Chapter 5: Present Day

Sam felt less secure in Rowan’s laboratory than he previously had in the lobby. The lab had no windows, only lifeless fluorescent bulbs above him. One, which was not quite in the center of the ceiling but a few feet to the right, flickered continuously since Sam and the professor entered. Amidst all the other lights that glowed flawlessly, this one shouldn’t have bothered anyone; it barely registered in the room that something was off in the lighting, but it still reminded Sam that the light was not natural. The laboratory seemed to be cut off from all signs of life and nature whatsoever, actually. There was no weaving plant here to integrate itself into blinds; to that point, there were no windows to blind there at all. The sterile white walls held no portraits or paintings. The floor was a hard vinyl surface that helped reflect the chill from the air conditioning upwards. Sam yearned for the natural light, hardwood walls, and vegetation of the waiting room as he pondered how a professor who assists in raising young pokemon can operate in such a dead room.

“I’m sorry I asked you to put your pokemon away–what were their names again?”

“Vlam and Bree,” Sam answered, his voice as lifeless as the room. He made no attempt to differentiate which was the Ninetales or the Butterfree. His brain was busy being shuffled back through countless rooms like this one, where he received disheartening word after disheartening word for more than 12 months now. The image of Vlam curling around Rowan’s feet and the hopefulness that her analysis of his character provided felt like they had happened to someone else he might have read about in a story. All he could think of was his rage at useless so-called medical experts. And his brother’s black, emotionless eyes.

“Yes, Vlam and Bree. I’m sorry I asked you to put Vlam and Bree away before coming here. This is where I work on any sick pokemon that come my way. You’ll understand that I need to maintain as germ-free an environment as possible, right?”

Sam nodded, but all he could ponder was how anyone–human or pokemon–could possibly feel better while in this room.

“You seem discomforted here. I apologize, Sam. I merely hoped we could speak in private. Speaking of going after our continent’s legendary pokemon…that is obviously a sensitive matter. I wouldn’t want just anyone to hear you talking like that.”

“I don’t care who hears me, professor,” Sam barked. Rowan’s words had stirred something inside him, and now his spine felt prickly. “I am going to catch them.”

“Now now, son. I can’t imagine how you even think this possible. First of all, no one has seen or documented any proof of the legends in decades,” Rowan stopped there and appeared to be playing with numbers in his head, “possibly centuries! Secondly, you’re hardly the first headstrong young man to come to Sinnoh with designs on capturing them. It’s a countless number of trainers that have failed; how could you think you’ll succeed? And also–”

Sam was tired of his words. Where previously the professor had spoken to him respectfully, possibly even affectionately, his words were now sharpened with the points of lecture. Sam knew he was being scolded, an insolent child who thought himself too big for his britches. “I’m not like the others.”

Rowan’s mouth froze in mid-thought. “How do you feel so?” His words had an air of being rhetorical. He was merely humoring Sam with this question.

Sam shook his head and turned away from the professor. This laboratory was bad enough, but Rowan’s attitude was the same as everyone else’s. The same as dozens of doctors who had no answers for Sam and looked at him like he just grew a second mouth every time he challenged their certainty. He turned away from the professor. “When they came here, why did they do it?”

“Do what?”

Are you following this conversation at all, old man, Sam thought but did not verbalize. “Come for the legends.” Sam turned back and Rowan was stroking his beard.

“To become more powerful, I suppose. Either as trainers or as human beings looking for the secrets of infinite willpower or knowledge.”

“So they came here for themselves?”

“It would make the most sense.”

Sam closed his eyes and thought of a still-charming man confined to a hospital bed, having not spoken a word or moved a muscle in a year’s time. Sam thought of eyes that used to invite you into conversation, and that now were as empty as the vacuum of space. Sam thought of Tommy. 

“Well I don’t want the legends, Professor Rowan. I don’t want to train them, I don’t want to battle with them, and I don’t want their secrets. I need them to save my brother’s life. Or give him one back,” his voice began failing with uncertainty. “I don’t know…I don’t know what I need them to do, but I…I need it…”

“Your brother…Tommy.” Rowan’s eyes rolled to the top of his head as if he could see the lightbulb going on there. “I am sorry, I had forgotten you had one. It’s been so long…” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his vest; it reminded Sam of a chided young boy who felt guilty about something. “But I don’t understand. How could the legends help him?”

Sam had steeled himself for having to do this, and so he began his explanation of something that had happened just over a year ago, but had roots much deeper in his past than that. He told the story of Tommy Stark, an amazing young man who thought nothing of raising his younger brother after their father died. Tommy, who sacrificed everything just to make sure that Sam would never want for anything.

