Anima Ex Machina, One: Pokémon
Title: Anima Ex Machina
Chapter: One: It's a pleasure to meet you.
Fandom: Pokémon
Characters/Pairings: Bill, Professor Oak, OCs
Genre: Sci-fi/suspense/gen
Rating: R (graphic violence)
Summary: In which we meet our hero (that poor bastard).
Author's Notes: If you've read earlier versions of this chapter, let it be known that I edited the crap out of it. And that'll probably be true for other chapters too, so... yeah. There might just be new content floating around.
Polaris Institute existed before Project Stardust, but back then it mostly centered around technology, rather than the direct study of pokémon. However, when two mysterious pokémon suddenly appeared around the crash site of a fallen meteor in Hoenn, the government took an interest at once. Their interest - or, rather, panic - only grew when it was discovered that humans and native pokémon were disappearing at an alarming rate within the new creatures' territories. As a result, the government scrambled to commandeer one research facility in each region besides Hoenn, including Polaris Institute of Kanto. The best of the best in the Pokémon Symposium, the elite community of pokéologists across the country, were hand-picked by each center to lend their skills to the government in a time of desperation. Thus, their efforts became Project Stardust, the project geared towards studying the creature that threatened an entire region.
Ten months had passed since that day when each member of Polaris's team gathered to the circular citadel on Seafoam Island. Nine months had passed since an armored car rolled past the gates to deliver a metal box.
The box had since been removed, but the thing that was formerly within it now lived in the very heart of the institute, a circular building just beyond the two rings that made up the staff's living quarters. Even here, past the two outer layers with their own complicated systems of locks and gates, security remained absurdly tight. The corridors weaved inside the building like a giant, white maze of linoleum and sterilized air. Doors were thick, metal beasts with small signs next to them to tell them apart. High-tech security cameras hung above each door, their glass lenses sending scrutinizing gazes at heads of each passerby.
The locks were even more complex. Key card, thumbprint, iris: those were the keys to unlock every door in the inner chambers of Polaris Institute. It was of the utmost importance that the thing inside remained completely removed from the outside world - as opposed to keeping the people outside from getting inside, as most locks tend to do.
Outside one of the doors, a key card slipped through the slot on the side of the lock, and a pale thumb pressed against the silver thumb pad. Lights blinked while the panel above the thumb pad slipped upward to reveal a camera. Hands pulled back green, wavy hair as a heart-shaped face leaned forward. A red beam flashed from the lens and trailed down one dark eye before vanishing. Once the light faded, the man in front of the scanner straightened, his hands working their way into the pockets of his lab coat as he waited.
A female, computerized voice finally broke the silence of the hallway. "Identity confirmed. Welcome, Professor McKenzie."
The door slid open, and the figure stepped into a room full of machinery.
Even though he looked too young to have graduated from high school, the truth was that Professor William McKenzie had established himself in the scientific community years before joining Polaris's team. That was half of the reason why the Symposium was so intrigued by him. By the time he had received his title - four years ago, shortly before he first met Ash Ketchum - he had written no fewer than six papers and one book on the subject of ancient pokémon behavior, and all of his work presented ideas that practically solved a number of mysteries in the field of paleo-pokéology. Even more extraordinary was the fact that the first of those papers had been published when he was only a senior in his undergraduate career. Because he was twelve at the time.
That alone would have garnered him plenty of attention from the Symposium, but he hardly stopped there. Borrowing concepts from Dr. Minoru Akihabara, the mastermind behind the Pokémon Transfer System, Professor McKenzie had teamed up with an equally young programmer and pokéologist from Hoenn to invent a device that would quickly revolutionize pokémon training as people knew it then. It was simple in its concept: take Akihabara's system and remove the necessity for having a home point - a place where pokémon would need to be kept in a physical form. In its place, McKenzie and his partner, Professor Lanette Chastain, had developed a means of storing pokémon digitally, in a secure online database that could be accessed by users at any time from any place that had a computer. They called it the PC Pokémon Storage System, but many globe-trotting trainers called it a godsend. While a number of people still used Akihabara's subsequently obsolete system, the fact that the two programmers had had developed a means of storing pokémon safely and securely in what was essentially suspended animation for extended periods of time had netted them both places in the Pokémon Symposium.
But Professor McKenzie hated titles and credentials, and he felt embarrassed when other people flaunted his track record for him. It was too formal for his tastes; he didn't want to be thought of as someone on the same level as Professors Rowan, Elm, Birch, Juniper, and others. He knew he had more than enough to learn about his own field, so he shied away from comparing himself to them. For this reason, he insisted on being known by a less formal name, a name he had picked up in college: Bill.
