A hole opened up into the real world and Shawn and Mimi hurtled toward it. On the far side stood what looked like a yellow kitchen sponge wearing brown pants and a tie. Mimi and Shawn exchanged a look of disbelief.
"What on earth is that?" the sponge exclaimed, pointing toward the hole and them inside it.
A pink starfish appeared. "Ooooooo - pretty..." it said.
A squirrel, improbably wearing an upside-down goldfish bowl on its head, took one look and stated quite definitely, in a Texas accent heavy enough to drive spikes through bricks, "Whatever it is, it ain't natural!"
"Aiiee-ya!" shouted the squirrel and slammed a karate kick at the enlarging hole of numbers. Which promptly collapsed, leaving Shawn and Mimi inside.
So they didn't fall through into that reality, but went somewhere else instead.
They seemed to have been doomed to come out underwater - the hole reopened and spit them out through something that looked extremely like a laundry chute onto the floor of a submarine. It was yellow, and it appeared to be abandoned, but it was definitely going somewhere...
Shawn looked out of a porthole. A marching band in turquoise and shocking pink uniforms was parading along the sea floor behind a drum majorette dressed in mirrors. It was from the reflections on her outfit that Shawn discovered the submarine was yellow.
Going the other way was a neon fish - a real neon fish whose sides flashed ads for restaurants and upcoming events.
Suddenly streaking past the sub in a classic Superman pose was a vision in lime green tights and a fuchsia and electric blue cape. Sparkling stars trailed in his wake as he aimed directly for a huge jeweled cork rammed into a cliffside rising from the sea floor. He hit it full tilt, causing the cork to give way and pop through, and the ocean began to drain into the hole that was left behind.
The submarine drifted slowly but inexorably toward the hole, which had the usual ones and zeros, but instead of the common black and white, these were in rainbow colors and a variety of constantly shifting shapes, and they pulsed to their own hidden rhythm. And Shawn and Mimi once again fell though to a different reality in the wake of Psychedelic-man.
A small walking flowerpot and a small blue bird looked up at the sky. Two dark objects were hurtling down out of a light-filled square directly at them and both scurried for safety. The bird, who’d barely escaped, turned on her attacker, while the flowerpot cowered in a stand of tall grass.
Shawn and Mimi tumbled through numbers, slid, and were spit out onto the grass of the real world. This time they seemed to have landed out in the true countryside, not just in a city park, and as usual, Mimi’s hat had stayed on.
Directly in front of Shawn’s nose stood a tiny blue bird - a very angry tiny blue bird. “Piplup!” it squawked.
Apparently he’d just missed landing on it and Shawn thought nearly squishing small cute animals could get old in a hurry.
“Piplup!” it said furiously again, then it opened its beak and emitted a stream of bubbles - and suddenly Shawn and Mimi were soaking wet. Mimi squawked, rather like the bird.
“Hey! What do you mean by attacking Piplup!?”
Shawn shook water from his eyes and regarded a girl in pink and black with long black hair with astonishment. She stood, arms akimbo, hands planted firmly on her hips, and looked madder than the proverbial wet hen - which seemed a bit unfair considering she was dry and they weren’t.
“Yeah - leave Dawn’s Piplup alone!” A dark-haired boy in a red hat had come up behind her. “You can’t just go around smashing into people’s Pokémon!”
“We’re sorry...” Leave it to Mimi to play peacemaker. “Sometimes my husband is rather clumsy.” Leave it to her to blame him.
“We fell,” Shawn apologized.
“Out of the sky,” added Mimi.
This, of course, was met with looks of scepticism, but a taller, older boy with crisp dark hair stood up from behind some bushes where he’d been sheltering from the small bird’s bubble attack.
“It’s true - I saw it happen,” he said. “A square opened in midair and they fell out of it, almost hitting Piplup and one of those strange Pokémon we saw yesterday in the process. They couldn’t have stopped if they’d tried.”
Then suddenly he threw himself to his knees in front of Mimi. “Beautiful lady,” he cried, “are you all right?!! Let me help you!”
A light shone from his pocket and a frog appeared out of its glow. The frog stuck up a leg, another glow came from the end of its foot, and it jabbed the boy, knocking him heels over head backwards.
