The Long and Winding Road
By: BetterButterBuddha
Chapter 8: Epiphany

July 1st, 2000 Calset Island

It had been three days. Three days of sailing thorough mundane seas; three days of sitting inside a catamaran, seeing how long it takes for my legs to atrophy from misuse. Sailing is really just a test of patience. The only other living things I’ve got to talk with are my pokemon, and to be frank, the only one that will really fit inside the cockpit is poliwag.

Yet after the seemingly eternal voyage, I had finally arrived. Calset Island stood out on the horizon. It was still about a quarter of a mile away, but I could see several things about it.

It was obviously unpopulated. There was absolutely nothing to distinguish it from any other wild island in the sea. I could not see any cities, not even any roads. The island was also very small. It might have been only a mile in diameter. Trees encompassed the entire island, blocking all other visual hints I might gain from this far off. Indeed, the only clue that there was anything living on this island at all was the small dock and motorboat protruding out of the left side of the island.

I piloted the catamaran into the small dock, and once I was at a safe enough distance, I climbed out of the cockpit and jumped onto the deck. I then used a rope to secure it onto one of the wooden pillars keeping the wooden panels of the dock above the water. The boat on the other side of the dock looked like it didn’t see much use. The nameless pokemon expert probably only used it to obtain food for himself and anyone else he might have living here.

It was good to be on land again. I looked around to see a small trail leading into the woods. It wasn’t paved, and the brush growing on the side of the trail seemed to be invading the unused path. Having no idea of where this supposed legendary master lived; I set out on this trail. My feet kicked against the dry dirt of the beaten path. Very few birds chirped, and I couldn’t see any hints of wild pokemon. Though it was good to be walking again, I could not avoid the feeling that I might be better off back in the boat.

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My destination actually wasn’t a long walk from the dock. After fifteen minutes of walking in silence, I stood in the shadow of a grandiose, archetypical mansion. It loomed over me. The sun, whose lights were dimmed thanks to a carpet of clouds, shone meekly next to this giant. The mansion was intricately detailed, and it seemed to be larger than any building I had ever seen. I began to wonder how any amount of trees could conceal this place. “Why would a single person need a house this large?” I asked myself as I approached the doorway of this giant. My voice fell on dead ears.

I knocked on the hard oak of the front door. The silence of the island was so great that I could hear the sound of my knock reverberating around the halls of the house. Yet nobody came. There were no audible footsteps, no signs of life dwelling inside this mansion at all. I knocked again, only to be greeted by the same cold response. Was anybody in there at all?

My hand gripped the cold steel of the doorknob and I checked to see if the resident had left the door open. It was unlocked, so I opened the door and let myself in.

I stood inside a huge, cavern-like hall. Above me, images of cherubs dancing were painted on the ceiling. Whoever lived here had to be really rich.

“Hello!!!” I yelled. My voice vibrated throughout the hallways, echoing off of the walls. Traces of my yell remained audible after even a minute, and some part of me, deep down, felt almost bad for ruining the silence.

Nobody had answered my call. It was as if I was totally alone in this house. I yelled again a few times, but my efforts had proven useless. There was nobody in this house.

I was just about to move out the door before something caught my eyes. There was a doorway standing at the end of the hall. The door was opened just a fraction of an inch, yet it was enough for me to see inside. Curiosity killed the cat; I was intrigued.

I went over to the mahogany door and pushed it open. It was the doorway to a huge room, literally filled to the brim with priceless artifacts. Inside, there were ancient scepters, books from long forgotten ages, pieces of art which the world had probably never seen before, and a strange card depicting the legendary pokemon of life, Mew. But the thing that drew my attention the most was the painting in the middle of the room.

It filled up easily half a wall. A large oaken border was framed around it. The painting itself was a work to behold. It depicted a stormy sea; the oceans were raging with intense waves. The waves all had white tips, they were so powerful that my mind’s eye could actually see them churning with anger. Rain poured down onto the ocean. A huge, ominous tempest raged above. However, the most striking part of the picture was its subject. An ancient culture could have easily mistaken it for a bizarre kind of sea bird; it might have reminded the ancient Greeks of a large halcyon. I knew its true nature. Those silver wings, with the black tipped tail, the almost hand like feathers on the edges of its wings, the black markings on the back… it was an all too familiar picture for me. This was Lugia, in the heat of a storm.

“How do you like it?” asked a voice from behind me. The voice was male, and it had an English accent to it. I spun around to see a person standing in the doorway. He had unusual hair; it kind of dangled around the front of his shoulders. He stood tall in the door way, he had to be at least six feet. Silver rings pierced his ears, and his face wore a subtle smile. His robe was a white-blue color with a strip of violet running down the center. His collar was held together by a golden clasp bearing an insignia, his own, I presumed. “I spent quite a bit of time painting it, and I like it very much. Plus, for a total stranger to wander into my house just to view my art seems to be quite a compliment. Unless you aren’t here just to see art,” he continued.