He had hoped it would make people feel more comfortable around him, but of course, there were still many people who objected to his inclusion in the Symposium. Some researchers felt his method of using costumes to emulate pokémon was making light of pokéology, as if he was mocking the field or refusing to take it seriously. Others said that he was too inexperienced, that his techniques kept him from learning how to work with real pokémon, and that by divorcing himself from his subjects that much, he risked losing the sense of empathy every pokéologist possessed when working with pokémon. The controversy nearly caused the Japanese government to skip over him in recruiting researchers for Project Stardust, but luckily for him he had one powerful backer.
"Good morning, Bill!"
Bill lifted his eyes towards the end of the room, past the rows of humming machines. A window spread across the far side, creating a deep, white indentation in the wall, and by one end of it stood an old man with near-black eyes. Professor Oak's wrinkled face drew into a wide grin as he motioned for Bill to come forward. With a small nod, Bill took a few more steps into the laboratory, but before he could go any further, another voice rose from the side.
"McKenzie!" A woman turned fully from the machinery at the side of the room to address him. "Do you realize what time it is?"
At once, Bill cringed, taking a step back towards the door. He wasn't normally shy around his fellow scientists, but Professor Yvonne Nettle, one of those Symposium members who didn't exactly support him wholeheartedly, had that sort of effect on almost everyone. Behind a pair of oval-framed glasses, her hazel eyes flashed angrily at Bill. Her oval face contracted into a deep frown as she crossed her thin arms. In many ways, her entire being reminded Bill of fragments of glass: the smaller and thinner they were, the more someone had to worry about crossing them.
"Yes, Professor," he finally replied. "Half past ten in the morning."
The long fingers of her right hand began to drum on her left elbow. "When were you scheduled to arrive here?"
Bill paused, swallowing hard. "Half past... ten?"
"Yes." Nettle narrowed her eyes. "And what time is it now?"
Right then, Bill's blood felt cold in his veins. What time? Wasn't it half past ten? Reaching into the pocket of his lab coat, Bill pulled out a silver pocket watch. He pressed his lips together and found himself trembling slightly as he glanced at its face. The hour hand was almost to eleven, but the minute hand sat comfortably between the eight and nine. Immediately, the color drained from his cheeks, and he found he couldn't speak. How could he have lost track of that much time?
Nettle, meanwhile, knitted her eyebrows and set her jaw.
"McKenzie," she said. Her voice lowered in volume, but it was still winter-cold. "If you wish to be a fully recognized pokémon researcher, then you should learn that punctuality and professionalism in the laboratory-"
Oak stepped forward. "Excuse me, Professor Nettle."
Immediately, Nettle stopped and looked at her superior. Her eyebrows rose at Oak's sudden interruption.
"Don't be too hard on him," Oak said. "After all, a real researcher is never late."
Nettle's expression softened slightly. "With all due respect, Professor Oak, that's exactly my point. A real researcher is always on time, which is why McKenzie should be taught to arrive promptly, when he promised to arrive."
Oak smiled. "All I mean is that a researcher is never late because he arrives precisely when he means to."
"Given that we're working for the government, surely we should take into consideration a strict schedule."
"Ah." Oak nodded. "Considering the government, yes, I think we should consider the time he arrived compared to when he was scheduled to work here."
Nettle suppressed a smile as she turned her attention back towards Bill. Her subordinate cringed again. He knew the worst part of his day was just about to begin.
"And in that case, we should consider the fact that Bill was actually on time then too," Oak added.
Nettle turned her head sharply towards Oak. "I'm sorry?"
Even Bill had to send his superiors an odd expression. After all, his watch was in perfect working condition. He made sure of that. It was his mental clock that needed adjusting.
Oak took off his watch and offered it to Nettle with a firm nod. "Absolutely. Check my watch if you'd like."
Without a word, Nettle reached for the leather strap of the watch. Her mouth opened slightly as she examined the face. On it, the hour hand pointed towards the eleven, but the minute hand nestled itself between six and seven. If it was correct, then Bill would have arrived shortly before 10:30 in order to endure the conversation until the minute hand ticked to 10:31. Realizing this, Nettle handed Oak his watch.
"Maybe your watch is a few minutes fast," Oak said with a shrug as he put his watch back on. "You should be careful about that, Professor Nettle. You know how the other teams feel about interruptions, and I'd hate to break up another argument if you go back to Laboratory F to find the biochemistry team still there, especially when we're getting along so well today."
"Right," Nettle said with a slow nod. "Right then."
She glared at Bill. He still appeared heavily confused, and that expression alone tried Nettle's patience. Nonetheless, she hid that fact well.
"McKenzie, I'll assume you've been briefed about Experiment #22a already. Prepare to record observations."
Leaving it at that, she turned and walked briskly to the other side of the room. Bill watched her lean over someone else to check a computer screen.
"You can relax now," Oak said. "She'll go easy on you for this experiment."
At Oak's consent, Bill exhaled a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. "Professor... thank you. You lied for me."
Oak pulled up his sleeve to examine his watch. With his large fingers, he pulled out the pin in its side and twisted the head to turn the hands back to their original positions.