“Croagunk!” it yelled, standing over him. The black-haired girl turned her fierce look on them.
“Can’t you see she’s with someone? Honestly, Brock!”
She apologized to Shawn and Mimi, “Don’t mind him - he’s like this with all the girls - every single one he meets. But I don’t think he’d know what to do with one if he caught one...”
She paused a moment in thought, and the blue bird ran to her to take shelter in her arms. As she stood up with it, she said, “You’d better come with us - anyone falling from the sky probably needs all the help they can get.”
So Mimi and Shawn found themselves once again tagging along.
Later, around a campfire, they explained the adventures they’d had up till the present, and how they’d left their own world and families, as well as Palmon and the other Digimon and Digidestined behind. Brock cooked while they talked; Brock’s cooking might be less elegant than Yamino’s meals, but for something made over an open fire, and partly from scavenged berries, it looked fancier than they had any right to expect, and it smelled wonderfully delicious.
The shorter boy, whose name was Ash, said none of them had noticed anything weird happening before Shawn and Mimi had dropped in from nowhere, but the girl, Dawn, begged to differ.
“Remember yesterday morning, both our Pokédexes went on the fritz?” she said.
“I still say it’s just we have low batteries or something,” Ash countered.
“And I say it’s too coincidental for them both to go wonky at the same time - and then both clear up together,” she shot back. “I’ll grant you one might have a temporary glitch, but not both. Not at the same time.”
This showed signs of settling into an argument, so Shawn decided to derail it before it could get started. He asked the obvious.
“What’s a Pokédex?”
“You mean you’ve never seen one?” Ash asked surprisedly. He pulled out a red device slightly smaller than a paperback novel. “Pikachu!” he called, “come here a moment!”
An odd yellow animal which had been hanging about, and which Shawn had at first taken for a cat, ran over. Now that Shawn could see it better he realized it wasn’t catlike at all; it was ... actually he wasn’t sure what it was. Bright yellow with a red spot on each cheek and a lightning bolt of a tail, it was very cute, but looked like nothing he’d ever seen before.
Ash pressed a button on his boxlike device and a synthesized computer voice said:
“Pikachu. Mouse Pokémon. Pikachu is an electric type Pokémon. If it looses crackling power from the electric pouches on its cheeks, it is being wary.”
Dawn pulled out an identical device in pink and aimed hers at her small bird.
“Piplup,” it said. “Penguin Pokémon. Piplup is a water type Pokémon. It lives along shores in northern countries. A skilled swimmer, it dives for over ten minutes to hunt.”
“That’s what a Pokédex does - it identifies Pokémon. All Pokémon - well, the ones that have been discovered anyway,” said Dawn.
Mimi looked puzzled. “What’s a Pokémon?” she asked in turn.
This was met with bewildered, shocked looks from the three kids.
“Don’t you have Pokémon where you come from?” Brock was astounded.
“No.” Shawn hadn’t meant to bring the conversation to a screeching halt, but he again seemed to have accomplished this. The three kids looked at each other, wondering where to begin.
Ash, never afraid to bite off more than he could chew, decided to give it a shot.
“Pokémon are like animals, only they have extra, special abilities normal animals don’t, rather like your Digimon. They mostly live in the wild, but they can also be raised by Pokémon breeders - that’s what Brock is planning to be. They can be caught and trained for Pokémon battles, which are contests to see not only who has the stronger Pokémon, but who is the better trainer, since winning depends not only on the strength of your Pokémon, but also on how good a bond you have with it, because your Pokémon relies on you to help it choose moves to defeat its opponent and avoid its opponent’s attacks. It’s rather like a coach calling the moves for a sports team. For a good trainer, a Pokémon is more a friend that a pet - that’s definitely how I feel about Pikachu. And I’m planning to be the best trainer ever!”
Shawn blinked. Goals were good, but...
Mimi, however, was charmed. “The best in the world?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Uh, huh. I already have all my gym badges for the Johto, Kanto and Hoenn regions. I’m working on completing them for the Sinnoh region now.”
“Yeah, with Paul one step ahead of you,” Dawn inserted. “Not to mention Gary Oak.”
