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“Rise and shine, big girl!” said an unfamiliar, almost robotic, voice.
I was awoken to a pair of large blue eyes, a three-tooth slasher smile, and the whiff of Steven’s cologne. “What in Arceus’s name have you done to my husband!” I shouted. The interloper, which happened to be some sort of Alolan Rotom Pokedexes - I’ve seen these on a few ads from Alola - jumped back in surprise.
“Rotom, please don’t wake up Wallace,” responded Steven, who was getting dressed for the morning.
“Wallace, bzzt? That big girl? She izzz your wife?” asked Rotom.
“No,” responded Steven patiently. “Wallace is a man. He is my husband.”
“Kzzzzrrt?!” reacted Rotom in surprise. “Master Stone, you’re having an affair with Wallace?”
“How can me sleeping with my own husband be an ‘affair’, Rotom?” asked Steven pointedly.
“You have a point. Whatever workzzz for you. It’zzz just rather weird, bzzt.” Rotom paused, watched me get out of bed for about fifteen seconds, and then turned back to Steven. “But I heard from Professor Kukui that you were suppozzz’d to be the Hoenn Champion. Shouldn’t you be serving as a role model to young trainerzzz?”
“I am a role model to young trainers,” responded Steven calmly. “I can beat almost any trainer who challenges me, I have a wonderful work-life-Pokemon balance, and I use my influence to build a positive sense community within and outside the Hoenn region.”
“But you have a huzzzband,” protested Rotom. “Shouldn’t that raise some red flagzzz?”
At this point, I visibly shook. It seemed so deja vu all over again, especially since that disastrous encounter at the holiday party earlier this month - an encounter I do not care to repeat again. I don’t mind saving Steven from another kidnapping attempt from a mean-spirited homophobe, but I prefer not to have to experience it another time. I only had four hours of sleep today, thanks to yesterday’s long videoconference and the time difference between Alola and Hoenn, and I preferred that today would be one in which I could relax.
“And your point is?” replied Steven to that obnoxious machine. Steven noticed that I was feeling stressed just listening to the conversation, so he came over to our bed and let me lean against his body. I felt more secure now that he was holding me close. “It will be okay,” he said quietly as he kissed me on my forehead.
“Your lifestyle is an embarrazzzment,” claimed Rotom as he turned his back towards Steven and me. “I am surprizzzed you do this in public.”
“You’re a piece of work, Rotom,” chastised Steven.
“Bzzt! What does the Hoenn Pokemon League think of thizzz?”
Steven glared at Rotom with his steely gray eyes. “If you keep talking about this subject in such a way, I will silence you myself and send your knocked-out body back to Professor Kukui.”
The Rotom was silent for the rest of the morning.
-----0-0-0-----
Later that morning, I was strolling down the street of the city when I encountered an interesting table in front of the Pokemon Center. The sign on the table read “Ban Devon Products”, and the table was staffed by two young adults - a man and a woman - who seemed to be dressed a little too nicely and a little too coordinated to be Alola residents. The man had blue campaign clothing and the woman wore identical clothing, but in red, so I instantly nicknamed them “Minun” and “Plusle” in my mind.
“Hello there,” I said to the two so-called activists. “What is happening here?”
“We are raising awareness about our petition to ban Devon products in Alola,” said Plusle in a saccharine tone. ‘Would you like to sign our petition?”
I chuckled. “Could you tell me why you think I of all people should sign this petition?” I did my best to ask the question with a straight face. It was quite a challenge. I mean, I think Devon products are awesome, but I admit, I’m quite biased.
Minun responded, “Devon products are dangerous because of the values they promote.”
Wow, that was a vague answer, I thought. After an ironic nod and furrowed brows, I asked Minun, who had a very familiar accent, “Where are you from?”
“Sootopolis City,” said the Minun.
Plusle, who didn’t quite understand the question wasn’t for her, responded, “I’m from Anistar City.”
I looked directly into the Sootopolitan’s eyes. “Why are you here?”
“I - I don’t understand,” he responded defensively as he blinked twice in surprise. “What do you mean? I’m here to support a good cause.”
“And what kind of ‘good cause’ is this?” I pressed.
The Anistari decided to speak for him. “The Stone family, which is the family that runs Devon, regularly interferes with scholarly research of university professors that don’t support its values. We think that research should not have any political bias.”
I tried to hold back a giggle at the pure idiocy of those remarks, but I failed miserably. It sounded like Plusle was some kind of actor reading from a script for a play - which was directed by the same shady folks that supported Liz’s anthropology research.