"Eh, I should have known you would notice. Luckily for you, Professor Nettle didn't." He pushed the pin back in. "Bill, I know you don't mean to do it, but please, for your sake, try not to get Professor Nettle worked up again. It'd help to keep the peace between you and your teammates when I can't step in myself."
Bill lowered his head. He felt the heat of a blush cross his cheeks. "I understand."
"It's different, working in a team compared to working freelance, especially if the laboratory is government or corporation-owned and operated, and I want you to realize that. As harsh as she may seem to you, Professor Nettle is right. There are certain rules you need to follow in order to work well with the rest of your team."
Inside, Bill felt himself flinch. It was one thing to be scolded by Professor Nettle, an individual who was perpetually in a sour mood, but it was a different thing altogether to be scolded by Professor Samuel Oak. For one, Oak rarely felt the need to reprimand his colleagues and subordinates, although his typically jovial personality was slowly being worn away by the stress that came with his position as Polaris's director for the duration of Project Stardust. For another, even without that title, Oak was the foremost figure in the field of pokéology aside from Professor Rowan. To receive praise from Oak was the ultimate affirmation for a pokémon researcher. To receive criticism meant that one had a long way to go.
"Yes, professor," Bill said after a long pause.
Sensing the youth's discomfort, Oak's stern face cracked into a warm smile. "You'll learn," Oak assured him. "Ah, the innocence of youth. It reminds me of a poem, actually. Would you like-"
Bill couldn't decide whether it was a relief or impending doom that Nettle's voice suddenly interrupted.
"Excuse me, Professor Oak," she said. She stood stiffly a few feet away, and her voice was strained, as if she was struggling to keep the sharpness out of her words. "With all due respect, we need McKenzie at his station now."
Oak's smile grew, and without warning, he tilted back on his feet to laugh. His deep, rumbling voice bubbled over every other noise in the laboratory. A few of the other scientists even looked up to watch him close his eyes and rub the back of his neck.
"Oh yes! I'm sorry. You're absolutely right." He opened his eyes and glanced towards his protégé. "Well, Bill, go on! Work hard for Hoenn's sake! I don't expect anything less than excellence from you."
The director probably didn't realize it, but Bill had definitely heard that line of encouragement before, uttered to another researcher who felt the cold, hard snap of Professor Nettle's voice. Nonetheless, Oak's smile and tone were enough to let Bill ease from humiliation-born anxiety to a slightly more comfortable zone. He responded with his own smile - albeit a somewhat more timid one - and nodded.
"Right. Thank you, professor."
He walked briskly to his station in a corner of the laboratory. Oak stood back, smiling as he waited for the experiment to begin. Professor Nettle, meanwhile, harbored a far icier expression on her face as she glared directly at the window in front of her and clenched her teeth at the sound of Oak's tone towards Bill.
Even the other members of the psychology-ethology team couldn't quite understand how Nettle became their leader. Granted, she was nearing fifty and had almost as many awards and degrees as she did years on Earth, but it was widely known throughout the complex that she simply wasn't leadership material. A lot of it had to do with the way she treated people. She had previously been a field researcher, known mostly for her endeavors to understand jynx communication patterns, and she was more used to handling ice-types than humans thanks to her years of isolation in the frozen north. Bill wasn't the only one who noticed she lacked much in the way of mercy; it was a whispered joke that she could relate more to the jynx than any human being. She was cold. She was relentless. She demanded perfection from her colleagues as if she didn't expect a single one of them to be capable of delivering.
"McKenzie?" she said sharply as she looked away from the window.
Bill recoiled as he settled at his station across the room. The observational deck of Laboratory D was just large enough for the five scientists working on the psychology aspect of Kanto's Project Stardust, yet with Nettle so close by, Bill felt just a little awkward being there, as if the space was smaller than it actually was. He turned towards Nettle and tried to look as professional as possible.
"Yes, Professor Nettle?" he asked.
She eyed him with a serious, nearly suspicious gaze. "Are you ready?"
Turning back to his station, Bill placed his hands on the keyboard of the computer in front of him. With a few quick key strokes, he brought the machine back to life, and a few more let him through its digital security system. The black screen was quickly replaced by a desktop sparsely populated with icons. Bill ignored most of these graphics as he keyed in a few more commands to fill the screen with two boxes. One was a blank document, and the other was a box with a video feed of an open, white room. In the middle of the room were two clear boxes: one of them held a purple and white rat pawing at the sides of its cage, while the other...
He tried not to think about it as he switched to the blank document.
"I'm ready, professor," he finally said.
Nettle nodded. "Very well." She turned away from him. "Professor Fig, stand by for release. Everyone else, this will be Experiment #22a: Hunting Tactics of XP-650. Are you ready?"
All four of her colleagues promptly replied, "Yes, professor."
"Good." She nodded. "Open both of the doors, Professor Fig."
Fig turned his bright blue eyes towards a large console at his work station. His large hand rose and hit the smooth face of a red button with a fleshy palm.
