MIGHTY CULTURE

The 2016 Canadian military battle against... Pokémon?

Dearest mother, if you're reading this... send rare candies...


A couple individuals from the enraptured masses soaking in pure ecstasy.

The year is 2016. "Love Yourself" by Justin Beiber echoes through the streets. People are wearing choker necklaces again, for some reason. And millions of people are walking around, neck craned to their screens, trying to catch Pokémon.

The massive 2016 explosion of "Pokémon GO" sparked national hysteria. Multitudes of people took to the streets, surroundings be damned. Videos of novice Pokémon trainers falling prey to otherwise pedestrian obstacles (like the one below) went viral overnight.

According to a 2017 analysis, Pokémon GO usage contributed to 150,000 traffic accidents, 256 deaths, and a $2-7.3 billion economic price tag in the first six months of its launch.

The hysteria was present across the border of our northern ally, as well. The enraptured masses unsuspectingly wandered through Canadian military installations, in search of the powerful pocket monsters.

The Canadian military responded to this invasion with a geopolitical-move as old as time; they issued a firm warning. "It has been discovered that several locations within DND/CAF establishments are host to game landmarks (PokeStops and Gyms) and its mythical digital creatures (Pokémon)."

The enraptured Pokémon masses pressed forward, iPhones in hand, in spite of the vague threat of consequence, while the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation detailed the entire battle with a full after-action report on the situation.

According to the CBC's report, the Canadian military brass was dumbfounded by their new enemy.

The enraptured masses.

Maj. Jeff Monaghan issued a base-wide memo at Fort Frontenac, letting his men know that many locations on the military base were being used as "both a Pokémon Gym and Pokèmon Stop." The CBC contacted Maj. Monaghan to follow up his memo with insider knowledge, "I will be completely honest in that I have not idea what that is." The war ravaged on.

While an assortment of Canadian stripes dripped sweat over a war table, moving pieces to chokehold Pikachu and his cohorts, security expert David Levenick verbalized his frustration, "We should almost hire a 12-year-old to help us out with this." However, the enemy was resolute in their affiliation.

The base took to the offensive and armed a handful of MPs with iPhones and iPads to conduct an inside look into the enemy's formation. The offensive move paid off, and the inside information led to the upgrading of an on-base museum from a "Pokéstop" to a "Pokémon Gym."

In the end, however, the war ended as all things do: with a gradual decay. 45 million in the Poké-army became 20. And then 10. Then 5. Much like the Great Roman Empire, the enraptured masses slowly collapsed inward. Some sought refuge in "8 Ball Pool" some in "Super Mario Run" and a few brave souls transferred to a different battlefield altogether— "Bumble."

Even the rapid hysteria of Pokémon GO was no match for the great equalizers of entropy and new apps, but the great flag of Canada waves on, swiping left to right through the end of time.