America, I Choose You
There are some days I wish I could take a break from this job. Even when I’m on vacation, I just can’t separate myself from my work. As I watch the sun set on the vast Libyan tundra, I can’t help but wonder what’s going on back in Washington. Are our nation’s citizens protected from the evils abroad? Did Bob remember to refill the snack machine? I am plagued with questions. Some people are married to their work, but me, I’m in a sado-masochistic relationship with my job. It wears a black vinyl mask and nightly makes me its pliable plaything. It’s a wonder I come back day after day, pleading for its nine tails of pain to tear into my flesh, but I can’t stay away. My country is my job, my job is my life, and I love my life. People say I’m a hero, but I’m just doing my duty for America.
My name is Jack Bauer, and I train Pokémon for the United States Government.
I work at a place called CTG: Counter-Terrorist Gym. You see, a gym is where you train Pokémon, only in this gym, we train Pokémon to battle terrorists. Bulbasaur, Squirtle, Butterfree… if it’s a Pokémon, we can train it.
I’ve just gotten a phone call; it’s from the President himself. He needs me.
***
“It’s beautiful. It’s absolutely beautiful.” The president is crouched over his desk, a magnifying glass in his hand, gazing at something as if it were a precious jewel. His eyes are brimming with tears of rapture. He sure loves his bottle-cap collection. “Jack, come here. I want you to see this. I call it… The Apogee.”
“Sir, you wanted to see me about some sort of terrorist plot,” I remind him.
“Oh yes. The terrorists.” He locks The Apogee into its place at the very center of a large display case. It flips back into his desk, and he returns his attention to me. “They’ve developed a new Pokémon. It’s an evolution of the vicious Zangoose, called Zamiltiger.”
“But Mr. President, that’s impossible! Zangoose is a non-evolving Pokémon!”
“I know, Jack. God forgive us all.”
***
I answer to Professor Holland Oak, the foremost Pokémon researcher in the country and head of CTG. He’s handing me a photo collected from a recent excursion to South Africa.
“This is an awful shot, Oak. Everyone knows Pokémon hate having their backs photographed. Why didn’t your photographer throw a pesterball to spin them around? What a rookie move.”
“I said the same things, Jack, but this is the first ever photograph of Zamiltiger. He’s a very rare Pokémon.”
“Who’s that in the photo with him?”
“That’s Jigglypuff. The man on the phone is Kareem Abdul Jabbar. We think he’s the mastermind behind this whole operation. We want you to find him and stop him. I’ve paired you with a dashing young agent who’s new to CFG. His name’s Ash. Show him the poké-ropes. Oh, and Jack… bring Jabbar back home alive. My wife wants an autograph.”
“Professor, that’s not your wife. You’re pointing at a socket wrench.”
“Dammit, Jack, I don’t need any more of your lip. Just get this done.”
***
We locate the terrorist trio in an abandoned gym near the border of Limpopo. Jabbar is just leaving, with Zamiltiger at his heels.
“Jabbar, you’re sunk! Prepare for Poké-battle!” I call, catching him off guard.
He doesn’t spare any time. “Zamiltiger! I choose YOU!”
“Blastoise!” I cry out. I hope Jabbar doesn’t know my greatest weakness: my daughter is as accident-prone as a deaf bat in the dark, and every single season I have to drop everything to save her tight, blonde kaboose. That’s just the kind of guy I am.
Right away, Jabbar pulls out the big guns. “Endangerment of… KIM BAUER!”
I turn around to see my daughter’s frightened face. She must have followed us. “Kim!” I cry out. “Kim!” Ash echoes. I turn to him, puzzled.
“Oh no, panthers!” my daughter screams. Three giant jungle cats pounce out of nowhere and tear her to shreds. Cackling maniacally, Jabbar morphs into a winged basketball and flies away.
“Oh cruel fate! Take meeeeeeee!” Ash howls at the sky. He drops to her side, which appears to be all that’s left of her. He gazes up at me. “We were engaged,” he explains.
“You bastard,” I spit at him. “How dare you date my daughter?”
“What does it matter who she dates?” His eyes narrowed. “We were in love.”
“The life of a Pokémon trainer is too dangerous for love, Ash. You can’t do this job and have a life. I tried and failed. My wife — and now my daughter — have both been killed by poké-terrorists. You think you can do things differently? Well, you can’t. You need to choose between a life of love and a life of Pokémon, Ash. Make your choice.”
Ash blinked a tear away. He lowered his head in thought, fingering his dead fiancée’s lapel. When he looked back up at me, his face was filled with determination and strength. He uttered the words every counter-terrorist trainer loves to hear.
“America… I choose you.”