“Hey!” Ash objected, “just because I lost the last time we battled -”
“And the time before, and the time before that, and before that,” Dawn pointed out.
“Quit arguing,” Brock broke in. “Dinner’s ready.”
Brock had not only cooked for them, he’d made additional food for the party’s Pokémon. The three kids emptied small red and white balls from their satchels and pockets and pressed buttons on the front of these. The balls grew bigger, and sprang open, a light shot out of each and a variety of small and not so small Pokémon appeared - all of them bigger than the ball each had been in, even after it had enlarged. These all settled happily into eating, along with the humans.
The food was as delicious as it had smelled, and for a few minutes silence reigned. But then, curiosity got the better of Shawn.
“How do those balls work anyhow? Some of the Pokémon are a lot larger than the ball they came out of.”
“Here.” Ash tossed an empty Pokéball, which had shrunk down again, over to Shawn. He picked up another one and contemplated it himself. “Pokéballs work by - ” He stopped.
“- You know, I’m not sure how they work,” he said. “Brock?”
Brock pick one up and looked at it in thought. “I’ve never thought about it before - I haven’t a clue. I don’t even know who invented them. The Devon Corporation produces a wide variety, but...” He, too, broke off in puzzlement, and passed the ball to Dawn who looked equally blank.
“Well, it’s electronic,” she said. “I think. I mean, I know how it works, but not how, if you take my meaning. If you want to catch a wild Pokémon, you battle it first to weaken it, then you activate the Pokéball by pressing the button, and throw it at the Pokémon you’re trying to catch. It traps the Pokémon inside and stores it - except sometimes the Pokémon escapes - and then it shrinks down so you can carry it around more easily. Carrying the Pokémon you’ve caught with you is how you make friends with it. So, anyway, when you’re battling, you activate your Pokéball and toss it to release your Pokémon, and if you need to recall one from battle, you activate the ball again, hold it up and say ‘Piplup - or whoever - return,’ and the light comes out and sweeps your Pokémon up into the Pokéball for storage. But I have no ideal how it actually does all that.”
They all looked at the Pokéballs.
“Gotta be electronic,” Ash muttered.
Unknown to them, a dozen eyes regarded them surreptitiously from the undergrowth. Half a dozen mouths whispered back and forth to each other like wind blowing through grass. Six minds focused on the Pokéfood Brock had cooked, and thought, “Yum!
At a different angle to the clearing, four more pairs of eyes also watched hungrily.
“It’s been hours since our last meal...” a female voice despaired.
“It’s been days!” a male one answered.
“Well, if you two’d just learn to cook!” The first voice turned waspish.
“Hey, I shared my last candy bar with youse yesterday. Don’t that count for sumthun’?” a third voice defended. A fourth, looking at the lovely meal, just hopelessly whispered, “Wobbuffet...”
Meanwhile, the earlier dozen eyes had come to a decision. One pair of eyes gave a signal...
One moment everyone was contemplating Pokéballs, the next Shawn suddenly found himself unexpectedly lost in a snowstorm of flower petals. Mimi screamed, and he reached to protect her.
Ash yelled, “Staravia, blow them away with Gust!”
A black bird of a Pokémon flew up and whipped up a whirlwind with its wings, scattering the petals, but it was too late; the attack was already underway, and succeeding.
Half a dozen plants in flowerpots on short, stumpy legs descended on the Pokéfood, shrieking, “Dayzee!” In arms made from leaves on stems they scooped up as much food as they could while running full tilt, and took off for the opposite side of the clearing, stuffing their mouths as they ran. As they disappeared back into the bushes, the last one turned, shrieked “Dayzee!” once more, and stuck out its tongue as if to say, “Nah-nah-nah-nah-boo-boo!” before scuttling off.
Dawn still had her Pokédex out and had the presence of mind to activate it. Into the echoing silence left behind the attack it said:
“Dayzee. Flowerpot Pokémon. Dayzee is a grass type Pokémon that lives in meadows and at the edges of forests. Dayzees have a mischievous sense of humor, but are usually shy and rarely seen.”
“...Aren’t those what we saw yesterday, when our Pokédexes malfunctioned?” Dawn asked of no one in particular.
