Epilogue – The Crimson King

And man is god. Is God.

The God.

He yanked me from out of the void, over the edge of the world, and into a misery of meaninglessness and petty quarrels.

Into a dark world in which only the sound of a voice I surmised was my own existed. Screaming, fretfully, in sheer agonizing terror of the unknown world in which I had suddenly been granted life.

I called upon myself – a desire purely driven by a sense of time and emersion into hidden emotion of which I had no grasp of measure or strength – and found that nothing within me responded in any meaningful manner.

Imagine that. To be all alone. Even within yourself.

It resonated across an empty, never-ending space of dead blackness. It filled me with a sense of horror, for I understood – oh yes – I understood that something must be terrible wrong with me. That I was alone – even within myself.

Imagine that. Try it. You won't like it if you have the courage to pursuit that thought to its inevitable destination. You won't like it. Not. One. Bit.

God created me – my God, not yours, Guardian – in sheer stupendous hubris. But the Gods lacked the understanding of a soul. He didn't grant me that, he couldn't.

And I had no idea for what purpose I was given life. Was there a purpose? Was there even supposed to be that?

And slowly, from the shadows of a mind I was still struggling to define, an idea arose from depths unseen. Slowly this idea was joined by a thought of equal strength. Contrasting each other.

Combatting.

And therein lay a choice for me. Two paths.

See that? You see THAT!

What does it mean, professor?

Voices descended from above, ascended from beneath, coalesced from within, and touched upon everything and nothing as it filled me with wondrous jubilation – alas, I was not alone. At last. There was life in my world. Another life. For me to share… my confusion.

Can you see? I said, screamed, raved…

It means it's – "thinking… There's brain activity. It's alive. My God, we did it."

God? Are you my God? My creator?

"All right," the other man, voice rougher and colder, said. "Kill it."

"What?"

What?

"We have our orders. You've proven it possible. Now we need to perfect it. Kill it. Before it goes awry."

"But, sir, my daughter… you promised…"

"And Giovanni shall keep his promise. But this – this abomination… won't bring back your daughter. It's just a steppingstone – a vast milestone in the right direction."

"Please, I see her at night… hear her… she's pleading with me from wherever she is… We need to save her. I need to save her."

Were they talking about me? No. They couldn't… I…

"You will, professor. Trust us. Without us, you wouldn't have come this far. Do for us what we asked of you. Complete operation Crimson King and we shall honor our promise."

"You're Team Rocket! For fuck sake! How can I possibly trust you'll honor your word?"

"Hmm… how indeed… Isn't it peculiar, though?"

"Wha-"

"To find oneself so dependent upon another man's work, another man's resources. You see, professor, how did we end up here? You so dependent upon the money and resources that we can provide…

"Resources stolen from Oak! And you killed him! You killed him… He was a friend…"

"Nevertheless, how did we end up here? We certainly didn't kill your daughter."

"She's not dead," the professor whispered, but his voice was quiet, almost dead in the dark. An old voice. Filled with regret. Almost as dead inside as me…

"No, not quite. Sorry. But she will be. She's as good as dead without us. And without you we won't have the item that we require."

"A Pokémon – without a soul, without free will… little more than an overly-powerful robot."

"Quite. It still doesn't answer the question. How did we end up here? We didn't put your daughter into a coma, we didn't even know about you until a couple of weeks ago – hell, a couple of weeks ago we didn't need a Super Pokémon. And yet, here we are, destiny prevails at last…"

"Destiny…"

Destiny? My thoughts seemed to belong to another realm of existence. Aside the space in which I floated along.

"You believe it was your choices that led us here? Was it your choices that ultimately put your daughter inches away from an early grave? Or was it simply life sweeping its filthy hand into your pathetic life? We didn't create the Guardian – or maybe we did – but more likely he was a response to our growing strength, send herein by a bygone entity beyond our scope."

"What's your point?"

"There are no choices. Never was. You're here because life provided you with no other option. We are here because life provided us with no other option. To think anything else is a futile game of self-delusion."

"I made my own choices."

Coarse laughter resonated down upon me, cutting through the darkness. "Ah, yes. Spoken by a man who believes that his existence truly matters for something, that his will is something more than merely the manifestation of illusory compulsions. Let me tell you something, whether you daughter lives or dies won't change fuck all. It won't change shit! Nobody – and I mean that – will give a flying fuck in this world if I pulled the plug on your daughter right now."

"But you won't," the professor said, but his voice was drowned by the uncertainty of his fearful heart. "You know I only help you because of her."

"Professor." The man laughed. "You've already provided us with the blueprints. We can take it from here if we must. It will take us awhile longer, but we will get there in the end. No choice truly matters."

No choice truly matters.

There it was again. The two paths. The only thoughts I could see, but hadn't thought through… Couldn't, perhaps.

Life. I had been given life. Not born into it, but given. There was a difference. A small one. But one that made it all the more different. Purposeful. Purposeless. Two roads in the dark.

To live with purpose meant that your choices ultimately mattered. And the greater the purpose the greater the meaning of every single one of your choices – the ultimate path of life.

ILLUSIONS!

Purposelessness…

No choice truly matters. That was the word from the dark man, the word from a God. From god.

Did that mean that something wasn't wrong inside? That we were all just dancing around each other, all alone inside. Did that mean the others had just told each other a lie so that life was just a tad more bearable? For who could bear the measure of the truth entire?

Who indeed?

The tragedy of humanity, of our destinies as beings laboring under the illusory assurance of a self, of a higher awareness, is not that our hearts can break, but the certainty that, given time, our hearts will mend.

The tragedy of humanity? Who was that speaking? I know now that it was you, of course, Guardian, but back then… back then it was like being found in the dark, for suddenly there was someone in the dark space between spaces, who shared my dread, who seemingly possessed the strength to bear the burden of the lie, the knowledge of it.

The lie of life.

And suddenly I was filled with rage. You were denying me my conclusion.

At times I almost dream of my souls, like a vision viewed from afar, screaming in prayer for the light of memory to dim… so that I too can walk hand-in-hand with olden age into oblivion, unconscious of the wrongfulness of our sinful society. And then the dream ends… and I find within me a prayer rising out of my abyss, praying for a better way, a brighter light… a second chance. Perchance I perished in the flames of my dissent once long forgotten, raving, love blotted out in shadows so vast that nothing remains beyond. But life is blotted out – not so completely. There was still a light. And dark. It may not be much, but it was mine. It may be wrecked, but it was scattered enough within for me to follow with the goal of my heart in sight… and path unknown… leading me to salvation.

Leading me back to love. In which lightness I might, by forgotten instinct and unfound will, last above the horrors as I search for my way back amongst the living.

The voice – your voice – ignited a flame of anger within so vast that I could no longer control my desires. I had to live!

The gods aside the darkness couldn't end me now. This darkness couldn't be all my eyes would lay their sight onto. There was more. And as I realized your heartbroken mumbling, realized them in a dream-like space in between moments of life, I realized that I was given life to be the true equalizer. To be the foreteller of truth. And I ascended, descended, coalesced, and touched upon everything and nothing, as I manifested myself into the world, yanked my soulless life to life to be…

To be…

The Crimson King.