The past week had been a blur of code, paperwork, and late-night brainstorming. By the time the sun rose each morning, Arin's mind was already racing through lines of programming and lists of tasks. Progress on his app had accelerated, but so had the challenges. Every decision felt important, and every mistake seemed costly.
Tonight, as the city's lights flickered on and the Safari Zone quieted, Arin sat in the staff computer room, the glow of the facility's monitor illuminating his face. Echo, his loyal Zubat, hung upside down from a curtain rod near the window, occasionally fluttering her wings as if to check on him. The air was thick with anticipation and the faint scent of wildflowers drifting in from the open window.
Arin's app was nearly complete. The interface was smooth, the features robust, and the code-after endless debugging-finally stable. But the technical side was only half the battle. Hosting the app required a reliable server, and that meant making a choice that could affect the safety and future of everything he'd built.
He could have gone with the obvious choice: Saffron City, the technological heart of Kanto. Its IT hub was famous, boasting the best infrastructure and the fastest connections. But that was exactly the problem. Saffron's digital world was a magnet for attention-for both good and bad. Team Rocket's influence was rumored to reach deep into the city's networks, and Arin had read enough horror stories about data theft and sabotage to know that he couldn't risk it. If Team Rocket or any other criminal organization caught wind of a promising new trainer app, they might try to take control, steal user data, or worse. Saffron's IT world was a battlefield, and Arin was not ready to fight a war.
He needed somewhere secure, less obvious, but still advanced enough to support his ambitions. That's when he started researching the Alola region. At first, he didn't know which island would be best. Melemele and Ula'ula were the most developed, but Ula'ula had a reputation for its growing tech sector and tight-knit digital community. It was far from the chaos of the mainland, and its servers were known for their reliability and strong privacy policies.
Most importantly, Alola was almost untouched by the kind of large-scale criminal organizations that plagued Kanto and Johto. Team Skull was the only group of note in the region, and from everything Arin had read, they were more of a nuisance than a threat. Their operations were messy, small-scale, and lacked any real technical sophistication. They stole Pokémon and berries, vandalized property, and made trouble for trainers, but they didn't have the resources or know-how to sabotage a digital server. Compared to Team Rocket's sprawling network and technological reach, Team Skull was a gang of street punks. That alone made Alola, and especially Ula'ula Island, the safest choice for his project.
But what really sealed the deal for Arin was a bit of digital sleuthing. While browsing the Pokédex contributor pages-an online hub for programmers, researchers, and tech enthusiasts-he noticed a user named "Sophocles" who was unusually active, answering questions and sharing code snippets. The name rang a bell from his old world's anime memories, but what caught Arin's attention was the user's transparency: Sophocles hadn't bothered to change his name or hide his location. A quick search revealed a profile listing Ula'ula Island as his home. The realization hit Arin like a jolt-if he ever ran into a technical wall, there was a young genius right on the island where his server would be.
He hadn't known at first which island Sophocles lived on, but the contributor page made it clear. Sophocles was active, helpful, and not yet famous outside of tech circles. Arin hadn't reached out yet, and he didn't know if Sophocles would be willing to help, but he hoped so-after all, the boy was always active and helpful on the page, answering questions for other users. For now, it was just a possibility in the back of Arin's mind, a potential lifeline if he ever hit a wall he couldn't climb alone.
He also finally managed to open a bank account and link it to his trainer ID-a process that involved more paperwork and digital signatures than he'd ever imagined. Now, at least, he could accept payments and manage his finances more easily, though his balance was a stark reminder of how much he'd invested in this dream.
Arin had gone to extra lengths to keep his own identity hidden in the server records. Drawing on his old-world hacking skills, he set up his account and app registration under the pseudonym RebornResolve. This masked his real name from public and even most internal company records. He'd paid a bit extra for the company's advanced privacy package, which ensured that his personal details would remain encrypted and inaccessible even if someone tried to dig. For now, the privacy cost was manageable, but he knew from the company's policy that as the server's activity and user inquiries increased, the fees for this level of anonymity would rise. The company would have to dedicate more resources to monitor, encrypt, and shield his data from prying eyes, and that came at a premium. It was a calculated risk, but one Arin was willing to take to protect himself-and his users-from anyone who might try to trace the app's origins back to him.
Setting up the server cost more than he'd expected. The fees for registration, security, and data migration added up quickly. He watched his savings dwindle with every new payment, and by the time everything was running, he had just enough left for daily essentials. His only relief was that Mrs. Varma had sold him enough Zubat food at a generous discount to last nearly two weeks. Echo would eat well, even if Arin had to stretch his own meals until his next salary came in.
