Altered Worlds
The Creation Trio stepped out of the dimensional portal onto a busy human street. All around them, humans walked passed on their daily business, some carrying or walking with Pokémon, others focused on daily tasks. If any of them happened to be surprised at the sight of several meter tall legendary deities appearing out of nowhere, they were polite enough to not gawk or scream.
As usual, Dialga took the lead, stepping ahead of his brothers and sniffing the air. “Palkia,” he called over his shoulder, “what place is this?”
The spacial Pokémon cocked its head in thought as it processed the information. “We appear to be in the city San Francisco in the human country the Pacific States of America. But… something smells a bit off.”
Dialga furrowed its brow. “The Pacific States of America, is that a region? I’ve never heard of it.”
Raising its massive shoulders, Palkia shrugged. “The region is apparently called ‘California’, but I’ve never been here before. Space feels weird here, that’s about all I can say.”
Giratina snickered. Dialga shot it a sharp glance but then turned back to Palkia. “Can you tell anything about who or what summoned us here? I had believed it was someone using a Red Chain, but I cannot sense its power nearby.”
“Me neither.”
“I guess we’ll have to ask the locals, then. Let’s see if we can find a café.”
The three legendary Pokémon began a stroll down the street, taking in the sights. The neighborhood was nice and clean, filled with flowering trees and tall, closely packed buildings. Women walked along the streets wearing sandals and beautifully coloured kimono, often with small, cute Pokémon in the arms or walking on the street beside them. A Pikachu in the arms of a young girl acknowledged them with a wave of its chubby arm and Dialga bowed its head in response.
As they walked, Dialga wrinkled its nose as the scent of ozone wafted across its face, but the smell was gone as quickly as it came. Turning its head, Dialga spied a café with a large outdoor terrace and motioned its brothers to join him as it sat by a table. A Gardevoir came out to take their orders and Giratina surprised them by ordering green tea for all three of them.
Dialga raised an eyebrow. “I never would have taken you for a tea person.”
Hissing with laughter, Giratina reclined backwards and looked at its brother with a creepy grin. “You will have to take my word for it that the tea here is excellent. Besides, I didn’t want to sit here and wait for fifteen minutes while Palkia summoned up the courage to talk to a girl, even if she is just a waitress.” Palkia blushed, but offered no reply to its brother’s taunt.
While waiting for the tea, Dialga amused himself by watching his surroundings. Spending time in the human realm was always a breath of fresh air, and he enjoyed interacting with the people and the Pokémon. A poster plastered to a nearby fence caught his eye: a painting of chubby children waving flags and smiling. Underneath was written “With the help of Japan, China, Australia, and America, the world can be in peace.”
“Palkia,” the temporal Pokémon asked conversationally, gesturing at the sign, “is that language commonly used here?”
“Oh, uh, hmm, no, I don’t think so, that is,” Palkia stammered. “It’s written in Japanese, but I thought they used the Latin alphabet in America.”
Giratina snickered again and Dialga turned its head towards it sharply. “Is something funny to you?”
“No, no,” Giratina hissed. “Just wondering why you care about the human languages so much. We can understand them no matter what they say, and our own language is superior anyway.”
The sound of a sudden explosion took Dialga’s attention before he could respond to its brother, and he whipped his head around towards the source: a television set inside the café. Not a real explosion after all, just the tv, but it appeared to be a news broadcast and not an action movie. Dialga caught the waitress’s attention and asked her to turn up the volume so he could watch. The report was apparently coming from another region to the west, another isolated battle in the mountainous central region of America between the Pacific States and their Nazi-governed neighbors.
Gardevoir saw Dialga’s attention and bowed her head respectfully. “Do not be concerned, my lord. The Nazis may continue to strike against us here and there, but the glorious Greater Japanese Empire will persevere, as always. Our kind emperor will see us through.” She smiled. “Your tea is almost ready.”
The scent of ozone wafted across Dialga’s nose again, and suddenly everything became clear. “That smell.” It shot a dark glance at Giratina. “It’s the smell of distortion. That’s what Palkia said felt weird here. Did you do something?”
