Abandoned Wishes Ep1

A video monitor switches on to show a square windowless room. The picture is glitchy, a wave of grainy fuzz passing upward on the screen every thirty to forty-five seconds. In the center of the room is a square table and a chair. There is a bottle of sparkling water on the center of the table. The room is gray. The table is gray. The chair is gray.

A door slides open and a person of indeterminate sex walks into the room. Their face has been blurred out of the recording.

WOLF: Please have a seat.

The person looks around the room and up at the camera.

WOLF: I can see you, but you can’t see me. Please have a seat.

The person pulls out the chair and sits.

WOLF: Let me introduce myself. I’m Supervisory Special Agent Wolfram Trinkenschuh, but you may call me Wolf. I am deep undercover as the lead, and only, employee of the A.W.D.

You have been chosen for consideration to become my archivist. As a new recruit of the FBI you may be under the impression the job is already yours and it more or less is, but before you begin you have the opportunity to turn down the position and go back to your regular life.

Your primary function will be to transcribe voice and video notes, such as the video currently being recorded, catalog confiscated exhibits, and sort them in the adjacent warehouse per one of a dozen appropriate categories.

I digress. I can see you trying to speak, but you need to be aware that I can’t hear you. I am sure, however, you are asking, “What is The AWD?”

The Abandoned Wishes Department. I am part of an independent and highly top secret government branch. An unknown benefactor funds my, well, uh, our work and we have a check and balance oversight under the guidance of the FBI in conjunction with Homeland Security.

Dead children. Sorry, “innocent” dead children. [Wolf mumbles something inaudible.] Can they really be all that innocent? They say humans are the most dangerous creatures on this planet, why do we assume children to be any different?

You’ve heard of those sick kids, the ask-a-wish ones you see on daytime television?

Here is the first secret of the AWD: magic is real. Magic is strongest in children and even stronger in children that have developed cancerous cells. Something sciency about cancer cells that unlock unlimited potential. When a dying kid makes a wish using their dying breath: it will come true.

The person pushes their chair away from the table and goes to the door. They try to open it, but it is locked.

WOLF: It’s locked, but you are safe. I know it sounds ridiculous, a joke, but we do serious work here and you know too much for me to just let you leave. You’re going to need to sit and hear the full spiel.

The person sits back in the chair, crosses their arms, and appears resigned.

WOLF: I said dying breath. That’s the thing, not only do the children not survive to see their wish come true, the universe doesn’t ask questions to clarify the wish either.

Wishes tend to escape the lips of the children and can float upward of 1,000 feet into the air before dropping back down to the ground and inhabiting the closest object they can find. The objects are then imbued with the magical properties.

Now, this is all fine and good when we can capture the objects and contain them, but the AWD is not the only organization that is aware of these magical objects.

There are a dozen corporations out there ready to extort little Linda with a lot of hubbub about her leptomeningeal metastases and three weeks to live. They are a front for magical research. A corporation distraction in an attempt to steal the only magic in the world and use it for monetary, military, or otherwise conniving personal gain.

I have a partner when I perform field work; you’ll get to know him in time. I do the footwork, and he is more of an unpaid consultant role.

He’s a stuffed fennec fox named Jeff. An abandoned wish that didn’t go wrong, which is good since all my attempts to neutralize the overly happy fucker have failed. He’s come in handy from time to time with his unique perspective.

Now, I can see from your demeanor you are still struggling to either believe me or come to terms with the position at hand. Let me give you some examples.

Three panels on the gray wall slide upward and reveal three different objects. In the first panel is a pair of orange and purple argyle socks, the second panel reveals a worn out tin lunchbox, and the third panel reveals a vintage toy telephone with its little face smiling eerily behind a thick sheet of glass.

WOLF: Put on the socks.

The person hesitantly pulls off their shoes and socks, laying them neatly on the table. They move to the first panel and remove the socks, shaking them out, and leaning over to slip them onto their feet. Within moments their legs begin to sprout thick brown hair as far up as as we can see before spreading to their arms, hands, neck, and face. The person frantically pulls the socks off their feet and tosses them to the side. The hair dissipates as quickly as it had sprouted.

WOLF: The argyle socks are what we would call a benign object. It does no harm and it’s useless, but as long as you are wearing them you will sprout hair over your entire body. This was a kid who wished for something warm before he died. This is the kind of object we would call benign. You can handle these objects without concern.

Now, gently and carefully, open the lunchbox.

The person carefully pops open the lunchbox and a siren begins to blare. They slap their hands over their ears. The lunch box is completely empty. The noise is deafening and the person is trying not to collapse without taking his hands off his ears. They finally slam the contraption closed.

WOLF: We aren’t always sure what wish may cause an object to become imbued with magic. Items like the wailing lunchbox can become incapacitating to people. This one was used to rob a bank. Therefore, objects like this are considered dangerous. These should be handled with care and properly stored.

The person is barely in their seat but a moment when a light in the third panel begins to blink.

WOLF: I know you can hear it ringing, but it’s best if you don’t answer it. The toy phone is behind glass for a reason. It was wished into existence by a little girl who had been sick for a very long time. As she took her dying breath she had simply asked when she would be allowed to die.

If you were to answer the phone it would tell you the moment of your death. It’s always violent. It’s always painful. It’s always within a week. Don’t ever answer the phone.

The toy phone is the kind of object we would call apocalyptic.

The three panels on the wall close. Simultaneously a panel on the table opens to reveal a small plate with two little tablets.

WOLF: Have you decided if you’ll accept the position yet? No, no, I can’t hear you. Here is what I need you to do. There are two tablets on the plate before you. Each tablet contains a series of bioengineered nanobots.

The nanobots in the red tablet will travel to your brain. This might all seem like a dream when you end up wherever you may end up, but your life will be in your own control. You never know where you may or may not end up.

The nanobots in the blue tablet will travel to your spinal fluid and merge with your musculoskeletal system. You’ll automatically be granted access to the AWD and all its security clearances. You’ll be my employee.

Do you accept the position as AWD Archivist? Clock is ticking. Tick tock, what is your choice?

If you take the red tablet, click here.

If you take the blue tablet, click here.

If you take both tablets, click here.