"Doors released," he said as he slowly turned back to his monitor.
Nettle touched her chin as she watched through the window at the far end of the laboratory. Beyond it was the exact same thing Bill was seeing on his computer screen: a large, open room with solid, white walls and a concrete floor. Sitting in the middle of the room were the very same boxes.
One side on each respective cube swung outward, and the cautious rattata in the first box was the first to move. He crawled into the open, twitching his long whiskers as he blinked at the strange creature in the other box. The creature clacked its numerous legs to pull itself forward from Plexiglas onto concrete. It had no eyes, yet it seemed to be staring at the rattata. A cold feeling settled in the prey's heart as he crept towards his left with his own eyes fixed on the red creature.
Suddenly, the thing leapt at him. With a screech, the rattata lunged towards the open space to the side. His paws scrambled desperately as his small heart beat against his chest in the mad dash for safety. Yet even with his speed, he felt the searing pain of eight small, sharp needles planting themselves into the flesh of his shoulder. He screamed again, and his eyes widened at the bulbous creature resting on his body. His legs still pounded in a frantic, tumbling run as something slid under his skin and sucked on his veins. No matter what he did, including bashing his shoulder into the cement, the creature refused to let go.
Thanks to rapid blood loss, the rattata's movements became sluggish, eventually slowing to the point where he could only stumble inch by inch towards his box. He didn't make it all the way back to the Plexiglas cube; just before his paws could drag him inside, he collapsed and closed his eyes.
"Dear God," Nettle whispered. "How long was that?"
"Two minutes, forty-seven seconds," Fig recited.
Bill's fingers clacked on the keyboard to record the number. Then, he glanced at the video feed on his monitor again. Curiosity got the best of him, and he tapped his mouse over and clicked a button to zoom in. He had hoped to get a better view of what the parasite was doing, but instead, a strange feeling settled in his stomach. Right away, he felt his face blanch. He wanted to turn away, but he couldn't stop himself from watching the flickering image of the creature consuming the rattata from the inside out. Gradually, it crawled up the rodent's side, ripping the flesh as it went until the ribs and the slick insides were exposed. Bill had seen a vast number of different things since he became a pokémon researcher, but he had never seen a pokémon consume live prey with such clean efficiency. Not a drop of blood was spilled, and the alien cut through skin with the deftness of a surgeon.
Already feeling lightheaded, Bill covered his mouth with a hand, but he still couldn't tear his eyes away from the creature. When it began to ooze a luminescent, green gel into the wound, Bill leaned back in his chair and shuddered, catching Oak's attention again.
"Bill?" he murmured.
Taking a breath, Bill pushed away from his station and stood.
"Excuse me for a moment," he said quietly.
Without any further explanation, Bill quickly walked out of the room.
---
"Stop it."
Bill hunched over the sink in a bathroom down the hall. Moving his hands beneath the silver faucet, he watched the red sensor blink and beep. Cold water sprayed over his hands and into the granite basin beneath them. Cupping his hands, he caught enough water to splash his face before grabbing a paper towel from a small pile next to the sink. With the towel pressed against his skin, he straightened his back and took a few more deep breaths. Slowly, he peered over the edge of the paper, catching sight of his reflection in the mirror that occupied the wall space above the sinks. Despite everything he did to calm himself, he still looked paler than usual.
Sighing, he crumpled the paper towel and tossed it into a garbage can by the door in the corner. Then, he turned back to the mirror and placed his hands on both sides of the sink.
"You're a trained researcher," he said to himself. "You've been studying pokémon for years. Why are you having this reaction now? Is it any different from watching a scyther hunt?"
His mind wandered back to the images he saw on his computer. He thought about the creature slicing open the rattata, about the sight of the rat's innards, about the green gel oozing into the wound.
A queasy feeling churned his stomach, and he doubled over to gag into the sink. It took a good portion of his will not to throw up; instead, he coughed and took a few gasps of air. After a few moments of this, he shook his head and looked up to stare at his reflection again.
"All right. Perhaps it is," he murmured. "But haven't you seen worse? How many years have you worked on the field, and why are you reacting like this now?"
He shut his eyes tightly and shook his head for a second time. Gingerly, he straightened his back once more.
"Right. You need to do this, Bill. It's why you're here."
Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and looked at his reflection again. Already, color was beginning to come back to his cheeks.
"There. That's it. Just remember, what can possibly go wrong? You're doing this as a scientist. There's no reason to be afraid of it."
Nodding, he smiled at himself and turned towards the door.
"Nearly fainting at a pokémon's hunting behavior. Honestly, Bill, what kind of researcher are you?"
Pulling open the door, he took a deep breath, kept his eyes on the floor, and began walking out of the bathroom under the assumption he was alone. After all, it was during lab hours. Most personnel were normally occupied in one room or another.
Except, apparently, for the three fairly large lab assistants who suddenly grabbed him as soon as he took his first step into the hallway.
This entry was cross-posted from http://mercoledi.dreamwidth.org/103838.html.