Arin glanced at the app's main page, feeling a surge of satisfaction. The platform combined the best features he'd seen in popular apps from both his old world and this one:
• Photo and Video Sharing: Users could post snapshots of their Pokémon, habitats, and daily adventures, complete with filters and captions.
• Short Clips: Inspired by Tiktok, there was a section for quick, looping videos-perfect for showing off a new move or a funny moment.
• Messaging and Groups: Trainers could chat one-on-one or form groups, much like WhatsApp, to coordinate meetups, share tips, or just talk about their favorite Pokémon.
• Stories: Temporary posts that disappeared after 24 hours, ideal for sharing updates or fleeting moments.
• Trainer Journals: Each user could keep a private or public diary, logging progress, discoveries, or even dreams for the future.
• Anonymous Questions and Polls: To foster a supportive community where trainers could help each other without fear of embarrassment.
• Event Boards: Announcements for local tournaments, Safari Zone activities, and community meetups.
• Pokémon Profiles: Trainers could create mini-profiles for their Pokémon, sharing stats, moves, and even personality quirks.
He'd even added a feature for anonymous questions and polls, hoping to foster a supportive community where trainers could help each other without fear of embarrassment.
Arin's plan was simple: before a public release, he'd share the app with Safari Zone staff and trusted acquaintances. Their feedback would be invaluable, and a small, controlled launch would help him iron out any bugs before opening it to the wider world. The last piece was secure server access, which he planned to finish over the next week.
He kept a close eye on his privacy settings and server analytics, knowing that the company's advanced privacy package was working in the background. The cost was still manageable, but he was keenly aware that as his app grew and more users signed up, the company would start charging more for the extra work required to keep his details hidden. Every inquiry, every spike in activity, would mean more resources spent by the server team to keep his pseudonym intact and his true identity buried under layers of encryption and legal firewalls.
As he reviewed his to-do list, Arin's thoughts drifted to the risks he'd taken. The server's location on Ula'ula Island meant better security and less chance of criminal interference, but it also meant higher costs and a little more lag for mainland users. Still, the peace of mind was worth it. He'd rather deal with a slower connection than risk everything to a data breach or a Team Rocket takeover. Alola was safe-Team Skull might cause trouble in the streets, but they weren't hackers or digital saboteurs. The odds of anyone sabotaging his server there were almost zero.
He was deep in thought, running through his mental checklist and worrying about the next steps, when a sudden sensation snapped him back to the present. Echo, who had been quietly hanging from the curtain rod, swooped down and landed right on the facility keyboard, chirping insistently and flapping her wings.
"Hey! Careful, you'll close the-" Arin started, but Echo was already pecking at the keys, her wings fanning his face.
He laughed, the tension in his shoulders melting away. "Alright, alright, I get it. Enough work for one night."
Echo chittered, clearly pleased with herself, and hopped onto his arm. She gave him a look that was half-accusation, half-invitation-reminding him that there was more to life than code and servers.
Arin logged out, shut down the computer, and stood up, stretching. "You're right. Time to feed the Oddishes."
He grabbed the container of special plant food and headed outside, Echo riding on his shoulder. The air was cool and smelled faintly of damp earth and wildflowers. The Safari Zone was quiet at this hour, the last rays of sunlight fading behind the trees.
The Oddishes were clustered near their favorite patch of soft soil, their leaves twitching as they sensed his approach. Arin knelt down, scattering food in gentle arcs. Echo hovered nearby, watching with interest as the Oddishes waddled over, their tiny feet leaving delicate prints in the dirt.
One particularly bold Oddish nudged Arin's hand, and he smiled, scratching its leafy head. "You guys are always hungry, aren't you?"
Echo let out a soft trill, swooping low to inspect the Oddishes. The plant Pokémon didn't seem to mind, and one even tried to mimic Echo's chirp, producing a sound somewhere between a squeak and a rustle.
Arin laughed, feeling the stress of the day slip away. "You're making friends everywhere, Echo."
As he finished feeding the Oddishes, Arin looked up at the stars beginning to appear overhead. He thought about the journey ahead-the risks, the uncertainty, the dreams that seemed both closer and further than ever. He knew the next few weeks would be tough, but he also knew he wasn't alone anymore.
Echo landed on his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek with her tiny nose. Arin smiled, grateful for her presence and for the small, quiet moments that made everything worthwhile.
"Thanks, Echo," he whispered. "For reminding me what matters."
Together, they walked back toward the lights of the main building, ready to face whatever tomorrow would bring.
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