Abu stood with his father, Muhammad. They had shaken hands like men, something which inwardly caused Abu to swell with pride. The family was all here including Abu’s two older sisters home from college, but other guests were dallying. One or two guests were being briefly entertained before dinner by Constantina and Abu’s sisters, but many would be late. Work could crop up unexpectedly in the rural lifestyle.
“How’s the journey been, Son?” Muhammad asked Abu. It was a conversational question, but Muhammad clearly wanted to know. Parental concern was not something that evaporated just because one’s child had grown up.
Abu’s face tightened. It was good to see his family again. He missed working with his father in the field together with the pokegirls and even the grunt work of maintenance. It had seemed like tedium at the time, but looking back on it, it had many little moments between family. Abu had not been in contact with his family since he left three and a half months ago. Part of it was because he simply was not in this part of the island most of that time, and the other part was because pokedexes had an frustrating and overall unreliable connection with civilian networks. Or, at least they did in this part of Jade. Coupled with ancient infrastructure being rural towns and villages’ main means of connection with the outside world, it was just plain impractical to send communications home. He had never really thought it worth his while to migrate towards a city just so he could get a reliable connection. Besides, pokers and other tradesmen existed so rural folk never had to put up with the stink of urbanites.
“Actually, dad, I’ve been fairly successful,” Abu said. His ego was prickling. Muhammad had been a tamer at one point, like most men. The urge to brag about his achievement was bubbling just below the surface of Abu’s mind.
“Oh?” Muhammad pressed. He looked interested at least. The man was not exactly waiting with baited breath, but he was definitely hopeful. “What have you made so far?”
“I’ve got twenty-three point five bounty points in the old wallet right now,” Abu said, proud to finally tell his father. Just out of the corner of his eye, Abu noticed that one of his older sisters, the eldest, started choking on her spit when he gave the number. Serves her right for eavesdropping. Some part of him was glad he financially outstripped the college-bound girl. He had wanted to get into something in higher education. Continued education was something of prestige, but it was not meant to be.
Muhammad’s eyebrows shot up. “How much of that is from your award from your test?” he asked, “Even with full marks, that’s impressive.”
Abu shrugged. “Nine for scoring high on my exam, two for the survival course,” Abu admitted, “Spent ten and a half picking up gear here and there- extra stuff to supplement what you got me- and made twenty-one on the road.” Idly, he fiddle with the butt of the knife on his hip. It was a gift from his father like much of his gear was. A lot of tamers got spare bits and bobs from relatives. Most retirees kept a hold of their taming gear to pass it on to the next generation. Most things like canvas tents, cookware, and tools could easily be maintained and perhaps put to use in the future. Of course, no one gave stupid adolescents pokepacks or PPHUs even if they were successful enough as tamers to obtain them. Those would be lost forever if their progeny got themselves killed, a common and depressing reality. Besides, any and every profession had more use for those than kids.
“How?” Muhammad blurted. He then frowned at himself and looked around. Asking a tamer how they found their score was like asking a tradesman how they made their special ingredient or process. It was just plain rude. If they weren’t related, Muhammad’s impulsive inquiry would have been a major faux pas.
Fortunately, Abu did not look offended. He knew his dad was still getting used to the idea of Abu being his own man on an emotional level even if he knew it in the back of his head. “Got lucky,” Abu said with a wry look. In actuality, he wanted to tell his father, but that would be building a bad habit.
Muhammad let out a good natured laugh. “Good lad,” he told his son, “After you retire, I’d like to hear all about it.” Now that would be interesting. Abu had enjoyed some of his father’s old tales sometimes told while they worked in the field or by the fire at night. Eventually, they got stale, but a little embellishment could breathe new life into an old one. Abu had never pictured himself as the one telling the tales before now and found the idea appealing.
Fond remembrances of growing up already seemed like a long time ago. Even working in the fields with his parents, aunts, and the auxiliary pokegirls outside his parents’ direct harem brought a smile to his lips. Growing up, most young men were attracted to the auxiliary pokegirls and those who belonged to their neighbors. The auxiliaries were not family like Abu’s aunts were and sometimes did not even have a name. One of the perks of working in the fields while everyone was bending over to pull weeds was stealing glances up at pokegirl posterior. Muhammad was an incorrigible lech and had continuously encouraged his sons to, “become connoisseurs of the female form,” like him. Such things were made more memorable since ogling oft-sparked old memories in tamers, and then it was best to brace oneself for a story.