I felt a red blush flash across my face. “Forgive me, sir,” I said to him, “Nobody answered the door, and I just kind of came in. Your house is very… alluring. Umm, I came here to get some information on legendary pokemon. I was told by Dr. Ivy that an expert lived here who would be willing to help me. My name is Vincent Castaneda.” I could not help but feel guilty as the man in the robe gazed at me.

“Vincent, is it? Yes, now that you mention it, I do remember receiving a message about a visitor recently. Well, then, how do you do? I see you’ve taken an interest in my collection. These are all my most valuable possessions,” he said, indicating the miscellaneous artwork scattered all around, “I am a collector, and a scholar. My name is Lawrence Calset.”

“Ah,” I replied, for lack of anything else to say. “So, could I ask you a few questions? I’m kind of acting as an information gatherer for the pokemon league, due to the recent crisis. I assume you’re already aware of it,” I said.

“Aware of it? My dear boy, I knew of it as soon as it happened. Those satellites that they used to track it were mine. I funded the project that used to track Lugia’s motions throughout the undersea currents. We were learning quite a bit about the relationship between the movements of Lugia and the weather patterns until Lugia disappeared. I must admit, this has me quite upset. But to answer your first question, yes, I’d be delighted to be interviewed. Follow me,” he said in a dignified voice.

We went into another room, past the cherubic corridor and into what looked like his study. He sat down in a leather chair and then motioned for me to do the same. I sat down.

“Great. Say, before we begin, would you mind if I recorded this interview on my pokegear?” I inquired.

“Not at all, in fact, I’m quite flattered. Now, what did you want to know about Lugia?” he replied in a calm voice.

“Everything that I can. But for starters, I’d like to know where it was just before it disappeared.” I said as I hit the “record” button on my pokegear.

“Hmmm. To understand that, one must first know how we tracked Lugia in the first place. We cannot actually know precisely where Lugia is at a given place. It simply moves too fast for us to track accurately. We could guess, but that’s never very stable. Instead, a new way of tracking was formulated. You see, when Lugia moves on the currents, it seems to sing a song, like such,” he said. He took out a remote control, and pressed a few buttons while aiming it at the speakers in his study. As a result, an eerie, familiar sound came out of the speakers. In fact, I was almost sure that I had heard that sound somewhere before…

“That’s the noise of Lugia’s song. It is sung at a deafening 200 decibels, which is much louder than the noise a space shuttle makes as it takes off. Needless to say, that is an easily traceable sound. So I modified my satellites to detect that noise, and we’ve been able to calculate Lugia’s relative motions based on that. The last place that Lugia’s song was last detected was somewhere in the vicinity of the Orange Archipelago,” he informed me.

“That’s quite useful information. I’m curious; do you have any theories on what happened to Lugia, or where it is now?” I asked.

“Sadly, I cannot say that I know exactly why Lugia disappeared. Nobody can really say for sure. I do know this much, however: Lugia is a part of nature. It’s essential to nature’s workings, and if something happens to the environment, then something happens to Lugia. I learned that lesson too long ago…” he said with a look of remorse on his normally stately face, “As for where Lugia may be right now, I have literally no idea. Since our only way of tracking it was by measuring its sounds, it could have just stopped singing, and we would be none the wiser. It may still be in the oceans. I seriously doubt that that’s the case though. More likely is that something has gone wrong, and Lugia’s disappearance is its way of dealing with it.”

“Wow. That’s very insightful. Did Lugia do anything unusual just before the disappearance?” I inquired.

“Actually, yes. In the month before Lugia’s departure, it slowed down to a very slow speed of what it used to be capable of. Lugia, before it disappeared, usually went at the same speed as the planet’s rotations. However, in the month before the unfortunate event, Lugia slowed to the speed of about a Boeing 747. And another thing happened. Its song changed. While it was once predictable, yet beautiful, in this month it changed to an almost lamenting tune. It was rather sad, really,” he said. A lament… Why does that sound familiar?

“This is unsettling. It sounds almost like Lugia was expecting this to happen. Is there any more information you can give me? Places to go, people to see?” I asked.

“Let’s see. If you wanted to really get into this deeper, you could try to check the area around the fire, ice, and lightning islands. As for people to see, I’m the leading authority on legends; nobody else could help you as much as I, save for Lugia itself. It’s not just my hobby, it’s my job. Here’s my phone number,” he said, handing me a business card with his videophone number on it.

“One more thing,” he said, grabbing a book, “This is for you. It’s a book which I authored recently on the history and facts of legendary pokemon. It should help some. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a business to run, and I need to get back to work. Good Luck on your journey. A lot can depend on just one person.” He handed me the book, then got out of his chair and left.

I walked out of the mansion, out of the silence. The man inside there seemed nice, but it was almost as if he intended to hold his past away from me. “He’s got something more to do with Lugia; I can feel it. Oh well. For now, I’m on my own,” I thought as I made my way back to the catamaran.

The leaves on the trees were moved by a wind, and so the silence was broken. I moved on.