Chapter: One: It's a pleasure to meet you.
Fandom: Pokémon
Characters/Pairings: Bill, Professor Oak, OCs
Genre: Sci-fi/suspense/gen
Rating: R (graphic violence)
Summary: In which we meet our hero (that poor bastard).
Author's Notes: If you've read earlier versions of this chapter, let it be known that I edited the crap out of it. And that'll probably be true for other chapters too, so... yeah. There might just be new content floating around.
Polaris Institute existed before Project Stardust, but back then it mostly centered around technology, rather than the direct study of pokémon. However, when two mysterious pokémon suddenly appeared around the crash site of a fallen meteor in Hoenn, the government took an interest at once. Their interest - or, rather, panic - only grew when it was discovered that humans and native pokémon were disappearing at an alarming rate within the new creatures' territories. As a result, the government scrambled to commandeer one research facility in each region besides Hoenn, including Polaris Institute of Kanto. The best of the best in the Pokémon Symposium, the elite community of pokéologists across the country, were hand-picked by each center to lend their skills to the government in a time of desperation. Thus, their efforts became Project Stardust, the project geared towards studying the creature that threatened an entire region.
Ten months had passed since that day when each member of Polaris's team gathered to the circular citadel on Seafoam Island. Nine months had passed since an armored car rolled past the gates to deliver a metal box.
The box had since been removed, but the thing that was formerly within it now lived in the very heart of the institute, a circular building just beyond the two rings that made up the staff's living quarters. Even here, past the two outer layers with their own complicated systems of locks and gates, security remained absurdly tight. The corridors weaved inside the building like a giant, white maze of linoleum and sterilized air. Doors were thick, metal beasts with small signs next to them to tell them apart. High-tech security cameras hung above each door, their glass lenses sending scrutinizing gazes at heads of each passerby.
The locks were even more complex. Key card, thumbprint, iris: those were the keys to unlock every door in the inner chambers of Polaris Institute. It was of the utmost importance that the thing inside remained completely removed from the outside world - as opposed to keeping the people outside from getting inside, as most locks tend to do.
Outside one of the doors, a key card slipped through the slot on the side of the lock, and a pale thumb pressed against the silver thumb pad. Lights blinked while the panel above the thumb pad slipped upward to reveal a camera. Hands pulled back green, wavy hair as a heart-shaped face leaned forward. A red beam flashed from the lens and trailed down one dark eye before vanishing. Once the light faded, the man in front of the scanner straightened, his hands working their way into the pockets of his lab coat as he waited.
A female, computerized voice finally broke the silence of the hallway. "Identity confirmed. Welcome, Professor McKenzie."
The door slid open, and the figure stepped into a room full of machinery.
Even though he looked too young to have graduated from high school, the truth was that Professor William McKenzie had established himself in the scientific community years before joining Polaris's team. That was half of the reason why the Symposium was so intrigued by him. By the time he had received his title - four years ago, shortly before he first met Ash Ketchum - he had written no fewer than six papers and one book on the subject of ancient pokémon behavior, and all of his work presented ideas that practically solved a number of mysteries in the field of paleo-pokéology. Even more extraordinary was the fact that the first of those papers had been published when he was only a senior in his undergraduate career. Because he was twelve at the time.
That alone would have garnered him plenty of attention from the Symposium, but he hardly stopped there. Borrowing concepts from Dr. Minoru Akihabara, the mastermind behind the Pokémon Transfer System, Professor McKenzie had teamed up with an equally young programmer and pokéologist from Hoenn to invent a device that would quickly revolutionize pokémon training as people knew it then. It was simple in its concept: take Akihabara's system and remove the necessity for having a home point - a place where pokémon would need to be kept in a physical form. In its place, McKenzie and his partner, Professor Lanette Chastain, had developed a means of storing pokémon digitally, in a secure online database that could be accessed by users at any time from any place that had a computer. They called it the PC Pokémon Storage System, but many globe-trotting trainers called it a godsend. While a number of people still used Akihabara's subsequently obsolete system, the fact that the two programmers had had developed a means of storing pokémon safely and securely in what was essentially suspended animation for extended periods of time had netted them both places in the Pokémon Symposium.
But Professor McKenzie hated titles and credentials, and he felt embarrassed when other people flaunted his track record for him. It was too formal for his tastes; he didn't want to be thought of as someone on the same level as Professors Rowan, Elm, Birch, Juniper, and others. He knew he had more than enough to learn about his own field, so he shied away from comparing himself to them. For this reason, he insisted on being known by a less formal name, a name he had picked up in college: Bill.
He had hoped it would make people feel more comfortable around him, but of course, there were still many people who objected to his inclusion in the Symposium. Some researchers felt his method of using costumes to emulate pokémon was making light of pokéology, as if he was mocking the field or refusing to take it seriously. Others said that he was too inexperienced, that his techniques kept him from learning how to work with real pokémon, and that by divorcing himself from his subjects that much, he risked losing the sense of empathy every pokéologist possessed when working with pokémon. The controversy nearly caused the Japanese government to skip over him in recruiting researchers for Project Stardust, but luckily for him he had one powerful backer.
