It’s Not Pink, It’s… Lightish Red

The Interview

With a satisfying click, my cassette tape whirs to life. Placing it on the table between us I notice my subjects eyes flick to the device and then back to meet my own. This always happens, casual talk is easy, being on the record is another matter entirely. Before I can begin my interviewee hands me a note instructing me that she will be going by an alias for the interview, I nod an acknowledgement and make a mental note to rewrite my notes with this alias when we’re done.

She regards me with flinty, grey eyes. When I first heard her speak it was a shock, she has the kind of melodious and refined voice you might expect to hear from the upper crust of Galarian society, not at all the usual accent one associates with Fuchsia City.

“My name is Karin,” she says, putting emphasis on the name. I nod, encouraging her to go on. She looks like she’s about to speak before she thinks better of it, instead she takes a large coconut, complete with miniature umbrella, from the table. She swirls the concoction within for a moment before taking a long pull of the fruity mixture through a straw. A crazy straw. I try not to smile at the juxtaposition of her serious expression and the ridiculous drink. She finishes the drink, sighs deeply and begins again.

“My name is Karin, and I wish to impress upon you the irregularity of this meeting and my reasons for doing so. Fuchsia City requires assistance. We all require assistance.”

I take a moment to look around, taking in the interior of the Star Slingin’ Lasso Swingin’ Tauros Wrasslin’ Party Zone Grill & Microbrewery. (If you’re confused, that’s the name of the bar). Eclectic decorations spot the wall, mounted ninja stars, a replica Dhelmise chandelier, a worn out jukebox, flickering neon lights, a plastic Feebas which sings when you push its buttons, a dartboard with less pockmarked impacts than the wall around it and a tremendous grill. Behind the bar, Kiba leans against a wooden pillar, idly polishing a glass and staring into space. If he hears our conversation he doesn’t show any signs of it.

I try not to look cynical or arch as I ask, “Help with what? Things look to be in order”

If she’s offended she does a good job of not showing it. “With getting this city back on course, we’ve lost our way. Look around you, Cathy, you’re from Kanto, you know what Fuchsia used to be like, we were a venerable city, we may have been a little behind the times but we were steadfast and respected.”

I nod, processing her meaning. There’s no denying Fuchsia has changed much since I was last here. The coastal bluff which the Star Slingin’ Lasso Swingin’ Tauros Wrasslin’ Party Zone Grill & Microbrewery occupies was once a copse of trees older than the city itself.

“Some might say change is good, it breathes life into old things, it’s the nature of existence to change and to grow” I countered, trying not to flinch at the narrowing of her eyes.

“Of course, I’m not denying that, change is good. I am speaking about growth, think of the bonsai tree, think of the Wooloo, rapid growth can be unhealthy if not directed and maintained. And Fuchsia’s growth was rampant and rapid. We’re out of balance, everything here is. We’ve lost sight of the ancient and strong cultural foundations which gave us the strength we once had.” I notice her eyes flick to Kiba for a moment but restrain myself from following her gaze. I’m not even sure she’s aware she did it.

“There’s still the things here that Fuchsia is known for, the Safari Zone, the gym, the preservation zoo-” with a gentle thump and a sigh she sets down the coconut on the table.

“Catherine, I know you mean well, but you’re not local, you don’t see how things have changed. Come, walk with me, I will show you” And with that she’s out of her chair and striding to the door with a grace and swiftness I didn’t think possible in a human being. I grab for my things and stagger to my feet, following her out of the air conditioned Star Slingin’ Lasso Swingin’ Tauros Wrasslin’ Party Zone Grill & Microbrewery and into the blazing heat of the evening.

The Tour

We head out along the boardwalk, the sea breeze is hot, the sun is hot, the water looks cool and inviting. I almost wish I could just leap into the clear waters and forget this interview, I don’t think Karin would appreciate the detour. As we pass through the crowds of tourists, office workers on their lunch breaks and ranch hands looking for a deal I become aware of a steely gaze locked on me from across the pier. One of the newly appointed Fuchsia PD officers. He watches me intently, hand idly resting on the Pokéball on his hip. As I pause for a moment, considering speaking to him I feel Karin take me by the hand and lead me onward, away from the officer.

