The newly repurposed lab on the outskirts of Glendale buzzed with energy. It had only been a week since Silph Co. set up their temporary research station, and already the place looked more like a miniature headquarters than a field office.
Ray stood by a whiteboard covered in hand-drawn diagrams, statistical graphs, and annotations in multiple colors. Pidgeotto rested on a nearby window frame.
Across from Ray, a group of engineers, developers, and data analysts from Silph Co. sat in folding chairs, looking more attentive than they had during their first meeting. The skepticism they once held had long since dissolved, replaced by curiosity—and, slowly, admiration.
"In summary," Ray said, pointing to a projected interface of the old Aptitude Measurement Tool, "the original system was only measuring easily quantifiable values—things like stamina thresholds, energy output during attacks, and basic environmental adaptation. But those indicators miss the more nuanced internal traits that make each Pokémon unique."
He turned to the team. "That's where sublevels come in."
One of the lead developers, a bespectacled man named Rynar, raised a brow. "You're saying the reason trainers misinterpret two Pokémon of the same color tier is because those tiers aren't granular enough?"
"Exactly." Ray tapped the whiteboard where he had divided the main Aptitude Colors—Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, and Aurora—into three distinct sublevels each: Light, Core, and Deep.
"For example," Ray continued, "a Pokémon in the Core Green sublevel might perform consistently in a range of training environments. But a Deep Green will respond faster, have slightly higher adaptability curves, and show more stable combat growth."
He flipped to a new chart. "This... is a year's worth of my personal notes, collated from my own Pokémon and dozens of observed samples. I've mapped out each sublevel with upper and lower bounds for different measurable outputs—muscle response, aura stability, stamina recovery, and even behavioral tendencies under stress."
One of the analysts, a woman named Elira, leaned forward. "And you're proposing we feed this into the new machine?"
"Not just feed," Ray corrected. "Structure it."
Engineering the Difference
The engineering team began brainstorming, spreading their diagrams and technical specs on several tables. Ray sat with them, slightly overwhelmed by the rapid technical vocabulary—but eager to learn.
"I'm no engineer," Ray admitted as he flipped through blueprints with them, "but I've been working on pattern recognition and mapping sublevel tendencies. If I can work with your team to integrate these thresholds, we might be able to create a system that doesn't just categorize Pokémon but explains why they fall into a sublevel."
One of the hardware engineers smiled. "Then let's make you an engineer by proxy."
The group chuckled, and the tension lightened. By mid-afternoon, Ray was sketching mock-ups with them, trying to help align his data models to the prototype scanning chamber they were upgrading.
The Oak Files
Later that night, Ray sat at his desk, light from his tablet casting a glow over the room. A ping echoed as a file came through.
Sender: Professor OakSubject: Expanded Metrics for Stat-Based Behavior Models
The attachment was massive. Diagrams, field notes, tables on comparative aura performance across regions, and experimental logs from Oak's own Pokémon lab.
Ray dove into it, marveling at how well Oak had mapped behavioral anomalies to existing aptitude readings. He highlighted several patterns and cross-referenced them with his own sublevel structure. With this, he could further refine the criteria for separating Core from Deep, or Light from Core.
We're going to make this real, he thought, eyes focused and heart racing. We're going to make a tool that helps people truly understand their Pokémon.
A Glimpse of the Future
By the end of the week, they had integrated a prototype firmware upgrade into the scanner unit. The machine now accepted over twenty-four parameters instead of the original five. The difference was immediate. One test Pokémon—an Electrike brought in by the team—was previously classified simply as Green. Now, it scanned as Core Green, with trait modifiers that explained its above-average speed and weak stamina.
"Unbelievable," Elira muttered. "We've had this Electrike for three years and never understood why its training results were so erratic."
Ray smiled, but inside, he was still racing through ideas.
This was just the beginning.
He was now documenting everything—every formula, every anomaly, every tweak to the software. Because one day, not far from now, he wasn't going to be just a contributor to this machine—he'd build one from the ground up.
And when he did, it wouldn't just measure aptitude.
It would change how people understood Pokémon forever.