Be Careful What You Wish For

The rain dripped from his hood as his bloodied fingertips burrowed into the wearing ebony. He could see the ink dripping from the pages, mocking his tears. Damn you, he thought. None of this would be happening if it weren’t for you. Lightning slashed through the sky, painting the alley white; freezing time for only a split moment before the thunder tumbled and clashed behind, shaking the ground beneath his feet. I never wanted this… He pulled his arms into his chest, rocking back and forth, he cradled the mischievous object. A small journal of great power; the book of exaltation, the book of deepest despair. He had never imagined such horror in his entire life.

Edgar had never dreamed that his life would be this way. As he rushed through the bustling streets to his vendor, pulling his arm through his jacket he could hear the buzz of the teletron above him.

“Well, it looks like it is another glorious evening in our home, Karen,” the anchorman’s voice boomed, “clear skies again?”

“Yes, indeed, Tom,” she responded without skipping a beat. “Clear skies, not a cloud in sight and no storms headed our way.”

Big surprise, Edgar scoffed. There had not been an actual storm in over a century. Everything was artificial, from the plants to the clouds, to some pets and even some people. Oxygen was imported from the restricted areas beyond the dome. The dome was made of a sort of solar paneling that was programmed to mimic old earthly charms of a deep nighttime sky or a bright, summer day. Not that anyone now really paid attention to what was above them. Most Civilians were preoccupied by their EyeShare, which was programmed to do pretty much anything and everything for the modern-day human from the comfort of the bridge of your nose.

Things had vastly changed for par of the course. Many articles of media were long gone and only rumored to have even existed and many choices had been removed completely (for simplicity is best.) Edgar could not be any more opposite. He felt that something greatly lacked from day to day life and that something just was not on the up and up. Everything was fake, everything was chosen, and everything was just too plain easy. Even walking was a faded fad. Walking was to be limited and running was completely informal and frowned upon. A person could be given a citation in some cases! There were ‘walkways,’ escalating paths that you hopped on and off to reach your destination. Up and down, side to side and tubes to shoot you long distances from town to town.

Ed could see the shop up ahead and with a swift flick of his thumb, there was another buzz and a beeping. His EyeShare glasses synchronized and chimed, showing him the statistics of his environment. It read the population of the street, competitors, the projected business and profit, and of course, the redundant weather. With a few more whirs and gyrations in his brain, a holographic cart popped up from the sidewalk.

“Welcome,” a robotic symphony voiced, “Good Morning, Edgar.”

“Good morning, Elouise,” he mumbled. His lips curled into a small smirk as the robotic voice echoing in his eardrums softened and cooed. “Inaccurate. It is 17:00 in the afternoon,” It corrected. “Why do you prefer to call me that?”

Edgar shrugged, “I kinda think it annoys you.”

“Inaccurate...”

Yeah, yeah… He thought.

Business progressed as usual. Customers approached the hologram, swiping through the produce. They would select, then they were scanned and then their cart was shipped to their lodgings and off they would go, back on to the pathways. It was an extraordinary process to watch them decipher what they genuinely wanted. Surfing through the data and being lectured by the “health guru” inside their EyeShare, many of which fully consulted like it was their very own conscience. The emulated light grew darker and the panels began to sparkle with varying shades of white. To see real stars… Edgar thought. He looked around the simulation and then back down to the thinning crowds. Just another day in paradise… Then suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a shrouding figure hurrying into the shadows.

What is that? He wondered as he began to step away from his booth and towards the alley. “Elouise close up shop, I’m leaving early!” He ordered. Elouise responded again, but Edgar was deafened by his curiosity. He had never seen someone outside of Civilian digs and in such a rich purple. He had heard that once upon time, thousands upon thousands of years ago, that purple was a sign of royalty and although, he had always doubted it- in this instant, he felt hypnotized. He shimmied over, passing through the crowd. He entered the alley, but the shadow was far ahead. He began a soft jog until he reached the end of passage, but the person had suddenly vanished from all view. Panting, Edgar looked around. He was almost frantic. Am I seeing things? One-way ticket to being incarcerated, Eddie…

He dropped his hands to his sides in defeat, still catching his breath. He turned and there stood the figure. It was calm and unmoving like it had been there the entire time. Edgar could feel that it was watching him from underneath the hood.

“So, you do see me,” the figure whispered. The voice from the veiled darkness was soft and raspy. “Do you wish to see further?”

“Wh- What do you mean?” Edgar was baffled. Of course, he could see them, draped in grape curtains abroad a sea of gray uniforms- who couldn’t see that? As if he couldn’t control his own body, his feet inched closer to the stranger.