“Who, me?” Giratina asked innocently. “What do I care for human wars?”
“You mean, aside from your general desire to stir chaos and cause destruction?”
“Kahkahkah, you know me too well, brother of mine. But this change is such an improvement, I promise. The Nazis and the Japanese Empire, they’re nice folks, really. They may have killed a few million innocents, but the tea is much better in this country now, I promise you that.”
Dialga rolled its eyes. “You know you can’t just alter the human dimension as you see fit. We have law and order to uphold.”
Without waiting for a reply, Dialga closed its eyes, mentally transporting itself to its own realm where it could study the flow of time at its leisure. Physically, he stayed in the same spot at the café. The Gardevoir was coming out to bring their tea, but then she was walking in reverse, backing into the café. Time began flowing backwards as Dialga felt its way through the currents, reading the intrusions on the time continuum where Giratina’s changes had afflicted change. He saw the invasion of the America by the Japanese army in reverse, soldiers bravely marching backwards towards the sea, bullets flying out of people’s wounds as their blood seeped back into their bodies.
The television at the café was Dialga’s immediate source of knowledge of the outside world. Even as events in real time played in reverse, he was able to follow events from around the world as the war unfolded. The further back in time Dialga traveled, the more it was able to sense Giratina’s influence, like the smell of a rotting wound. At some point, Giratina had been able to sit back and watch the chaos unfold, but in the beginning he had needed to be more assertive in setting up the proper conditions, and his meddling grew more and more visible as Dialga continued backwards.
There. With a force of will, Dialga froze time. It had finally reached the point where Giratina’s meddling had begun: the assassination of an American president. The stench of distortion was almost nauseating. With a massive roar, Dialga flew back in time, coming to rest next to Giratina in the middle of a city park, several decades in the past.
Giratina’s eyes flew open angrily at the site of its brother. “You! But–”
“But nothing,” Dialga replied, stamping a foot in anger. “You know better.” It roared again, loudly, cancelling the distortion in the city. Moments later, a shot rang out, missing the president. Bowing its head at its brother, it slipped back through time to the present day.
Dialga opened its eyes again. It was still sitting at the café with Palkia and Giratina on opposite sides of him around the table. The Gardevoir was walking towards them, tray of tea in hand. What has happened? Did nothing change after all? Dialga whipped its head around, scanning the surrounding area. The Japanese language poster was gone, replaced with an advertisement for a local concert. Pedestrians still walked the streets, but did so in modern clothing, no kimono in sight. It breathed a sigh of relief.
“Your tea is here, gentlemen,” Gardevoir announced, smiling happily. “Enjoy it, and have a great day!”
“Wh-wh-what just happened?” Palkia stuttered after the Gardevoir had left them alone again. “There was a jolt and suddenly it doesn’t feel so weird around anymore.”
Dialga grinned. “Oh, I just had to fix a few things, that’s all.”
Giratina grumbled into its tea. “If I knew you would be so fast, I would have ordered something else to drink.”
“This tea suits me just fine, I think.” As Dialga sipped from a cup, it glanced over and saw the young girl with her Pikachu again. They had finished whatever errand they had been sent on and were walking back home. The girl’s attire was different, but her hair and manner told Dialga it was the same girl, and her Pikachu acknowledged Dialga once again, waving its chubby arm. As Dialga nodded its head in return, it happened to see a glint around the Pikachu’s neck. It had a red necklace made out of a suspiciously familiar chain. Before Dialga could say or do anything, the girl and her Pikachu had turned a corner and were out of sight.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Alternate WWII stories where the Axis powers were victorious are rather common. Unfortunately, I did not really have the time to do a lot of research on the subject, or make a full alternate history of my own, so I based this particular scenario off of the universe in Philip K. Dick’s The Man in the High Castle, the only book in this particular alternate history genre that I’ve have a chance to read personally. It’s a very good book and comes highly recommended.
KoN is right, THANKS, ATHENA!!! Of course we all pitched in, but it was Athena's text there, so congrats!
