This sort of thing goes on for a few more turns before the caterpie flops to the ground overwhelmed. Shortly thereafter, the rattata knocks out the exhausted Paras.  

"You did a great job, Paras!" says Kevin, scooping his Paras up. He doesn't want to say "it was two against one and you almost had 'em", because that would be a mean thing to say in front of Magikarp, but it was two against one and he did almost have 'em.

The kids call Rattata and Caterpie back into their balls. "Looks like I beat you, you beat him, and we all learned something! And we all gotta go heal. Want to come back to town with us and get lunch at the Pokémon Center?"

Like an elevator through a factory roof, it seems civilization has come crashing into their wilderness tableau. Mr. Wonka adjusts his gloves thoughtfully. Isn't that just the way adventure comes calling? Rarely when expected, and always on time.

And then a slow smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Up to you, my dear boy" he says carryingly. "Shall we take a trip into town? I'm Willy Wonka, by the way, and these are Magikarp, Paras, and Kevin. Simply ecstatic to meet you. Yes! And so many questions. Dear me, this is going to be such an exciting day!"

"Sure!" says Kevin, who has forgotten that money exists. "What are those ball things you put the critters in anyway?"

"I'm Alys and this is Ryan, and how do you not know what Pokéballs are?" Alys and Ryan set off in the direction they came from.

"We're from another planet! Our spaceship crashed here."

"Coooooool!"

"Pokéballs are balls you throw at Pokémon and the Pokémon turns into light and goes in the ball and that's how you catch them," says Ryan.

"The ball, like, stabilizes the psychic bond and stuff? Wait, if you don't have balls how did you catch those Pokémon?"

Shrug. "I got in fights with them and then we were friends."

"Woah, ancient style!" says Ryan. "That's pretty dangerous with anything stronger but it's cool that you succeeded at it."

"Yeah! Is that how everyone does it on your planet or did you just not have any space Pokéballs in your spaceship?"

"Earth doesn't have anything like that! We make friends with animals but there's usually no fighting involved. And no psychic stuff."

"Sounds kinda boring? Sorry."

"How do people teach Earth Pokémon any Moves without a psychic bond?"

"I think it takes a long time? Paras learns really fast."

"Huh. Well, it's good that you can bond to Pokémon here even though you're a space alien." On the other side of this hill is a road! It's unpaved but the brush has been cut back and the ground stomped flat.

Much to think about. "May I," interjects Mr. Wonka very calmly, "examine the telecapture device?"

"Yeah, okay. Just don't press the button. And you gotta give her back, no tradesies."

"Certainly."

Dear me, what a lovely device! A Pokéball. Glossy outer casing, but beautifully grippable even in gloves. About the size of an orange (and just right for a child's hand, he notes approvingly). Sniff, sniff. Very little smell of its own; afterimages of a coppery-ozone volatile, an unidentifiable rubbery latex note, and cooking oil. Mmm, and not too heavy to hold. Surprisingly minimalist exterior—one might say featureless, except even its heft and shape and texture contribute to a sublimely intentional harmony. Yes, quite thoughtfully designed—at least decades of invisible work, he'd wager. And a depressable button, which he's agreed not to touch.

Now the actual mechanism...he had worked out some similar principles himself with Television Chocolate: a single magnesium-bright flash, and you can send a bar of chocolate whizzing through the air into a television receiver halfway across the world. But to do the same with a living creature, and broadcast it as large as life wherever you please—thrilling! What kind of super-compact electrochemical battery might be powering the device? Is the creature transmitted someplace else and later retrieved at will, or—oh, why hadn't he thought of the implications before?—are the bits etched onto on some kind of storage tape until they're needed?

"Tell me," he chirps. "Is the creature actually inside here, or is the ball like an antenna that transmits it somewhere else? Would it work deep underground, say?"

"She's inside there but she's digitized. It definitely works deep underground, and deep underwater. You can also send a mon to the PC system, but that sends the ball too, and sometimes if you catch a mon in a cave and try to send them it hangs until you get back to the surface."

Yes—yes!—living creatures stowed and retrieved from handheld magnetic storage, and an entire network of interconnected computer-warehouses—the Pokéball travels, too—and back again? Freight-sized transport—copying?—replication? Oh, my sainted aunt! Imagine still-warm biscuits at any time—dewy-fresh wondermint from the top of the furthest mountain—you could sell it by the seaside six seconds later if you cared to—the supply chain solved for ever—and the mixing experiments!

"I see! And how well-travelled you seem to be!" Mr. Wonka beams as his brain does secret sparkling somersaults. He can't wait to acquire Pokéballs of his own. "Do you often find yourselves out of doors? Caves and underwater and so forth? It seems more and more children would rather have their brains irradiated by computer screen these days, I'm afraid, although Kevin here is somewhat of a born naturalist."

Alys accepts her ball back and clips it to her belt. "Yeah! I'm on my Pokémon journey. That's where a kid goes out into the world with a Pokémon to catch a couple more and find the ones who are going to be their partners, and make human friends too, and maybe challenge some gyms or help build a bridge or map a cave or whatever. And the computer system can't do anything with human brains, they're too big and complicated."

"It would be pretty cool if you could put yourself in a Pokéball and send yourself somewhere else, but I guess you'd need someone on the other end already to get you out."

"Yeah, and you'd miss out on all the scenery and Pokémon and people along the way."

"Adventure, broadly speaking, is the only thing worth doing. Why skip it?" Mr. Wonka nods eagerly. "And for that matter, why wait? You seem to be getting a marvelous experience of life out here— is it just thrilling? Do you find yourself matching wits against problems of a pecuniary or bestial or discombobu-locationary nature?"

"I didn't understand some of those words at the end there but it's totally awesome! I met Ryan last week and we're friends now," says Alys.

"We've been having some location problems, if 'there's a tree down on the road south from town and nobody's got a Pokémon strong enough to get it out of the way' counts," adds Ryan.

"Yeah, that. But we just went west instead and that's how we met you, so who's to say what's a problem and what isn't."

"It's a problem for Sally if I can't get that letter to her brother that I said I would."

"Oh, right. But you'll get it there eventually."

Mr. Wonka's having such a good time with these three resourceful children.

"And what do you do for money?" Mr. Wonka presses. "Oh, I know it's gauche to ask! But I never did learn how to be tactful about things that are really interesting, if you see what I mean. When you're backpacking between towns across wild country, you've got to have a way to get lodgings and supplies, don't you?"