“I’ll be sure to tell all that happened,” Abu said with an air of oration. He then wryly added, “and more.” It was a subtle jab at some of Muhammad’s more obvious embellishments. Of course, everyone knew they were embellishments and loved them.
Muhammad snorted but had already mentally migrated to a different thought, casting a look to the pokegirls sitting at the table. Once the rest of the guests arrived, some of them would quickly finish their meal and rush to serve the guests coming to mourn the passing of one of Muhammad’s dwindling children. But, that was not what he was thinking about. He was looking at Dima and Tifawt, Abu’s pokegirls. “You’ll want to pick up a third soon,” he said, “Two can watch your back, but they’ll get tired.”
“Tifawt is a Saguara-” Abu snarked in what was meant to be a playful, bantering manner, but he was cut off by a look from his father.
“You know what I mean,” Muhammad said, brooking no argument, “Get a third and cycle them. You won’t need more than three unless you decide to go on the gym circuit or contracting for some time. Non-feral. Needs to be trainable.”
Abu cleared his throat and briefly broke eye-contact with his father, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “I- uh- have a third?” he stated awkwardly.
Muhammad frowned and asked, “Then where is she? You shouldn't keep her cooped up when there’s a gathering like this. That’s just mean spirited.”
Abu was abashed, but he looked like he really wanted to say something. “It’s another Ingenue,” he said, “I really want an ice sidekick- ah.” Abu cut himself off. His father was still not approving. So, Abu continued, starting to run his words together in an attempt to spit it all out, “Dima I was originally going to hit with an ice crystal, but she evolved unexpectedly and- Well, you see I checked my third into storage, so I can’t let her out because I want to make sure she-.”
Muhammad put his hand up, stopping Abu before he could break into a full ramble. “You don’t have her, your third,” Muhammad clarified.
“Right,” Abu affirmed.
“Because she’s in storage.”
“Yes.”
Muhammad pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded. “Start with that next time,” he advised, “Might save you a headache. And me too.”
Nodding, Abu tried to save some face, “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t want her to be bored and in her ‘ball all day and also didn’t want her to evolve before I could get my e-stone order a couple towns over. So, I thought it was a good compromise.”
“You haven’t been taming long enough to get a storage license,” Muhammad stated. Confusion screwed up his face. Continuing, he also stated, “The pokecenters will just sell off anything you give them. They don’t tell you that and will sometimes lie right to your face.”
Abu waved his father off. “No, no, no,” he said, “I've heard that and avoid bringing in 'over limit' 'balls in town. There’s this guy who runs his own storage business. He got his own storage device somehow- from overseas I think- and he serves those the league won’t.”
“Is that… legal?” Muhammad asked tentatively, “That wasn’t around in my day.”
“Apparently. Must be one of those laws no one bothered passing,” Abu said with a shrug, “Perfect business though. Pretty sure he uses deposits as their own collateral. Sells ‘em off to cover idle accounts.”
“Makes sense,” Muhammad commented.
“Besides,” Abu continued, “Most pokedexes can work with bank accounts now, so we don’t even have to trudge over to the city to do business.”.
“Bout time too,” Muhammad grumbled, “Decades of credits getting lost in transit finally taken care of. If we didn’t have your mother’s computer, life would be a lot harder. I had a leftover second generation pokedex from circa 90 A.S.. It was a fossilized turd when it came out and was a refurbished fossilized turd when the League saddled me with it. Cheap bitches.” Clearly his father was exaggerating since the pocket-sized pokedexes had not been developed until around thirty years ago, but then again, Abu did not really know what monstrosities they forced tamers to carry before that.
“Aye,” Abu agreed even though that was a bit before his time, “Most of the other townie tamers I’ve run into double as a bank teller for the locals who don’t have or can’t afford computers or internet… y’know, when the signal finally goes through after however many hours.” Judging by his father’s pinched expression, he knew exactly what Abu was talking about.
