Ash and Pikachu: The Atlas Quest

"What?"

That's what I said when the old man handed me the Atlas. I didn't want it, and I certainly didn't need it.

"It's yours," he had said. "You're a hero."

I didn't want to be a hero. In fact, if I could go back in time and fix my past, that was one thing I would do right away. Being the best trainer meant getting out there and doing the work; fighting with the Pokèmon, training them, learning their secrets. The more you knew about your partner, the stronger you became together. It was just like a marriage. But my wife hadn't understood. She thought I would change. And she'd been right about that, at least.

I'd left her for a better life: a simpler life where I could live simply and breathe fresh air without wondering if some child or their father was watching me for an opportunity to steal me blind or worse.

I'd wanted to get lost in Italy, but I was finding myself lost instead.

"Let me make this clear," I had said to the old man who gave me the Atlas. "I don't want this."

"But you must," he insisted again. "You're a hero."

I turned away from him finally, walking into my new home - a small house that sat on top of a hill overlooking the Italian countryside - and shut the door behind me before locking it up tight. Then I went inside to survey my new living space for any signs of intruders who might have followed me here from my old life across the seas in America. In truth, there really wasn't much to find except for a few boxes of cheap dishes and utensils stacked beside a small table shoved into a corner by the window overlooking the valley below. There were two broken chairs sitting on top of a rickety wooden floor, no television or radio, and only one bed pushed against the far wall with an old steel frame begging for replacement as soon as possible. It was sad but true - no one wanted to live here anymore because they had finally given up on this little town that used to flourish with visitors flocking here from all around Europe during its heyday in antiquity back when it was called Rome. Things changed once civilization moved west to Constantinople then north to Paris then east again to London then New York...but Rome died out along with other towns like it once people decided they needed more than what this place could offer them anymore: time machines and hover cars and holograms of whatever celebrities they wanted or thought about having sex with next week or whenever else they could think of needing or wanting something ridiculous at any given moment in time...and so why bother going from America where everything is big and bright and loud all over again? Why not move somewhere quiet where you can hear yourself think? Where all you need is water and food? Where you can sit outside all day long thinking about life without anyone bothering you until night falls? That's what I'd thought when deciding on Italy as my escape route from America but now that I was here...well, it wasn't quite working out how I thought it would be either.

There were dozens of letters scattered across my dining room table which showed how wrong things had been going since my arrival two months ago: some were threatening letters demanding money while others were pleas from desperate families pleading with me as one last hope to save their lives after their homes had been destroyed by earthquakes or floods or wildfires or freak storms or anything else you might imagine happening in nature that could cause mass destruction but yet somehow leave families living alone waiting for someone like me to come along to see what we could do about saving them all before it was too late for too many people too many times in too many different places around Europe and Africa and Asia and Australia...and somewhere deep down inside me...there was something stirring within which made me wonder if maybe there really was something special about me after all...something special about being the best trainer ever known throughout all the world's history...maybe those titles weren't just bragging rights meant for marketing purposes only after all; maybe there really was something significant about those titles after all...something significant enough that made these people keep writing letters saying that their children are dying out here alone surrounded by death while they beg me as their last hope not afraid to die themselves if only someone will rescue them before they lose everything worth living for forever; maybe there really is something special about being called The Best Ever Known instead of just being another name on someone's list of ordinary everyday people living ordinary everyday lives full of nothing more than average boring nothingness leading average boring uninteresting nothing lives until they die average boring uninteresting nothing deaths leaving no real mark upon this world whatsoever like everyone else who has ever existed before them; maybe there is something special out here in Italy beyond just being another person trying to find peace while forgetting what happened back home; maybe there really is something significant about being The Best Ever Known after all because otherwise why would so many people still be writing letters begging for help every day even though one letter says there are millions more dying out here alone without supplies without food without homes without anything at all because natural disasters have destroyed everything around them everywhere at once wherever they are at in this entire world no matter where they live no matter how hard we've tried thinking ahead by building underground bunkers far beneath Earth's surface where we can survive longer than anywhere else above ground assuming of course that those cities won't be hit next by asteroids exploding into our atmosphere causing explosions larger than anything else mankind has ever seen before sending shockwaves through our atmosphere bigger than anything humanity has ever seen before wiping us off this planet completely destroying our species forever so that we can never exist again after spending centuries building these cities underneath Earth's surface we've learned exactly how catastrophic natural disasters can be while digging deep down below ground learning how vulnerable we are after creating nuclear bombs capable of destroying our species ten times over learning more than we ever meant to learn while building these underground cities capable of sheltering us from everything possible except asteroids which sometimes break through our atmosphere causing earthquakes larger than anything mankind has ever seen before sending tsunamis higher than any other tsunami humanity has ever faced washing us away leaving us dead beneath our own oceans without any way left to survive making us wish we'd never built these underground cities because now we have nowhere left to go because if we try heading over towards Europe from Italy we'll be caught up in an orange juice cyclone moving faster than we can run trying running across desert sand dunes covering every inch of land ahead blocking our path stopping us dead in our tracks until winds pick up turning everything around us into miniature tornadoes picking up rocks kicking up dust taking everything around us apart turning our homes into cinders tearing down desert oases killing animals killing plants destroying everything we've worked so hard for over thousands upon thousands of years trying losing everything mankind has ever lived for including ourselves unless somebody does something quick quick quick quick quick quick before it's too late too late too late too late too late too late too late too late too late-"