ACL: 46. So Begins the Kingdom of Kush

Chapter 46: So Begins the Kingdom of Kush

Brockton Bay, NH, USA
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Type: Grass

“Hello, Panacea,” Dragon’s voice came through Amy’s phone. She sounded just as unidentifiable as ever. A pleasant enough voice, but with an accent that I couldn’t place for the life of me. “Is Menagerie with you as well?”

I leaned forward slightly. Amy gave me her desk chair because she said my armor was too heavy. It’d leave big butt-prints into her cushy bed, apparently. “I’m here, Dragon. Thanks for getting back to us so quickly. It’s only been a few days.”

“No problem. I must admit, this is an area I’ve never dabbled in. I ended up calling in several favors to get more eyes on this. I can’t help but feel a little excited at what these berries represent.”

“Glad to hear it. What did you find out?”

“I’m calling to inform you of several things. First, oran berries contain chains of enzymes that catalyze the body’s natural healing process. As far as I can find, the enzymes are not harmful in any way. There are even internal controls to ensure they don’t tax the body beyond what it can handle. It’s fascinating stuff.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Amy kicked me in the shins, only to yelp as bare toes met tyrantrum scale grieves. “Ow, shit! You have no idea how smug Menagerie looks right now, Dragon.”

“Now, what’s most amazing about these berries is that I replicated the results on every mammal species used in clinical trials. Dogs, cats, pigs, monkeys, they all showed statistically significant increases in rate of recovery. We’re still keeping them in observation, but as far as we can tell, oran berries increased the body’s natural rate of recovery temporarily and had no other effects since.”

“Wait, hold up,” I said incredulously. “You didn’t test them on actual patients? You know, the sick people who were supposed to get them?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m calling to let you know that unless the animals we’re watching show rapid deterioration in health, we can move forward with human trials this week.”

“That seems… slow…” Then again, I was probably the one with unrealistic expectations. In my old world, this wasn’t “new technology” so much as a series of ancient remedies as old as dirt. What was accepted fact to me had to be verified by doctors, thinkers, and whoever else.

“I know it must be frustrating, but I ask for your patience, Menagerie. We are moving from animal to human trials in just a week. This is remarkably fast, some might say even unfairly so. The PRT has worked out an accelerated experimental track for tinkertech, but some formalities must still be observed.”

“I understand. I’m a little bummed because I know my berries work. Does this come up often? You said there was an approval track for tinkers.”

“No, not really. Tinkertech cannot typically be mass-produced. So far, the only person I can think of who uses this accelerated path as much as you, myself excluded, is Cask, a member of the Anchorage Protectorate in Alaska, and Masamune, a colleague of mine here at the Guild. Cask is the only person who could be considered a biotinker.”

At my confused expression, Amy filled me in. “He’s a biochemical tinker who makes potions. The catch is, you need to drink about two liters of it for it to have any effect. Oh, and the effects are pretty mild. I worked with him a few times in the past.”

“Huh… That sounds inconvenient. I mean, better than nothing, but damn.”

“Yup. It’s why we’re so busy. High-level parahuman healers are rare. Had you joined the Protectorate, you would likely have been transferred out of Brockton to spread us out, probably to the West Coast.”

“Yeah, I think you mentioned that before,” I nodded. I made a face. “Eugh, no thanks. I’m happy right here. We can make berries and potions to distribute to the rest of the country. It’ll take a while but if that’s how it is, then fine.”

“Speaking of your berries,” Dragon interrupted with a polite cough, “I noticed that these berries do not heal diseases, merely relieve symptoms.”

“That sounds about right,” I told her. It wasn’t as if my old world was a utopia. Even pokemon could get sick. They usually recovered quickly, but berries weren’t instant miracle-cures. “I have a few potions recipes I’ll pass along, as well as a host of other berries.”

“Can I get a quick list of berries you want to make?”

“Pecha berries act as a universal antidote. Rawst and cheri berries are great for restoring damaged nerves, though in slightly different ways. Rawst berries are for burns and cheri berries are for paralysis. I’m not too sure about how they’re different though so you’ll have to do some testing.”