“If you wish to see…” The figure hissed again and outstretched a hand with long, golden razor-sharp nails that dangled at least two inches, “take the book…”

Book? Edgar looked at the hand and suddenly there was a charcoal leather bound book resting in its palm. “Take it,” the stranger spoke again, and the words echoed like a hundred voices surrounded them. “Take it…” With that, the stranger had gone and in Edgar’s hands lay the book. He had not even reached for it. Edgar looked around, searching for the figure again, but they were nowhere to be seen. Edgar could hear the last of the humming Civilians on their way home, chatting on their devices in the distance. What are you? He thought to himself as he stroked the cover with the tips of his fingers. He placed the book inside his jacket and zipped it back up, hiding the evidence that it even existed.

He reached is abode, the top flat in a rectangle of monotonous cells, and rushed inside the door. He slammed it shut, locking it with the EyeShare and then tossing the glasses aside on a table. “Alright, mysterious. It’s just you and me,” he took the book from his jacket and dropped to the futon. “Tell me your secrets!” He opened to the first page and to his surprise, it was blank. He scratched his head and flipped through the parchment and suddenly, something fell on his foot and rolled across the floor. He leaned down and saw a wobbling line, rolling back and forth on the warped synthetics. A pen? He crawled across and grabbed it. He touched the paper with the tip and unexpectedly began to daydream, he wrote and wrote and found himself in his own little void…

Edgar heard bells as light blared in his room. It was morning and it was time to go back to the vendor. He rose from his bed and peered at the table; the little black book was still there. It taunted him, teased him, wanted him and then there was knock. Edgar jumped to his feet. Knocking? Edgar stared at the door. No one ever knocked, especially at his door.

He went and peered through the looking glass, but no one was there. He saw a shadow at the foot of the door, and he opened it. There was a small package. A tightly packed envelope tied with twine. He grasped it and slammed the door behind him. His heart raced. It couldn’t be… Could it? He unraveled the paper and beheld $20,000.

He dropped it to the floor and fell backwards. He scrambled to his feet but could barely stand. He grabbed the journal and saw his imaginations filling the first few pages. He asked for wealth and here it was, sitting on his floor in a messy pile. He smiled and laughed hysterically, fully succumbed in shock and awe. He grabbed his jacket, some of the bills from the floor and the book, burying it away in his pockets.

As he zipped his uniform and sped through the halls, he saw that everyone was watching him but not in a peculiar way, they were envious and fawning over him. Women and men blushed and stood agape, trying to touch him as he walked by. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, completely in disbelief of what he saw. There on the viewing screens was his face! Interviews, photographs- they were all of him, or at least somebody who looked like him. He reached inside his pocket and pulled the book, again thumbing the pages and seeing that his deepest desires were coming true. He was rich, he was famous…

As he flicked through the book, he noticed there was more than what he wrote now, but the writing was illegible and then small smudges of ink scattered on the pads of his hands and fingers. He tried to wipe them off, but it was too stubborn. A little bit of ink never hurt nobody, he chuckled to himself and continued along his way towards the exit of his complex. He reached for the door and there was a gust of wind that nearly knocked him to the concrete. What the Hell? He gasped. Was that the wind? The real wind? He was flabbergasted, barely even able to breathe. He swallowed hard, his stomach knotting. He wanted real weather and here it was, but as he stepped outside, the building’s false light disappeared. It wasn’t the morning… It was night.

The wind was harsh and bitter, and it felt like glass was hitting him on the face. It was cold and hot and he could hear the solar panels cracking above the angry typhoons as they wailed and moaned. The thunder boomed, the lightning cackled and one by one, the sky began to fall. There were a few screams, but instead of running and seeking shelter- the fools were rushing to Edgar. Swooning and gushing they crowded around him. “What are you doing?” He shouted, but they wouldn’t listen. It was like they had no conception of what was happening and no control. The rain washed down upon them and as the pellets hit, smoke rose from the tuffs of grass and blanket of grey uniforms.

“Go! Get out of the storm!” He pleaded, but still no one heard. Edgar fled; he ran as fast as he could. He could see his vendor and the alley. He sprinted, hurdling over Civilians that laid on the pavement. He ripped at his jacket, trying to get the acid covered fabric off so he could hold it over his head. As he grasped the cloth umbrella, his fingers blistered and burned. He cried. The world around him was coming to an end. He just wanted life to be interesting again, a little more like it used to be...

Rocking back and forth, the figure returned. The purple cloak engulfed him, shrouding him in a blinding light. There was a warmth, one he had never felt before. “Do you wish to see…?” The voice was clear and angelic. He felt a hand in his, “be careful what you wish for.”

And then, Edgar awoke.