Farther back in the undergrowth Meowth was already plotting.
“Just think, the Boss can put one of those Dayzees on his windowsill where he’ll see it every morning. He’ll wake up, stretch, smell the flower, and say, ‘Ah, Team Rocket has added brightness to my day and joy to my life. I’m so lucky have them.’ ”
“And he’ll be so thrilled he’ll reward us handsomely,” Jessie purred, her empty stomach forgotten.
“But only if we catch one first.” James was more practical, if not outright pessimistic. “I don’t know - they moved pretty fast...”
“Don’t be silly!” Jessie snapped. “We’re not going to chase them, we’re going to trap them!”
So Team Rocket retreated up the road a piece where they could dig a hole undisturbed.
Team Rocket has hole digging down to an art form - after all they’ve dug a lot of them over the years. They have inventing stupid disguises and quickly made props down to an art form as well, so it was the work of moments to come up with a ruse to lure the Dayzees, not to mention the twerps, over the top of their pit. Actually digging the hole, of course, took a bit longer since you can only rush physical labor so much unless you plan to keel over dead.
Still, in a surprisingly short time Team Rocket had a pit dug where the path met up with a flowing stream. The trap had been carefully disguised with branches and leaves, and they’d spread a net across the bottom just in case anyone got any bright ideas about trying to escape. They’d also decked Meowth out in an apron and chef’s hat.
“Why me?” he protested.
“Because you sound like a pushcart vendor and you can cook - at least sort of - and James can’t!” Jessie bossed.
“But how do you plan to get them over here when we don’t actually have any food in the stand?” James asked perplexedly.
“We’re going to advertise, of course,” she said, getting out two sandwich boards, floppy hats and sunglasses.
Meanwhile Ash, Brock and Dawn, Mimi and Shawn had tidied up the remains of the disaster and salvaged what food they could. They’d managed to save enough that they’d fed all the Pokémon by dint of also splitting up and sharing their own meals.
Now they had a map of the entire Sinnoh region spread out. On the reverse side was a large section of the Pokémon world, including the Johto and Hoenn areas, as well as the Kanto where Ash and Brock had originally come from. As far as Mimi and Shawn could tell, neither New York, nor Tokyo, nor anywhere else they were familiar with existed in this world. Certainly none of the names of the cities were anything they recognized.
“Well, the closest town is that way,” Brock said, pointing. “That’s where we’re heading and if you come with us maybe someone at the Pokémon Center will know how to help you. They’re open specifically to aid anyone with Pokémon, but they won’t turn anybody away. The Nurse Joys who run them are incredible!”
He’d gotten a starry-eyed, lost-in-space look suddenly and Dawn swatted him on the head.
“Focus, Brock!”
“It’s too bad we didn’t get a chance to catch one of those Dayzees,” Ash added, packing up. “That Petal Dance attack was pretty powerful.”
“Is that what it was?” questioned Mimi. “Lillymon does something similar but she shoots out vine strings that wrap things. Petal Dance was pretty, though - like a rainbow - and it smelled good besides. Lillymon would’ve liked it.”
At last everything was packed away and they set off. Six hidden flowerpot-like Dayzees, seeing the chef of their dreams disappearing down the road, began surreptitiously to follow.
Some time later they rounded a bend in the road and looked down a hill where the land fell away toward a small riverbank to a slow moving stream that wound away between grassy banks. Shawn, seeing the unexpected there, blinked, rubbed his eyes, blinked again, glanced over at Mimi to double check that she too was seeing it - and wondered what a New York City pushcart vendor was doing set up out here in this wilderness. But there he was, with his portable grill, and he must’ve been doing all right for himself because he’d hired two hucksters to shout slogans for him, who were wearing mirror sunglasses and floppy-brimmed hats, and sporting “Eat at Joe’s” signboards over their shoulders.
“Get ’em while they’re hot! Best food in town!” called the male, who had blueish hair peeking out from under the edge of his hat.
“Best food out of town! Best on the road!” cried the female, whose red hair was also creeping out from where she’d jammed it up under her hat.
Shawn didn’t actually smell anything cooking - maybe the wind was wrong? Somehow, something didn’t feel quite right...