“I look forward to it. Truthfully, learning more about your creations is the most fun I’ve had in a while. Biology isn’t my strong suit, but I’m happy to explore a different discipline.”

“I know, right? Let’s hurry up and build a distribution network for oran berries so we can get to the interesting stuff,” Amy said eagerly.

“They will have to go through the same, rigorous testing process as the oran berries, but I concur. Your berries have the potential to affect the general public in ways tinkertech never has before.”

I nodded. “I get it; testing is what it is. For now, are we allowed to make berry trees for ourselves? I’ll also make Amy a few types so she can write you a report on them.”

“Tentatively, yes. You are authorized to create more oran berry trees. However, you may not market them to civilians or otherwise distribute them to the general public.”

“Yes!” Amy crowed, pumping her fist. I had a feeling her bonsai collection would be growing in the near future.

“Speaking of permissions,” Dragon continued, “have you considered speaking with the local PRT? While I’ve been happy to act as your proxy, Menagerie, things are rapidly reaching the point where your involvement would be appreciated.”

I let out a sheepish laugh. As Steven Stone had told me many, many times, I was not a political animal. Negotiating with the government just didn’t come naturally to me, and I was under no delusions that this would be anything other than a negotiation.

“Truthfully? I was hoping I could keep using you as a proxy forever,” I told her. “It’s not like the local PRT needs to know about the berries for you to get them approved in the US and Canada, right?”

“While technically true, they know already.”

“They do?”

“Of course. Part of the accelerated approval process involves cataloging who made the parahuman-derived product. Multiple thinkers were brought in to assist with analysis. Every PRT branch worth mentioning knows.”

“Huh… I’m surprised they haven’t mentioned it.”

“I’m told you’ve been rather busy,” she replied wryly. “I also suspect the heroes have orders to take a wait and see approach. Eventually, they probably figured that you’d come to them. And you will have to. You do want to start an orchard at some point, correct?”

“Yes…”

“That will require land, permits, and a constant rotation of guards to ensure that your berries are not misused. You’ll also need an accountant to handle your finances.”

“Hold on, I thought I couldn’t sell things to the general public. Wasn’t there a law against that? Capes and market shares or something?”

“You are referring to the NEPEA-5. And yes, that’s the gist. However, you will not be selling to the general public. Your primary customers will likely be government agencies. If you happen to give out berries as part of a charitable contribution, then that is something different altogether. Whatever you do, both avenues will require qualified legal and financial counsels.”

“That’s true… Alright, you’ve got a point. Any chance you can introduce me to a good lawyer? And an accountant?”

“I believe Panacea’s mother would be a good person to start with,” she replied wryly.

“Mom’s a criminal lawyer who specializes in parahuman law,” Amy pointed out, “but she’ll probably know people who do corporate law, or whatever this qualifies as.”

I sighed. I could already tell this was going to be a pain in my ass. Still, I didn’t see a way out of it. “That makes sense. We’ll do that.”

“In the meantime, I have more good news,” Dragon said. “Do you recall the blueprints you sent me?”

“Yes, hammerspace bags and teleport pads.”

Of course I remembered. When I first became a porygon, I found that my body contained coded information regarding the development of those two technologies, as well as the recipe list of certain potions.

The porygon line, unlike pretty much every other pokemon species, was entirely man-made. The very first porygon had been made by Silph Co. to aid in data management. The vaunted Upgrade had been developed when Silph turned its gaze to the stars; a porygon-2 was supposed to aid in planetary development.

If I remembered right, Silph dropped their partnership with Devon Corp. and the Mossdeep Space Center following some unfortunate scandals regarding unlicensed porygon code development and testing, the Dubious Disc, as it was popularly called. Still, the porygon-2 remained a stable evolution of the porygon species, and a legacy of Silph’s short-lived space program.

 It was no wonder then that porygon, keepers of Silph’s data, had an in-built understanding of the company’s key product lines. Potions, hammerspace bags, and pokeballs had been the products that propelled Silph to international relevance. Teleport pads had been one of their more recent developments.