“How about that for an example?” She asks, pointedly. “Since when does Fuchsia need a police department to protect our town, that was always the role of Gym Leaders and before that the shinobi clans”

Officially, she’s correct, Kanto has always relied on the Gym Leaders and Elite Four to protect towns and their citizens, Fuchsia is the one exception and has been for only a short while. The unchecked influx of sailors, dockhands, trainers and visitors coming with the booming tourism trade required a more marshalled and organised police force in the city, the thriving night life combined with the relatively unsecured borders of the Safari Park necessitated their founding. The opening of the PD was met with minor pushback and quiet indignation from the locals as the majority of the officers were not local residents. As a counterpoint to this, however, I’ve yet to meet a local who has claimed interest in joining the police.

The shinobi might have been a useful tool in the Kanto arsenal in years gone by but the majority of Fuchsia’s issues cannot be solved through subterfuge and moonlit rendezvous any longer.

We step off the boardwalk and into the city limits, as the sun sets the neon lights burst into life, the deep blue sky is pierced by beams of neon pinks, greens and gold. We walk through crowded streets, the dress of the passers-by changes from the beachwear of the boardwalk to the nightwear of revellers and gamblers as we skirt the casino and head north.

“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to a haphazardly painted building. A bearded man and silver haired woman work late into the night, she’s laying roofing tiles on fresh cement as he puts the finishing touches on the sign above the door. Before she can answer me the man steps aside and I my question becomes moot. Kenzo’s Research and Development, the sign reads. The man wipes sweat from his brow, looking at the sign with a fierce pride. Emblazoned on the woodwork is a phoenix, a creature of myth, now known to be based on fleeting sightings of Ho-Oh.

“Another research lab,” Karin answers flatly, “They’re trying to turn us into Saffron”

The name seems familiar but I can’t place it, I take a moment to regret sending Millie to Pewter, she’d have been able to tell me everything I needed to know. As evening turns to night we find ourselves heading north west, back out of town. Together we stand on the cliffs overlooking the area which was once the preservation zoo, now an artificial port. Even in the dark of night it’s clear that this port is a blight on the natural topography of this place. The water churns at the harbour walls, generating a thick and frothy scum, the neon lights reflected in the water distort and twist as they pass over oil slick patches, flotsam, jetsam and the lightly glowing eyes of a Grimer. For a moment I was reminded of the recovery site of Cerulean East.

“These outsiders have no respect for Fuchsia” Karin says.

I don’t try to argue, yet I can’t help but think of Koga and his affinity for poison type Pokemon. Would he be as disturbed by the limited formation of a habitat for his beloved Muk? The ranch hands around Fuchsia are no stranger to home grown antidotes, restoratives and elixirs, the most potent and curative of which were often harvested from the toxins of poison type Pokemon. Is their truly no room for symbiosis here as Karin seems to believe? I’m not so sure.

Final Thoughts At Sunrise

Thinking back on everything I saw yesterday I take a moment to look out over the bay in the light of a new day. A father catches the waves, riding on the back of his Blastoise, trailing behind him are his laughing children, each of them riding a Squirtle apiece. Bikers fresh from the Cycling Road push their bicycles through the streets, talking animatedly about their record times. A ranch hand takes time to herself, relaxing on the beachfront, shedding the heavy leather overalls for a bathing suit. A helicopter thumps with a steady rhythm as it heads west, laden with a tourist group en route to the Seafoam Islands. Chatterbox squawks in merry conversation with Wingull in the fronds of a palm tree, the two of them eyeing the unwatched picnics of beachgoers.

Karin is a passionate woman who cares about her people, her city and her friends. I admire that. I do, however, think that she is a pessimist. I think back to the things I saw today and I see hopeful optimism. A city looking to the future, where dreamers can set up a new workshop, where starry eyed couples and old lovers can walk through the beautiful scenery and stoke the flames of passion beneath the palm trees.

Without tourism and new ventures the ranchers wouldn’t be able to live as freely as they do, the preservation zoo is smaller and now occupies a small area on the north side of the city, not because people no longer care to look after injured or endangered Pokémon but because the funds brought in by the new lease on life Fuchsia allowed their recovery time to be greatly reduced.

Ultimately Fuchsia is a city which is embracing a new view on its own promise. Where that takes it is simply unknown to us all. But I remain hopeful. Until next time, dear reader.