Two more guests arrived, a pair of rather anxious looking girls in their last year of schooling before adulthood. Abu and Muhammad had taken sympathy on the two girls socially drowning in the sea of strangers and herded them towards Abu’s mother, Constantina. They were barely a year Abu’s junior, and the young girls both knew that they too may not make it to adulthood; Abu’s little sister had shown them that. More guests arrived, and it looked like it was time to be seated. Constantina was already hovering by the head of the table. The two remaining van Wong daughters, both Abu’s senior, also sat at that end of the table. Abu figured his late sister’s two friends would be more comfortable around other women. It was something his father had told him at a young age, that men were more beastly, like pokegirls, and often scared the fairer sex. This was most often unintentional but so was the kind of fear many pokegirls put into humans.
Just out of earshot of the pokegirls, the humans all sat at a dinner table with its leafs folded out to accommodate an increased number of guests. Constantina and Muhammad van Wong sat at either end of the table with Constantina at the head. The van Wong children commingled with some friends of the family and the two schoolmates of the deceased. Dinner was less jovial than it was over with the pokegirls, Abu noticed. Before sitting, he had briefly checked in on his pokegirls and his aunts, and they were all… amused. They were all enjoying themselves and their respite from human company and the need to put on airs for the master race. The pokegirls did not quite understand the significance of the event for the humans. After all, life was often brutal and short for their kind, and events like this did not seem to phase them. Perhaps it just did not stand out as especially awful to them. Sad perhaps but not horrific. Although it did not register on his face as he sat there politely eating food he had no real appetite for, Abu’s knuckles clenched. He and the others heard some tittering from the pokegirl table. They quieted down fast, but the air surrounding the humans became heavy, laden with judgement and a brief moment of loathing for how little they cared. Sure, the humans all shot each other fake smiles and played nice with one another, but most of them were inwardly depressed.
Abu could not help but feel the resentment as well. On some cognitive level, the family knew it was like expecting kattle to mourn the loss of their kattleherd. Yet, pokegirls looked so much more similar to humans that some could not help but expect a deeper connection there. Abu tried to remind himself that some of the pokegirls were guests, auxiliary ‘girls who stayed outside, or acquired recently and did not know his sister. His little sister had been quiet, and maybe the happy pokegirls never got the chance to really meet her. He knew that Tifawt and Dima did not. They had no love for his sister that they never knew. That was it, was it not? Pokegirls only had love for their one, bonded master and perhaps a few others. The scope of humanity mattered little to them. Abu tried not to think about it. He was beginning to get unreasonable in his expectations, and that was never good.
The high-pitched, dull ringing of Constantina’s glass broke Abu from his thoughts as well as the rest of the table. The atmosphere lightened somewhat, and Constantina cleared her throat. “Thank you, all, for coming,” she said, “My daughter, H-” Constantina cut herself off. She had almost said her late daughter’s name, and that was a taboo until after the passing ceremony was complete. “My daughter,” she repeated, “has been arranged for, and we will mourn her passing tomorrow. Tonight, let us celebrate her life by living ours.” Constantina then poured a splash of wine our the window next to the table. Those who were not seated by the window stood to do the same without dirtying the stone floor. Others simply reached out the window and made the gesture. Abu had lost seven siblings in his short life and lost many more friends and peers from school. Those who were older than he, possibly having children and niblings who have suffered a similar fate, completed the ritual with a disturbing, practiced ease that radiated resignation.
“And now that the pleasantries are out of the way…” Constantina said, finally breaking into something of a weary smile, “I think it is time to retire to the living room. Jibriel has generously brought a case of the good stuff for our pleasure, and I doubt that I am the only one who could use its effects.” There was a polite laugh, but no one really felt humor.
Not everyone had cleared their plate. Abu had since living off of grubs, scorpions, thorny cactus berries, and bland rations had taught him to appreciate a proper meal. All the men cleared their plates, actually. It was curious to Abu that it was his elder sister and the two friends of his late sister that did not. Perhaps those who never had to brave the wilderness never learned the value of food? No, that was not true. Every once in a while, one heard the tragic tale of someone dying from starvation. It happened, and it happened most often in remote places like this dust ball of a town. Tragedy was around every corner, but it brought them together. Even in times like this they could find something to smile about.
Actually, when one thought about it that way, maybe the pokegirls were dealing with things the way they were designed to. He knew his aunts had liked all of his siblings