I also knew how to build pokeballs, but opted not to give the blueprints to Dragon. There was only one pokemon in Earth-Bet anyway, and no one had the badges to train me.

Dragon proceeded to tell me about how she’d successfully replicated both hammerspace bags and teleport pads. She’d incorporated the storage compartments into her tech, but had yet to build a scaled-down teleporter that could be used in her craft.

“That’s about what I expected,” I said. Not even Team Rocket perfected mobile teleporters and those guys had some annoyingly talented eggheads. “Teleportation pads are huge energy sinks. Any mobile craft isn’t going to have enough energy to power one. At least, not unless you put the teleporter on a frigate or something.”

“That was my conclusion as well. There are also some issues with accurately generating dimensional rifts while in motion, at least relative to the planet. The designs you sent me were clearly meant to be hooked up to a stationary power source, but I am currently working on ways to make it portable.

“Right now, my priority is to find a way to reduce the energy usage to more manageable levels. Then, I plan to build a craft whose sole purpose is to land, connect to a local power source, then deploy itself into a teleportation pad. I believe this will greatly assist with evacuation procedures.”

“That sounds complicated. I’m afraid I can’t help you much. Unless I have access to the porygon form, I’m as clueless about the tech I gave you as everyone else.”

“I thought as much. Actually, I didn’t bring this up because I’d like your advice, but because I owe you money.”

“You do? Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of projects on my end that could use the investment, but I’d be a liar if I came in now and acted like we signed a contract.”

“We did not, but it has been my long-standing policy to compensate tinkers whose plans I draw on for inspiration, provided they are not villains, of course. This is doubly so for plans which have the potential for mass production. Already, some PRT branches and heroes have expressed an interest in your hammerspace tech. Even if we never make the technology publicly available, you can expect a portion of the sales.”

I blinked in surprise. That was unexpected. My gut instinct was to deny the windfall. After all, the berries were one thing, but I hadn’t invented any of this tech. None of it was mine; the brilliant minds at Silph were the ones who were truly responsible. Being compensated for tech I didn’t make, didn’t even understand, felt a little too much like stealing.

And yet… I wasn’t new to the realities of life. Even back home, journeys had to be financed somehow. My team was powerful enough that I could take high paying commissions from various Leagues, but we weren’t always that strong. Sleeping in barns, doing chores for food, that used to be the norm once upon a time.

I thought about all the things I could do with that money. The orphanage always needed help. Sabah and Lisa could probably use seed funding for their atelier as well. And then there was Emily. And the Undersiders. Brian and Rachel were largely taken care of, but whatever Alec decided, money and my increasing fame would likely smooth the process.

I had so many pans in the fire right now. Could I afford to turn her down?

“How would payment work?” I asked her. “I’m currently a minor and I don’t even have a bank account of my own. Even if I did, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to associate ‘Menagerie’ with my civilian identity.”

“You’re touching upon a question many people have asked before,” Dragon said with a quiet chuckle. “Have you ever heard of the Number Man?”

Amy, who’d been dozing off with a bored expression, perked up at that. “I have. He’s a villain, isn’t he?”

“Strictly speaking, he’s a rogue. He just happens to manage the accounts of… less than legal interests…”

“That’s the definition of money laundering, Dragon.”

Dragon coughed awkwardly. Yes, one of the greatest heroes in the world was advocating for the services of an illegal money launderer. “Well, all I can say is that no entity has issued a warrant for his arrest…”

I laughed. “This is one of those ‘necessary evil’ things, isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately so. In any case, I suggest you bring this up with your legal counsel, whenever you acquire one.”

“I will. Thanks for your help, Dragon. I appreciate all the advice you gave me,” I said sincerely.

“You’re welcome. Would you like me to be in attendance when you speak with Brandish? I am happy to explain matters to her.”