"Good morning, Bill!"
Bill lifted his eyes towards the end of the room, past the rows of humming machines. A window spread across the far side, creating a deep, white indentation in the wall, and by one end of it stood an old man with near-black eyes. Professor Oak's wrinkled face drew into a wide grin as he motioned for Bill to come forward. With a small nod, Bill took a few more steps into the laboratory, but before he could go any further, another voice rose from the side.
"McKenzie!" A woman turned fully from the machinery at the side of the room to address him. "Do you realize what time it is?"
At once, Bill cringed, taking a step back towards the door. He wasn't normally shy around his fellow scientists, but Professor Yvonne Nettle, one of those Symposium members who didn't exactly support him wholeheartedly, had that sort of effect on almost everyone. Behind a pair of oval-framed glasses, her hazel eyes flashed angrily at Bill. Her oval face contracted into a deep frown as she crossed her thin arms. In many ways, her entire being reminded Bill of fragments of glass: the smaller and thinner they were, the more someone had to worry about crossing them.
"Yes, Professor," he finally replied. "Half past ten in the morning."
The long fingers of her right hand began to drum on her left elbow. "When were you scheduled to arrive here?"
Bill paused, swallowing hard. "Half past... ten?"
"Yes." Nettle narrowed her eyes. "And what time is it now?"
Right then, Bill's blood felt cold in his veins. What time? Wasn't it half past ten? Reaching into the pocket of his lab coat, Bill pulled out a silver pocket watch. He pressed his lips together and found himself trembling slightly as he glanced at its face. The hour hand was almost to eleven, but the minute hand sat comfortably between the eight and nine. Immediately, the color drained from his cheeks, and he found he couldn't speak. How could he have lost track of that much time?
Nettle, meanwhile, knitted her eyebrows and set her jaw.
"McKenzie," she said. Her voice lowered in volume, but it was still winter-cold. "If you wish to be a fully recognized pokémon researcher, then you should learn that punctuality and professionalism in the laboratory-"
Oak stepped forward. "Excuse me, Professor Nettle."
Immediately, Nettle stopped and looked at her superior. Her eyebrows rose at Oak's sudden interruption.
"Don't be too hard on him," Oak said. "After all, a real researcher is never late."
Nettle's expression softened slightly. "With all due respect, Professor Oak, that's exactly my point. A real researcher is always on time, which is why McKenzie should be taught to arrive promptly, when he promised to arrive."
Oak smiled. "All I mean is that a researcher is never late because he arrives precisely when he means to."
"Given that we're working for the government, surely we should take into consideration a strict schedule."
"Ah." Oak nodded. "Considering the government, yes, I think we should consider the time he arrived compared to when he was scheduled to work here."
Nettle suppressed a smile as she turned her attention back towards Bill. Her subordinate cringed again. He knew the worst part of his day was just about to begin.
"And in that case, we should consider the fact that Bill was actually on time then too," Oak added.
Nettle turned her head sharply towards Oak. "I'm sorry?"
Even Bill had to send his superiors an odd expression. After all, his watch was in perfect working condition. He made sure of that. It was his mental clock that needed adjusting.
Oak took off his watch and offered it to Nettle with a firm nod. "Absolutely. Check my watch if you'd like."
Without a word, Nettle reached for the leather strap of the watch. Her mouth opened slightly as she examined the face. On it, the hour hand pointed towards the eleven, but the minute hand nestled itself between six and seven. If it was correct, then Bill would have arrived shortly before 10:30 in order to endure the conversation until the minute hand ticked to 10:31. Realizing this, Nettle handed Oak his watch.
"Maybe your watch is a few minutes fast," Oak said with a shrug as he put his watch back on. "You should be careful about that, Professor Nettle. You know how the other teams feel about interruptions, and I'd hate to break up another argument if you go back to Laboratory F to find the biochemistry team still there, especially when we're getting along so well today."
"Right," Nettle said with a slow nod. "Right then."
She glared at Bill. He still appeared heavily confused, and that expression alone tried Nettle's patience. Nonetheless, she hid that fact well.
"McKenzie, I'll assume you've been briefed about Experiment #22a already. Prepare to record observations."
Leaving it at that, she turned and walked briskly to the other side of the room. Bill watched her lean over someone else to check a computer screen.
"You can relax now," Oak said. "She'll go easy on you for this experiment."
At Oak's consent, Bill exhaled a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. "Professor... thank you. You lied for me."
Oak pulled up his sleeve to examine his watch. With his large fingers, he pulled out the pin in its side and twisted the head to turn the hands back to their original positions.