Dawn had no such qualms. She looked at Brock and wondered aloud, “Do you suppose we could take some with us? To eat later? Those Dayzees rather did a number on our supplies...”
The fickle Dayzees, still in hiding, seemed to have no doubts either. A hurried consultation took place and suddenly six flowerpots broke cover to race toward the stand. As they reached a leaf-strewn section of the road directly in front of it, the ground seemed to tremble, and then before Shawn’s unbelieving eyes the path - simply - disappeared...
Five Dayzees were gone from sight, though a terrified chorus of intertwined “Zee!” and “Day!” had broken out. A sixth Dayzee had grabbed the edge of the pit that had opened up in the path and was hanging on for dear life; Shawn had gotten a momentary glimpse of its huge shocked eyes before it slipped from view. He heard it squeal and reflexes he didn’t know he had took over. A dive like he was racing to slide below a fast ball thrown to home plate, and he’d grabbed the terrified Dayzee in a firm hold, and was staring into its wide frightened eyes as he hung upside down off the ledge with its edge cutting into his waist. In a twinkling Mimi has thrown herself down on her knees beside him, seized him by the belt and shirt collar, and, bracing herself, hauled him and the frightened Dayzee back up to safety.
“Hey! How dare you rescue our Dayzees!”
Shawn rolled onto his side and gaped up at the redhead whose hat, unlike Mimi’s, had fallen off letting her hair tumble to her waist. The blue-haired man, who still had his hat, said, “We should’ve known you twerps would try to interfere...”
Shawn could hear Ash yelling, “You leave those Dayzees alone!” from behind him.
“You just leave us alone, little boy!” the redhead yelled back.
Gaping, and totally flabbergasted, Shawn asked, “Who the hell are you?!?”
The two whipped off their signboards. Underneath the woman was wearing a white miniskirt and midriff jacket marked with a large bright red R over a black crop top. It showed off her legs and bellybutton to perfection and Shawn found himself gaping for an entirely different reason.
She tossed aside the sunglasses and shouted, “Prepare for trouble!”
The blue-haired guy joined in with, “Make it double!”
“To protect the world from devastation!”
“To unite all peoples in our nation!”
“To denounce the evils of truth and love!”
“To extend our reach to the stars above!”
“Jessie!” she cried.
“James!” he answered.
“Team Rocket blasts off at the speed of light!”
“Surrender now or prepare to fight!"
The chef, who looked remarkably catlike close up, added, “Meowth! That’s right!”
And a large blue balloon with eyes stuck its head up from behind the cart and finished the chant with “Wobbuffet!”
Shawn continued to stare up at the belly button. He was vaguely conscious of Ash and his friends exclaiming “Team Rocket!” in the background. He was more aware of the fact that Mimi was also taking note of the belly button - and of his expression as he looked at it.
Mimi was suddenly on her feet above and in front of him, her legs braced apart. He had an unexpected view up her skirt and Shawn found himself swallowing.
“You leave my Shawny alone!” Completely unaware of his predicament, Mimi was bravely getting in the stranger’s face. After having stood up to a wide variety of evil Digimon in her day, hot tramp redheads in slut clothes didn’t phase her in the least. And she didn’t blame Shawn for looking - once in a while a guy’d have to be dead not to look - but if this attention-seeking female thought Shawn’s attention was free for the taking, she had another think coming as far as Mimi was concerned. Besides, these people had just trapped a bunch of walking plants - Palmon was essentially a walking plant and so Mimi had just discovered she had a soft spot for these Dayzees, in spite of their annoying habit of stealing picnic lunches. She was well and truly ticked off.
“Let’s make this easy - why don’t you just hand that Dayzee over to me?” the woman commanded, looking down at Shawn.
Mimi moved to protect the Dayzee in Shawn’s arms, cutting off his view of the belly button, but improving his view of her legs. “I don’t think so!” she shot back.
“Then we’ll just have to take it from you,” Jessie purred. But then her eyes focused on something behind them...
“They’re getting away! James! Meowth! Wobbuffet! Pull up the net!”