“God, yes,” Amy said with a relieved sigh. Truthfully, I felt the same way. Her mom could be intense. “We should bring in Aunt Sarah, too. Otherwise, she’ll ground me forever for ‘conducting illegal biotinkering experiments’ or something.”

“I’m sure your mother will be understanding, Panacea.”

“You don’t know her.”

“Yes, well, when would you like to have this chat?”

“Uh… Mom and dad are out so I guess tomorrow? Sunday is fine, right?”

“That sounds perfect. I stay inside everyday and have no commitments on weekends.”

Plan decided, we cut the call. Amy slumped down in her bed like a stringless puppet.

“Oh, good, that’s done,” she groaned with a tired sigh. She wasn’t a fan of talking to people any more than I was.

“Hey, at least Dragon promised to help talk to Carol,” I reminded her. That honestly was very comforting to hear. “You’ll probably only be grounded until you go to college.”

“Joy…”

“Come on,” I said, standing. “Don’t you want me to make you more berries?”

“Right. Let’s go somewhere else. We can’t make stuff in the backyard or mom will freak out. I need to get some extra planters to hold the bonsai trees anyway.” She gestured to a notepad on her desk. “Gimme. I’m going to leave a note for Vicky so she doesn’t worry.”

“Alright, cool. I’ll wait downstairs.”

X

Amy slapped a post-it note on her sister’s shirt before joining me in front of her house. She was fully kitted out in her costume, something about how it felt more appropriate to be dressed for the part. Biotinkering required Panacea, not Amy Dallon.

“Alright, are we going to go find an abandoned lot again?” she asked.

“That’s the idea,” I agreed.

“Cool, now change into something that’s comfortable to ride.”

“Huh… You know, grass pokemon typically aren’t for riding. Strong enough to carry a human, sure, but most aren’t very comfortable.”

“There was that flying dinosaur thing with bananas growing out of its neck. And meganium. And PHO says you were a big gecko with a christmas tree for a tail?”

“Eh, I don’t know. I don’t like turning into the same pokemon twice. And that was sceptile. The way it moves wouldn’t make for a very comfortable ride.”

“Fine, whatever. Just pick one.”

“Okay, let me think… Oh! I know! Shift, gogoat!”

I hunched over and became the most influential pokemon in Kalos. Yes, Champion Diantha’s ace was a mega gardevoir. Yes, goodra was their pseudo-legendary pokemon. But when it came to the most influential pokemon in Kalosi history, few could contest the humble gogoat.

Gogoat had been bred in Kalos for literal millennia. I remembered reading that taurus were not native to Kalos. Even when taurus were introduced to the region, most farmers preferred their traditional gogoat herds because of how versatile they were.

They were hardy, strong, and had been the very first large livestock pokemon in the region’s history. They provided milk, tilled the land, and, with only minor training, could even nourish the soil with their type affinity. And, because they could sense emotions through their horns, they tended to be less temperamental, or at least more intellectual on an individual basis.

Being one was quite nice. Standing about five and a half feet at the shoulder, I easily loomed over Amy. I laid down and nudged her tummy with my snout.

“Hop on. This thing even comes with padded seats.”

She ran her hands along the grassy pelt on my back, marveling at the soft texture. “Huh… So you do… Did you know that your back-grass is slightly thicker where my butt’s supposed to go? You literally do have your own saddle.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Gogoat have adapted alongside humanity since pretty much the dawn of civilization.”

“The name’s dumb though. Gogoat? Really? Go. Goat.”

“Wait ‘til you hear about arbok.”

“That doesn’t sound bad.”

“It’s ‘cobra’ spelled backwards.”

“And is it a cobra?”

“Big, purple cobra with coils thicker than your thigh and venom strong enough to kill a man a hundred times over. And it’s named arbok. Its pre-evolution is named ekans.”

“Because that’s ‘snake’ backwards… Huh… You know, sometimes, it’s really hard to tell whether you’re fucking with me or not.”

I shrugged ambivalently. “Meh. I just think of it as proof of intelligent design. To me, God is not a distant philosophical concept or the source of moral dogma. God is very real, and he bestowed upon all creation the power to seek him out. We just happen to call it aura.”