“Hey, what’s so funny?” responded Minun, who was quite surprised at my reaction. He even looked like he was offended.
I looked at him again. “Can you tell me what kind of university research that Devon interferes with?”
Minun shrugged and looked at Plusle.
“I can explain -” started Plusle.
I cut the Kalosian off mid-sentence. “This question is for your Sootopolitan colleague,” I said firmly. I then looked at Minun for his response, or rather, his lack of response. Once the pause lasted for over ten seconds, I continued, “Can you tell me anything about this university research? Anything at all?”
“I admit I don’t know,” replied Minun sheepishly.
“You say you are Sootopolitan,” I continued at Minun. “For centuries, we have always called our city Kalliste,” I said, switching to the Sootopolitan language briefly to emphasize my point. After all, Sootopolis truly holds up to the nickname of ‘The Most Beautiful’. “Deep inside, does that mean anything to you? Or is it just a place where your house just happens to be?”
“It means a lot to me,” admitted Minun. “My family has lived there for generations. Why do you ask?”
“Do you know who I am?” I asked Minun.
“No,” replied Minun.
“My name is Wallace Stone,” I explained firmly. “I am one of the archons of your city, and I am also the son-in-law of the Devon Corp president. To be quite honest, I am disgusted at your appearance at this table. I have met the anthropology professor whom you praise in person, and I will say that she is not a friend of our people. My husband, who is a professor at the same university, and who is also one of our city’s archons, called out her harsh treatment of her research subjects - she calls us Sootopolitans ‘research subjects’, not ‘research participants’ - because she has a long history of treating our people as objects. Sometime earlier this month, this anthropologist kidnapped and beat up my husband, and I and a friend had to go rescue him. The government of Sootopolis, after finding out what had happened to him, decided to ban her research access to the city.”
“This is why the anthropologist and her allies claim that my family was interfering with so-called academic research,” I continued. “It was a final stand against years and years of her exploitation of our people. And now you come here telling people that it was wrong that my family decided to stand up against her? Where is your Sootopolitan pride? How do you represent our dearest Kalliste, especially when you are in the lands of foreign peoples? Our ancestors fought hard so that we can proudly say today that we are Sootopolitan, and you throw away their legacy by supporting shady causes?”
“I’m sorry,” said Minun, after a long pause. He seemed to be genuinely shocked at the whole thing. “I didn't know the story behind it. I just wanted to be a part of something. I wanted to feel good.”
“When you return home, go to the archon’s office in Sootopolis,” I responded. “Tell them that you want to help out the city and would like to be a volunteer. If you're going to be a part of something, be a part of a group that brings the city together, not one that tears it apart.” I handed him my business card. “If anyone gives you trouble, tell them that Wallace Stone sent you. If you can use Water Pokemon well, as your phone case seems to suggest, then there are definitely plenty of opportunities for you in Sootopolis.”
“Thank you, Archon Stone,” replied Minun genuinely as he read the card. “Wait, you’re from the Whittle line?”
“Yes,” I said. “Whittle is my bachelor name.”
“I think my mother told me a story about a certain Wallace Whittle,” replied Minun. “Do you know my mother, Susan Waterman? Her maiden name was Seymour.”
“Yes, I do,” I replied. “We worked together when we were trainers at the Sootopolis City Gym. Tell Susie and her Starmie that I said hi.”
“Hey,” interrupted Plusle. “I’m 1/32 Draconid, and I think that what you and Devon Corporation are doing are completely wrong!” Her tone was self-righteous and raised a series of red flags, not to mention that her comment was out of place - and out of of line. Besides, most of the Draconids I knew did not talk about themselves as fractions - even sell-outs like Zinnia and Dahlia.
I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. “It is a sad sight to see when indigenous peoples undermine each other just to curry the favor of settler peoples,” I responded pointedly. “It’s not your blood that defines you and your cultural allegiance - it’s your values and your contribution to your community.”
Plusle was stunned. I let the silent sit for a few moments, and then I turned to Minun and waved at him in a friendly manner. “Mr. Waterman, until we meet again.”
It was a line that I borrowed from my husband. It melted my heart every time he would say it. It was so graceful yet so powerful - kind of like Steven himself. But I digress.
“Thank you, Archon Stone,” responded Waterman. He then turned to Plusle and said, “Excuse me” as he packed up his items and left the table.
I felt proud. The potential in our Sootopolitan youth still has been, and will always be, limitless.