The panicked Dayzees had taken advantage of the momentary diversion to try hoisting part of their number up and out the far side of the pit. Meowth and Wobbuffet leaped to start heaving on the net which slowly began to rise, collecting Dayzees on the way up.
James however wasn’t paying attention. Lost in a daydream, he stared at Mimi. She was beautiful, with huge brown eyes and long brown hair; soft where Jessie was hard, but obviously no pushover - and he’d always liked strong women; he wouldn’t have partnered with Jessie otherwise. And this woman had the most delicious hat...
“James!”
Oh, right ... Jessie ... I’m supposed to be helping Jessie catch Dayzees... James fumbled his way back to reality to find Jessie looking at him impatiently. She already had an empty Pokéball out and activated, and was waiting for him to do the same. Meowth and Wobbuffet almost had the net of Dayzees up to the bank. What had he missed?
In the background he could hear the twerp calling “Pikachu! Thundershock attack!” That usually wasn’t good...
But Jessie was looking at the pink-hatted woman in front of her. “He may be holding it, but you can’t catch it - you don’t have a Pokéball. So we’ll just take it...” she pointed out.
That’s right, they’d better both have a ball out because if the Pokémon escaped the first ball and he wasn’t ready with a backup, Jessie’d kill him for sure. Or worse. James fumbled an empty Pokéball out and activated it. He focused on the Dayzee and threw...
...just as Jessie lobbed hers...
...and just as Pikachu’s thundershock wave hit both of them, along with Meowth, Wobbuffet, the pushcart...
The two Pokéballs collided, they sprang open and the light from each one crossed with the other’s. One swept the Dayzee up, out of Shawn’s arms, just as the backwash from Pikachu’s thundershock impacted with the balls’ twinned energy fields. The red light from the second ball flickered momentarily with pouring numbers. The first ball, now containing a Dayzee, shrank down as it was supposed to, but the second, deprived of its hoped for Pokémon, and already rendered unstable by the three way collision between twin Pokébeams and the Thundershock attack, responded to the chaotic state currently existing in the Digiworld. Its electronics, knocked momentarily out of control, lurched to right themselves and latched onto a piece of irregularity.
The beam flickered again with numbers and settled into zeros and ones. Then the ball, with its software knocked askew by the Digiworld’s instability and still trying to follow its own programming, focused on the nearest objects it could find. The light shot out, and swept up two bodies...
Shawn found himself clutching the first red and white Pokéball instead of a Dayzee. A reddish light was surrounding him and Mimi and the now familiar numbers were appearing. Everything seemed to grow larger - or else they were shrinking - then the light pulled them forward into a round sphere whose walls were made of insubstantiality and glowing numbers.
The last thing he and Mimi heard was “Team Rocket is...” then the Pokéball shrank down, as it should, and fell through a midair window of digits to disappear from reality.
“...washing away again!” finished Jessie, James and Meowth, as they floated downstream. Thundershock had knocked them, with their pushcart, off the bank into the river.
The Dayzees in the net had fallen back into the pit. So, in the real world, Ash, Brock and Dawn, along with their Pokémon, set about pulling them out.
Back in the real world Izzy was on the phone to Tokyo - he needed to bounce ideas off Tai. Of course, it was another expensive conference call that included everybody, but most of the conversation had been between himself and Tai with the various Digimon joining in and Kitsune offering the occasional comment based on the information he’d pulled up.
“Well, if the balance between data, virus, and inoculation programs has been disturbed -” Izzy was saying.
“Gone wacko, you mean?” Tai interrupted.
“Yeah. Theoretically, what would happen?”
“Theoretically? Well ... the Digiworld would go wacko, too - or at least more wacko than usual. You gotta admit, it’s always been rather wacked at the best of times...” Tai was thinking out loud - brainstorming really - and as such there was a stream of consciousness feel to his conversation. “But can it get unbalanced to begin with? Out of sync? Wouldn’t it just spit out more evil Digimon - or more good ones - instead?”
“Well, theoretically, it should be a self-regulating system - too much virus and it’ll produce more vaccine programs to fight them - that’s why our Digimon appeared and hooked up with us after all. Too much vaccine programming and not enough virus software, the vaccine will have nothing to eat, so to speak, and die off...” Izzy was also thinking out loud. “It should keep itself in balance - it shouldn’t be able to go out of sync.”
