Part 30

30

[3:22 PM. Oswald Hanes’ Personal Log. All recordings property of THE SILPH COMPANY, Saffron City, Kanto. Do not alter or duplicate. Isolated Testing and Observation Center Codename: {FARAWAY ISLAND} Day 128. Begin latest Entry.]

I think they’re on to me.
	Just last night I received word that Lady Violet would be making a personal appearance at Faraway Island to check on my progress. What can I show here? I have nothing to give. She wants answers; she wants results. I need more time. I need Silph to keep their goons away from me—they scare her. If she becomes sufficiently frightened, then the whole day may be lost. I haven’t told her about the visit yet; it’s not a good time. Maybe later. Maybe I won’t even tell her. She wouldn’t like that, but I think it might be for the best.
	Yesterday she spoke again. I didn’t have the camera’s rolling because it was nearly three in the morning, but she did, I swear; she spoke, just like I am into this mic. It’s been nearly ninety-seven days since she last spoke. I’m still kicking myself for not having the mic on. Violet will have my balls for that one for sure. I don’t even remember what she said; I was half asleep when she walked into the lab. She tugged on my jacket, and…all I remember is her talking. Must remember to set mics to constantly record. That means I’ll have to watch what I say in here from now on. Nobody’s here but me and her, and I don’t think anyone’s listening to these, but I can never be too careful.
	Seismographs came through today; this is as close to correct as Silph’s likely to get. For all intents and purposes, this is Faraway Island. It gets lonely sometimes out here, just me and her. At least she has the pokemon of the island. They flock to her for some reason. She has this effect over them that stirs them from their holes and trees and bushes. Possible communication? All previus tests on the subject have been inconclusive. There is no evidence to suggest that it is possible for a human to speak to a pokemon through verbal communication.
	But there’s something about her; it’s special. I feel very old and very young at the same time when I look at her, like I’m looking at a mirror and a recording at the same time. I feel stretched when I look at her. She always has that goofy grin on her face. Note to self: check brain wave pattern during interaction with the child.
	I don’t know what they want from me, honestly. When I signed on, no one told me about any of this stuff. Research and Devolpment. R&D. Ha, that’s a laugh.
	But I can’t stop now. Despite my reservations, there does seem to be progress; Meridian shows signs of increased human responsiveness, indicating that the splice might in fact have not been as botched as Lady Violet had previously thought. Again, need more time to observe. It’s been half a year since I was tossed onto this island, and almost five since Meridian was born. It’s still very early to be looking for anything concrete in her behavioral functions.

[Oswald removes his glasses and cradles his head in his hands.]

	Tommorow’s her birthday, I think; if the records are accurate. Five years old and she’s never had a normal conversation, never not been looked at as anything more than an investment. Tomorrow is Meridian Hanes’ birthday, and I guess Mommy’s coming to visit. She doesn’t even recognize her mother—not that she recognizes me as her father—that would be something to report, but you understand. She just doesn’t know.
	Violet doesn’t much care. She abhorred my calling the girl by her real name the entire time we were in Hoenn. Maybe she can distance herself from her, but I can’t, not when they’ve got me trapped one hundred miles of open ocean from the nearest land.
	Dorian Jr. found out that Violet had volunteered to be the surrogate for Meridian. I can still feel where he punched me. We never even had sex. I don’t even remember how they chose me; all I remember is working out of Cerulean and having to goons come visit me at my apartmenr in the middle of the night. I guess he was after my thesis. Why and how that correlates genetically into Meridian, I’ll never know. Maybe they just needed a donor, and they had no better lead than me. Pretty shitty reason, if you ask me. I guess Dorian Jr. didn’t know about the project, or he’d have been the father. It’s always been Violet’s pet project anyway.

[Hours pass. Oswald returns with a half a bottle of something strong. His coat is off and his collar is undone; his tie is loose. He is drunk.]

	Gotta get out of here, you know? Can’t stay here. I’ll suffocate, or worse. What do they even want out of this? What are they expecting. When Violet came to me with the idea six years ago, it sounded so obvious; so easy. Was I misled? Was I…distracted?
	She never has time for me anymore. Not like there ever was an “us” to begin with, but you’d think with the damn kid, she’d at least look me in the eye or send a card every once in a while. Sometimes I think about her. She’s too old for me, of course, but who says I don’t like that? If I had a dollar for every time I—.

[The recording cuts to static. Someone has clearly gone back and removed the next several minutes. The static ends. Oswald is crying on the desk. There is a quarter of the bottle left.]

	…her legs. What was I saying? Right. Gotta get out. Can’t stay here. They know I’m skittish. Who? They. Whoever sits down and watches these damn things. I know nothings personal—nothing’s private or confidential. For the record, Dorian Silph Jr., you can go fuck yourself.

[Cut to static. Recording resumes approximately seventeen and a half minutes later. Oswald is drenched in sweat.]

	Just vomited—thought you’d like to know.
	Cerulean is the key; I knew that when I was writing my thesis. There’s something about that cave off the cape that we’re overlooking. I can’t trust them to send anyone else, but I need to see it myself. Never could gain entrance as a student.
	Mew and Mewtwo—man and pokemon. I’ve studied all I can from Dr. Fuji’s reports. Not much remain after the fire at Cinnabar and the subsequent volcanic eruption. My report is inconclusive, incomplete. Damn it. Professor Oak found what remained after the eruption, so I guess thanks are in order.

[Oswald raises a mock toast then falls over backwards in his chair, spilling alcohol all over himself.]

	Here’s to you, old man. No one’s even seen Mew for chirssakes. We only know its real for sure because we keep finding DNA everywhere that we couldn’t have if it were not real. You get what I’m saying don’t you, Diary?
	Don’t even get me started on Mewtwo. They say Team Rocket had their hands in some shady cookie jars with that shit, but Silph seems content to plunder the same desserts.
[Several minutes pass as Oswald laughs and hiccoughs.]
	I guess Mew just doesn’t want to be found. Can’t blame him. We’re terrible. Meridian keeps looking up at the sky at night. Don’t know what the hell she’s looking for. Hell, the splicing machine was so old and inefficient, I don’t know if she’s more me or Mew. Guess that’s how it goes. All I hope for her is that she’s more me than Violet. The world could do without another Silph.

[Something distracts Oswald. He places the bottle in front of the camera, obstructing view. For fourteen minutes, there is silence. He returns and pours another drink.]

	False alarm. Something tripped the sensor. Maybe something, probably nothing. I’ll check it out in the morning. My eyes hurt. Maybe I drank too much. Whatever. Gotta prepare for Violet tomorrow. Gotta prepare. Gotta look…
	“Daddy?”
[The microphone catches the soft mewling of a child from outside the shot. Oswald’s hand’s tremble. He drops the glass which shatters on the floor. He runs from view of the camera. Cut to static. When the recording resumes, it is almost morning. Oswald has changed into cleaner clothes. His eyes are red and baggy. He neglected to shave.]
	Violet’s on her way. She’ll want results. I’ll just tell the truth—there’s nothing to report. She’ll hate that.
	Need to get out of here. Can’t stay much longer. After you finish parsing through all this recordings, you’ll know what I plan to do. I can’t stay with Silph for much longer. I need to get me and Meridian out of here; make it Hoenn or Johto. Can’t stay here forever. Can’t let them take her away from me.

[There is a buzzer from behind the man. Oswald inhales, straightens out his shirt and coat, and stares into the camera once more.]

	“That’s her.”

[He places a hand on the camera before standing and leaving. END RECORDING.]