“And apparently, he’s an alpaca with a sense of humor.”

“Yup, you get it. Now, hop on.”

She flung one leg over my back and grabbed my horns. “Alright, let’s go.”

We stopped by a hardware store to grab more bonsai planters. They were the cheap ones, four to a set, made of black plastic. And, so we’d be able to lug them home, Amy bought a collapsible wagon as well.

This being the afternoon, I didn’t want to go out of the city so I took us to the abandoned lot we’d commandeered last time. There, I dug a small hole in the ground with my hooves and began to focus.

I’d done this before. As meowscarada, I’d created new life, an entirely new species that couldn’t possibly exist on Earth-Bet. It wasn’t like I was a geneticist, either. I’d just… allowed my instincts to guide me. I focused enough grass type energy into a single Seed Bomb and gently placed it into the dirt.

And I got a shrub for my trouble. To be fair, it was a nice shrub, but it was just a shrub. There was nothing special about it.

“Having performance issues?” Amy giggled.

I shifted back just so I’d have the digits to flip her off. “Shut it.”

“Why didn’t it work?”

“I think I know. Some grass type pokemon are better at this kind of thing than others. Gogoat don’t typically grow plantlife, they’re more commonly used to nurture the soil, so it feels a bit clunky.”

“Okay, so something else then? You have grass so that should include the weird cat-thing, right?”

“Right. Let’s try again with a different pokemon.”

I took a few minutes to experiment. We found out that most other regional starters could also grow new berries. I thought it was a starter-exclusive thing, maybe because they could learn Grass Pledge or Frenzy Plant.

Additionally, tropius, arboliva, and a few other pokemon also had green thumbs. Arboliva specifically could also make olives, and more easily than other plants, which I did. It was as if various types of olives were the default setting for that pokemon. Weird, and tasty.

And, just for fun, I tested and saw that scovillain could make some of the hottest chili peppers known to man. I dared Amy to eat one, only for her to snack on them like popcorn. It took me a second to realize she was forcibly denaturing the capsaicin in the peppers with her power.

In the end, the results of our little experiment were inconclusive. There was an additional layer of complexity when it came to grass type affinities that I didn’t fully understand. I wanted to ask Victini, but she was gone for the day. She said she’d be traveling to Hoenn to visit Titania in Petalburg Forest.

No matter. Amy got the berries she wanted. She had a full bonsai collection now, with rawst, pecha, cheri, chesto, lum, aspear, and persim berries to cover all status conditions I was used to. Her personal favorite was, of course, a lum berry tree.

According to her, the lime-like fruit had an enzyme that restored the homeostasis of the body. My basic bitch biology took that to mean that by rebalancing hormone levels and whatnot, the berry reenabled neuron activation, curing paralysis, poison, forced sleep, etc. There was a whole lot more that Amy talked about, but it all went over my head.

“As long as you’re happy, Ames,” I told her as we dragged her bonsai collection back towards her house.

“I am. This is officially the coolest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” Amy said with a genuine smile. She dragged a red wagon behind her.

“Good. You know, you’re going to have to write up seven whole reports, one per berry.”

“Shut up, just let me have this.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Author’s Note

Dragon is, by code fiat, not allowed to assist villains. She is, also by code fiat, required to obey lawful authority. She therefore identifies the Number Man as a “financial services professional of questionable character.”

I am probably going to skip the chat with Carol. I’m leaning heavily on fanon here, but legal stuff isn’t really my thing anyway.

History Fact: The title refers to the Kingdom of Kush, which was an actual nation, not just a pun on weed. It came to prominence in the Nile River valley along what is today Southern Egypt and Sudan. For a time, Kush used to be a rival to ancient Egypt.

In fact, in the 8th century BC (800-700BC), King Kashta of Kush peacefully became the king of Upper Egypt. His successor, Piye, invaded Lower Egypt, establishing Egypt’s twenty-fifth dynasty. They were eventually conquered by the Assyrians, like much of the known world at the time.