."
Elm stares.
"Jesus Christ," he says. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
He shakes his head.
"Never mind. Look, Othodox, I don't think—"
"Remember," you tell him, "I came here all the way from the house next to yours in New Bark Town. I've survived most of Johto to get here. If anyone can get you up there safely, then it's probably me."
Elm frowns.
"I see... yes, but how do I get back? If the helicopter is still functional – which is highly unlikely, I tell you – then you'll leave and I'll be stuck up there, on my own."
"Then come with us," you say. "We're heading south to Cianwood at the moment to follow up a lead we got on what happened to the world. And we could always use some help."
Yes, agrees Vesta. A band of fearsome warriors, burning all in their path!
Both you and Elm turn to stare at her, and she gives off a puff or two of apologetic smoke.
What?
"Nothing, Vesta," you say uncertainly, remembering the fearsome creature she was birthed from and belatedly wondering if she's inherited any of her father's more violent character traits. "Nothing... Anyway. Elm. What do you say?"
"I don't know," he replies. "I need – I need time. Do you know how long I've been down here? Five years, according to the clock... it's – I need some time, I need to—"
Abruptly he gets up and walks out, throwing the fibreglass wall aside; you make no attempt to follow. Let him work this out for himself.
You wait.
After a time, Elm comes back. There does not appear to be very much different about him – there are no signs of tears, no emotions visibly struggling on his face. He's not obeying any of the standard movie clichés, which, perhaps because of the metafictional nature of your existence, annoys you slightly on an ontological level. However, you are not a philosopher, and are thus able to put this from your mind with the minimum of fuss.
"First," he says, "you tell me everything you know. Everything that's happened, and everything you've done. Everything that you've learned. Then I'll tell you if I'm coming or not."
All right. You can do that – and you do, from the start in New Bark to the end in the storm on Route 41. Elm takes notes carefully on a laptop, and by the end has compiled them into a list of questions that you only wish you had the academic rigour to come up with earlier.
"You said that voice on the Pokégear told you that 'a smell of petroleum pervades throughout'. So did the Ghosts, through Morty. The only thing is, that's not the line – the line goes 'prevails', not 'pervades'."
"So? I misremembered it, then."
"The player character never misremembers," he tells you. "You have perfect recall, except when the plot calls for it." He pauses for a moment. "Say the line for me."
"A smell of petroleum pervades throughout." You blink in surprise. "No, that's not right. It's A smell of petroleum pervades through— what the hell?"
Elm nods sagaciously; he seems to be really getting into this.
"You can't say it correctly," he says. "Interesting. Let me see... The difference is a matter of letters..." He starts. "Letters. That could mean... These shrivelled black things," he says abruptly. "Have you attempted to identify them in any way other than visual analysis?"
"Uh, no, but how—?"
"Did you scan them with the Pokédex at all? They're obviously not a normal animal, so perhaps they're a dead Pokémon of some sort."
You gape. Why didn't you think of that?
No, seriously. Why didn't you?
Elm rolls his eyes and snatches one off you; he turns it over in his hands, and then gives a grunt of surprise.
"I see," he said. "Look at that."
He holds it out to you, peeling back two flaps of skin in the middle to reveal a shrunken, desiccated eyeball.
"It's a dead Unown," he tells you. "Shrivelled up from exposure; they're basically full of psychic energy, and it dissipates on death to leave them wrinkled like this."
"A dead Unown?" you ask, puzzled. "But they can't stop time, can they?"
"No," he replies. "But something about what that Gengar said to you, and the way someone seems to have been trying to give you hints about the relevance of letters – i.e. Unown – by the misquotation..." Elm strokes his chin thoughtfully. "I'll get back to you on that one. It needs just a little more thought."
"OK..." Your head is spinning. Has the Narrator actually been trying to help you? Admittedly he's gone about doing so in the most cryptic way you could imagine, by scattering dead Unown around and misquoting a line about the nature of the universe, but he has left you a clue – and with Elm's superior Pokézoological knowledge, you might just be able to solve it. At last.
"Another thing," he said. "This 'starter Pokémon' business. If they come after you no matter what, why didn't Jasmine, or the person you thought was Jasmine, have one?"
"I guess it was probably the Steelix," you reply after a while. "It ate her and thought she was dead, so it left her alone. I don't know. That's my guess."
Elm nods.
"I thought so, but I wanted to see if you would think the same way... in that case, there might be a way to get that Quilava off your back. That doesn't," he adds hastily, "involve you being eaten alive. I just need to think about it..."
"That would be fantastic," you reply, thinking of how many deus ex machina moments you've had to pull to get away from that fiery bastard.
Yes, agrees Vesta. It's Othodox's nemesis.
She seems very proud of this word – it's quite a long one – and she repeats it happily to herself for a while, just to show it wasn't a one-off.
Nemesis... nemesis... nemesis...
"Speaking of which," you say to Elm, "isn't there a starter Pokémon waiting for you out there somewhere?"
"I imagine it doesn't want to come down here," he replies. "What with Lugia and all. It may not even be on this island – or perhaps it's been killed and eaten by another Pokémon." He shrugs. "We won't know until we leave."
You raise an eyebrow.
"'Until we leave'? You're coming, then?"
"Five years is far too long to have been sitting around in a cave," Elm tells you abruptly. "The rules of biology and physics have changed entirely, and someone really needs to start applying some scientific analysis to this situation. Everything seems irrational, but I'm sure there must be some underlying logic..." He catches himself hurriedly. "Well," he says, looking slightly embarrassed. "What I mean is... yes. I'm coming."
You grin. This is the best news you've had since you've got here. Allies. Now, if you could somehow recruit Jasmine and Falkner too, you'd have a small army at your disposal, ready to take on any Eldrich Pokémon that dares cross your—
OK, perhaps that's wishful thinking. But still, you have Elm, and he's probably the most useful thing you could wish for right now.
Against all odds, you actually seem to be doing pretty well.
(Once Othodox has left the Whirl Islands, he will not be able to return. If there is anything left to do here, make sure to do it now.)