A year ago, Tommy’s sacrificing for Sam should already have been over. Sam had been a year out of college; he should have been finding a job. But the job market was hard for everyone, so Sam was still living at home. He often wondered if he would move out even if he had his own job. At twenty-four years old, his brother was all he’d ever known. Tommy worked two jobs at that point; he had long-since been promoted to manager position of the Goldenrod Department Store, but he was working part-time at the Pokemon Center, too. Tommy never said it aloud, but Sam knew he missed battling, and working at the Center gave him the chance to be around pokemon and trainers all day. Was Tommy jealous of Sam? Sam was in the World Pokemon League just like Tommy had so briefly been. Was he jealous to see Sam living the life that should have been his? He always seemed so happy, so proud. Sam hated wondering if he himself could ever be so selfless with his life because he feared he’d not like the truth of the answer.

Sam had already had a busy day that evening when he finally arrived home. Leaving Tommy at home to tend to the headache his older brother woke up with, he had spent the morning at the CareerLink working on his resume and finding job listings. He managed to drag himself out to a few places that were looking for entry-level workers. He’d finally given up looking for work that would put his degree in Pokemon Psychology to use, so at that point, anything would have worked. Tommy told him that eventually they’d need counselors at the Pokemon Center, but there were just no openings currently, so Sam wanted something to merely get him through until that day. He barely got out of his last meeting in time to get to his WPL match in the afternoon. Coach William Overton, a lanky older man with too much product in his fiery hair, chewed Sam out for almost missing his check-in time, but all was forgiven when Sam swept his rookie opponent away. After a few customary interviews and the post-match handshake, it had been safe to say the only thing on Sam’s mind was when he would start getting matches on prime-time television. 

Tommy had cheered Sam away from such distraction by preparing stuffed porkchops, one of Sam’s favorites, for dinner that evening. Sam remembered their discussion that day about the match and the job-hunting, and how a few times, he saw Tommy shaking his right hand as if he was trying to clear it of invisible spiders. Sam didn’t think much of it at the time, just that his brother must have burned himself on the casserole dish and was flinching in pain. They sat at the table, and Tommy began telling Sam that he thought there was going to be an opening at the Pokemon Center soon. One of the resident pokemon therapists was apparently interviewing in Azaela for a head counselor position, so Sam would have a possible foot in the door in the coming weeks.

After dinner they settled in to watch some other WPL Johto matches–Tommy was always very insistent that Sam study as much of his opponents as possible—and it was then that Sam noticed something: Tommy was trying to describe the methods of one of the trainers they were watching, but his words weren’t coming out right. It was like there was a fog hanging in front of his mouth catching the words as he made them.

“A few seconds after that, he collapsed. He’d suffered a massive stroke,” Sam’s voice felt tiny as he finished relaying the memory to the pokemon professor. “He’s been catatonic ever since.”

Both men were silent for some time after that, and Sam actually appreciated it. As much as it pained him to do so, Sam had relayed this story several times since it happened, and so many times the other person’s reaction has been to saccharine their voices and pull Sam into a hug and tell him what a “poor thing” he is. In contrast to that, he admired what he viewed as reverent silence from Rowan. All good things, as they say, do come to ends, and Rowan broke the space between them. 

“I would never make so little of your pain as to say that I know what you’re going through, Sam. My parents both lived full lives, and my sisters are both with me today and have given me beautiful nieces and nephews. What you’ve gone through is awful. But it doesn’t answer the question of why you think the legends can help you.”

“My brother is stuck in a bed, unable to will himself move. He’s forgotten everything about his previous life. And he can’t remember his relationships. Not with Vlam and not with me. Do you see what he’s missing? Willpower, knowledge, and emotion.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “Son, you’re talking about mythical abilities attributed to legendary pokemon. Not only are we not sure they still exist, but we have no way of knowing if they are truly responsible for such matters.”

“Well what else am I going to do?” Sam’s voice grew large again. “Go see a specialist? Or a homeopathic doctor? Oh wait, I already have! More than I can count. I haven’t found a single human being alive that has an answer for the severity of stroke that Tommy suffered. And if I can’t find a human…”

“It’s…not unheard of. There’s certainly healing abilities in the pokemon kingdom that have proven useful on human conditions. But what you are asking for…what you are expecting…”

“Professor, I’m going to do this. I’m going to at least look for them. I don’t know what else to do. It’s the only shot I have left.”

Again, Rowan was silent. Sam knew he was carefully considering his response. He probably didn’t believe in what Sam needed to do, but perhaps he would at least empathize with it. Finally he replied, “I can’t leave my lab or my offices. I simply have too many people that depend on me. But if this is something you truly want to do, I can send an assistant to guide you around Sinnoh. I will be honest, Sam, I think you’d have a better chance chasing the end of a rainbow; I honestly do. But as a favor to your family, I’ll help you as much as I can within reason.”

It was all Sam could have asked.