"Eh, I should have known you would notice. Luckily for you, Professor Nettle didn't." He pushed the pin back in. "Bill, I know you don't mean to do it, but please, for your sake, try not to get Professor Nettle worked up again. It'd help to keep the peace between you and your teammates when I can't step in myself."
Bill lowered his head. He felt the heat of a blush cross his cheeks. "I understand."
"It's different, working in a team compared to working freelance, especially if the laboratory is government or corporation-owned and operated, and I want you to realize that. As harsh as she may seem to you, Professor Nettle is right. There are certain rules you need to follow in order to work well with the rest of your team."
Inside, Bill felt himself flinch. It was one thing to be scolded by Professor Nettle, an individual who was perpetually in a sour mood, but it was a different thing altogether to be scolded by Professor Samuel Oak. For one, Oak rarely felt the need to reprimand his colleagues and subordinates, although his typically jovial personality was slowly being worn away by the stress that came with his position as Polaris's director for the duration of Project Stardust. For another, even without that title, Oak was the foremost figure in the field of pokéology aside from Professor Rowan. To receive praise from Oak was the ultimate affirmation for a pokémon researcher. To receive criticism meant that one had a long way to go.
"Yes, professor," Bill said after a long pause.
Sensing the youth's discomfort, Oak's stern face cracked into a warm smile. "You'll learn," Oak assured him. "Ah, the innocence of youth. It reminds me of a poem, actually. Would you like-"
Bill couldn't decide whether it was a relief or impending doom that Nettle's voice suddenly interrupted.
"Excuse me, Professor Oak," she said. She stood stiffly a few feet away, and her voice was strained, as if she was struggling to keep the sharpness out of her words. "With all due respect, we need McKenzie at his station now."
Oak's smile grew, and without warning, he tilted back on his feet to laugh. His deep, rumbling voice bubbled over every other noise in the laboratory. A few of the other scientists even looked up to watch him close his eyes and rub the back of his neck.
"Oh yes! I'm sorry. You're absolutely right." He opened his eyes and glanced towards his protégé. "Well, Bill, go on! Work hard for Hoenn's sake! I don't expect anything less than excellence from you."
The director probably didn't realize it, but Bill had definitely heard that line of encouragement before, uttered to another researcher who felt the cold, hard snap of Professor Nettle's voice. Nonetheless, Oak's smile and tone were enough to let Bill ease from humiliation-born anxiety to a slightly more comfortable zone. He responded with his own smile - albeit a somewhat more timid one - and nodded.
"Right. Thank you, professor."
He walked briskly to his station in a corner of the laboratory. Oak stood back, smiling as he waited for the experiment to begin. Professor Nettle, meanwhile, harbored a far icier expression on her face as she glared directly at the window in front of her and clenched her teeth at the sound of Oak's tone towards Bill.
Even the other members of the psychology-ethology team couldn't quite understand how Nettle became their leader. Granted, she was nearing fifty and had almost as many awards and degrees as she did years on Earth, but it was widely known throughout the complex that she simply wasn't leadership material. A lot of it had to do with the way she treated people. She had previously been a field researcher, known mostly for her endeavors to understand jynx communication patterns, and she was more used to handling ice-types than humans thanks to her years of isolation in the frozen north. Bill wasn't the only one who noticed she lacked much in the way of mercy; it was a whispered joke that she could relate more to the jynx than any human being. She was cold. She was relentless. She demanded perfection from her colleagues as if she didn't expect a single one of them to be capable of delivering.
"McKenzie?" she said sharply as she looked away from the window.
Bill recoiled as he settled at his station across the room. The observational deck of Laboratory D was just large enough for the five scientists working on the psychology aspect of Kanto's Project Stardust, yet with Nettle so close by, Bill felt just a little awkward being there, as if the space was smaller than it actually was. He turned towards Nettle and tried to look as professional as possible.
"Yes, Professor Nettle?" he asked.
She eyed him with a serious, nearly suspicious gaze. "Are you ready?"
Turning back to his station, Bill placed his hands on the keyboard of the computer in front of him. With a few quick key strokes, he brought the machine back to life, and a few more let him through its digital security system. The black screen was quickly replaced by a desktop sparsely populated with icons. Bill ignored most of these graphics as he keyed in a few more commands to fill the screen with two boxes. One was a blank document, and the other was a box with a video feed of an open, white room. In the middle of the room were two clear boxes: one of them held a purple and white rat pawing at the sides of its cage, while the other...
He tried not to think about it as he switched to the blank document.
"I'm ready, professor," he finally said.
Nettle nodded. "Very well." She turned away from him. "Professor Fig, stand by for release. Everyone else, this will be Experiment #22a: Hunting Tactics of XP-650. Are you ready?"
All four of her colleagues promptly replied, "Yes, professor."
"Good." She nodded. "Open both of the doors, Professor Fig."
Fig turned his bright blue eyes towards a large console at his work station. His large hand rose and hit the smooth face of a red button with a fleshy palm.
"Doors released," he said as he slowly turned back to his monitor.