“Wait -” T.K. had snagged an idea. “- It’s the Gaia theory - well, sorta - not exactly...”
His statement was met with blank looks in Tokyo and blank silence in New York.
“Look, the Gaia theory holds that the earth itself is a living organism. If it got sick - say from pollution - it’s going to send something to destroy what’s making it sick - people for instance - in order to be healthy again, the same way your body sends white blood cells to fight off infection. So, yeah, the idea is that the world can get sick, but it’s also going to try to get healthy again - your self-regulating system. See, the one doesn’t necessarily exclude the other, so it follows that the Digiworld could get out of balance but that it’ll also regain that balance. The ratio of virus to vaccine will keep each other in check because one can’t survive without the other.”
“So this could’ve come about because the Digiworld is seeking to rebalance itself?” Izzy wondered.
“Maybe...”
“Where does data fit into this then?” Izzy asked. “That’s a big part of the Digiworld, too.”
“Only a whole third of it,” Palmon interjected. “I should know - I’m data. Even as Lillymon I’m a data Digimon, not a vaccine. You’re thinking of a teeter-totter - a see-saw - but it isn’t, it’s a triangle.”
“Of course!” Tai slapped his head. “Three point are always in one plane. I remember that!”
“Huh?” - it was a lot of “huhs” at once from a lot of different voices.
“Matt, you were in geometry with me - surely you remember the teacher cramming that down our throats,” Tai continued; but it was Kitsune in New York who got it.
“Oh, duh! That’s why a camera sits on a tripod. I knew that - I knew it! What was I thinking?” It was his turn to get blank looks.
He tried to explain by saying, “Look - if you have two points, you have a line and - well, in theory it has no width - but forget that for a moment. Think about trying to balance a sheet of paper on edge - it’s going to tip to one side or the other. And with four points, think of a four-legged chair and how often you’ve sat on one that has a slightly short leg so it keeps wobbling back and forth. That’s because the points where the legs touch the ground aren’t all in the same plane. But with a three-legged stool all three legs are always in contact with the ground, no matter how long or short each one is. Or how uneven the ground is for that matter. The three points are always in one plane - they can’t not be. The plane may tilt, but it always accommodates all three points. So cameras are always mounted on tripods because a tripod is the most stable base there is.”
And T.K. in Tokyo responded, “ See, it is a self-regulating system - it can’t get out of balance.”
“Except, of course, that it has,” Matt said with a cold dash of reality. “Sorry, little bro, but something threw it off.”
And Joe, who’d been thinking the whole time without saying much, suddenly had an epiphany. “Unless one leg of the tripod disappears... What if it goes from three to two? We’re suddenly trying to balance that paper...”
“What if all three are necessary to the continued existence of the Digiworld?” T.K. wondered aloud. “I mean, we’ve always thought of the virus type of Digimon as just bad-ass troublemakers, but what if they’re a necessary part of the whole. I mean, if it was created from data, virus and vaccine, maybe it stays in existence due to all three as well...”
And Joe made the connection. “Brahma, the creator. Vishnu, the preserver. Shiva, the destroyer. Vaccine, data, virus.”
Into the echoing silence, Kitsune said, “Energy is neither created nor destroyed - its state is changed, right? I read that somewhere - it’s neither created nor destroyed, it just has its form changed. Like electricity is converted to heat or light for instance...”
“It can be stored: preservation,” responded Joe. “It can be transformed - one form is created and another is destroyed. Brahma and Shiva continually dance the creation and destruction of the universe, but the universe continues - and energy itself isn’t destroyed, only the form it’s in. ...It’s the second law of thermodynamics,” he added.
“So where does that get us?” said Tai, bringing this metaphysical discussion back to earth. “Exactly nowhere.”
Kitsune threw his head back against his chair, closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. He was a writer, not a physicist, and he felt like he’d absorbed more science in the last twenty-four hours than he had in the previous sixteen years.
“It means they still exist somewhere,” Agumon said.
Kitsune looked up.
“Yeah...” he said.
And then more hopefully, “Yeah. They do. We just gotta find them.”
