Free Thinker

Mantineus-Something that's been cooking up in my brain when I saw the 1984 parody on here. Why is it not in xovers? Not many people look there, I believe. Oh well. I'm looking at Huxley's dystopia at a few angles. I hope it's good.

Disclaimer-I own nothing!

And for those of you whom condone me focusing on homosexuality, look at chapter three. The term homosexuality is mentioned, but the only thing they are shocked about is that it's one of the only things they did back in the day before 'our Ford' since they were conditioned to have recreational sex! Meaning, it's everything a teenager hopes for! "Everyone belongs to everyone else".

------ ------Chapter 1

The office was spacious and filled with objects, all new and shiny. The old things were trashed like many old things are trashed. One could never completely banish all of those little whispers they subconsciously heard all those years ago. The Controller, his lordship Giovanni, sat at his desk, a Persian laid by his feet. Besides consuming part of his salary; one sign of a true gentleman in the society, she also kept him company so that he may never be alone; something that society dubbed a waist and a frightful endeavor.

But, at this time, he had a human companion with him. Gary Oak was one of the few, the proud, Alpha Double Plus. Meaning he would be Controller one day. Albeit he was decanted a little early, Giovanni was only in his forties for Ford's sake! Twenty-some-odd years left in him. But mistakes are bound to happen in a project this big.

"You see, Gary." Giovanni said, certain books that were laying about on his desk. "History. A curse ones such as ourselves are faced with. For without it, there would be no progress. And that's almost where we come in."

"Almost?" Gary asked, his auburn hair set in spikes.

"It is our job to oversee." Giovanni said. "And these give more than you know. Put them in your bag, Gary. If anyone sees you with these, you'll be made an outcast. You're young, that shouldn't happen until you're older."

Both smiled at the foreboding joke. The color grey suited them above all other Alphas, for their outlook was usually bleak.

Over in another building; the Pokémon-Sitting Center were pens. Inside these pens were Pokémon of varying species. The Epsilons tended to them, for they did not have actual owners. These particular Pokémon were used for free-range battling or tournaments. This was brought about from a side effect from one teaching that lasting bonds with things were wrong, for you needed to throw away old, tattered things. Not nurture them alone.

Interesting to note; Pokémon battles remained as they once were, where as Coordinating had added many machines and apparatuses to comply with the new ways; in which Pokémon hop on platforms while dodging attacks and other objects the machines threw at them. In fact, the only real change is that both became good spots for gambling.

"Pikachu," A small voice said. "Pikachu, come here girl."

At that call, a small electrical, mouse ran towards the voice and jumped into his arms. The Epsilon laughed and began to stroke the mouse's back as she cuddled deeper into his embrace.

"Pikachu!"

"My turn!" Another Epsilon said sternly.

"No." The first snapped.

"My turn!"

The second Epsilon, a Minus, unlike the first, who's a Plus, tried to take the small yellow Pokémon from him.

"Hey," A Delta shouted. He had green hair stood out against his khaki clothes. "What's your number? You know you have to switch every day!"

This came about from a lesson they hypnotically implanted into them at a young age. The first World Leaders did not want the majority of their populations to venture out on Journeys when they could be working and contributing more to society. Another side effect from this was Soma, a wonderful drug that, back then, gave the Journey worn trainers those days back. But now people tend to go on little vacations with it.

"Ash." The first called.

The second Epsilon tilted his head to the side, confused. The Delta was also perplexed. Deltas and Epsilons did not have diversity like the Alphas, Betas, and Gammas.

"What's your number, Semi-Moron?"

He, of course, jumped to the conclusion, since Semi-Morons tended to have bouts of fantasy. Despite their horrid jobs, this was another reason other classes paid the Epsilons no mind.

"I'm Ash!" The Epsilon responded happily.

"Don't mind him," Another Delta came along and grabbed the trouble making Epsilon. "Drop the Pikachu, Ash." He was playing along, an unnoticed look of disdain flashed on his face(from being conditioned that individuality is wrong). "You're scheduled for the Geodudes today."

The Delta led the happy young man towards the Geodude pen.