Nettle touched her chin as she watched through the window at the far end of the laboratory. Beyond it was the exact same thing Bill was seeing on his computer screen: a large, open room with solid, white walls and a concrete floor. Sitting in the middle of the room were the very same boxes.
One side on each respective cube swung outward, and the cautious rattata in the first box was the first to move. He crawled into the open, twitching his long whiskers as he blinked at the strange creature in the other box. The creature clacked its numerous legs to pull itself forward from Plexiglas onto concrete. It had no eyes, yet it seemed to be staring at the rattata. A cold feeling settled in the prey's heart as he crept towards his left with his own eyes fixed on the red creature.
Suddenly, the thing leapt at him. With a screech, the rattata lunged towards the open space to the side. His paws scrambled desperately as his small heart beat against his chest in the mad dash for safety. Yet even with his speed, he felt the searing pain of eight small, sharp needles planting themselves into the flesh of his shoulder. He screamed again, and his eyes widened at the bulbous creature resting on his body. His legs still pounded in a frantic, tumbling run as something slid under his skin and sucked on his veins. No matter what he did, including bashing his shoulder into the cement, the creature refused to let go.
Thanks to rapid blood loss, the rattata's movements became sluggish, eventually slowing to the point where he could only stumble inch by inch towards his box. He didn't make it all the way back to the Plexiglas cube; just before his paws could drag him inside, he collapsed and closed his eyes.
"Dear God," Nettle whispered. "How long was that?"
"Two minutes, forty-seven seconds," Fig recited.
Bill's fingers clacked on the keyboard to record the number. Then, he glanced at the video feed on his monitor again. Curiosity got the best of him, and he tapped his mouse over and clicked a button to zoom in. He had hoped to get a better view of what the parasite was doing, but instead, a strange feeling settled in his stomach. Right away, he felt his face blanch. He wanted to turn away, but he couldn't stop himself from watching the flickering image of the creature consuming the rattata from the inside out. Gradually, it crawled up the rodent's side, ripping the flesh as it went until the ribs and the slick insides were exposed. Bill had seen a vast number of different things since he became a pokémon researcher, but he had never seen a pokémon consume live prey with such clean efficiency. Not a drop of blood was spilled, and the alien cut through skin with the deftness of a surgeon.
Already feeling lightheaded, Bill covered his mouth with a hand, but he still couldn't tear his eyes away from the creature. When it began to ooze a luminescent, green gel into the wound, Bill leaned back in his chair and shuddered, catching Oak's attention again.
"Bill?" he murmured.
Taking a breath, Bill pushed away from his station and stood.
"Excuse me for a moment," he said quietly.
Without any further explanation, Bill quickly walked out of the room.
---
"Stop it."
Bill hunched over the sink in a bathroom down the hall. Moving his hands beneath the silver faucet, he watched the red sensor blink and beep. Cold water sprayed over his hands and into the granite basin beneath them. Cupping his hands, he caught enough water to splash his face before grabbing a paper towel from a small pile next to the sink. With the towel pressed against his skin, he straightened his back and took a few more deep breaths. Slowly, he peered over the edge of the paper, catching sight of his reflection in the mirror that occupied the wall space above the sinks. Despite everything he did to calm himself, he still looked paler than usual.
Sighing, he crumpled the paper towel and tossed it into a garbage can by the door in the corner. Then, he turned back to the mirror and placed his hands on both sides of the sink.
"You're a trained researcher," he said to himself. "You've been studying pokémon for years. Why are you having this reaction now? Is it any different from watching a scyther hunt?"
His mind wandered back to the images he saw on his computer. He thought about the creature slicing open the rattata, about the sight of the rat's innards, about the green gel oozing into the wound.
A queasy feeling churned his stomach, and he doubled over to gag into the sink. It took a good portion of his will not to throw up; instead, he coughed and took a few gasps of air. After a few moments of this, he shook his head and looked up to stare at his reflection again.
"All right. Perhaps it is," he murmured. "But haven't you seen worse? How many years have you worked on the field, and why are you reacting like this now?"
He shut his eyes tightly and shook his head for a second time. Gingerly, he straightened his back once more.
"Right. You need to do this, Bill. It's why you're here."
Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and looked at his reflection again. Already, color was beginning to come back to his cheeks.
"There. That's it. Just remember, what can possibly go wrong? You're doing this as a scientist. There's no reason to be afraid of it."
Nodding, he smiled at himself and turned towards the door.
"Nearly fainting at a pokémon's hunting behavior. Honestly, Bill, what kind of researcher are you?"
Pulling open the door, he took a deep breath, kept his eyes on the floor, and began walking out of the bathroom under the assumption he was alone. After all, it was during lab hours. Most personnel were normally occupied in one room or another.
Except, apparently, for the three fairly large lab assistants who suddenly grabbed him as soon as he took his first step into the hallway.
This entry was cross-posted from http://mercoledi.dreamwidth.org/103838.html.