Read Online Wishing in the Wings by Mindy Klasky - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mindy Klasky
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fascinating, now that I’d spoiled it by thinking about demons.
“So?” she said, as if she were afraid I’d change my mind. “What’s your first wish?”
I thought about everything that had happened that day. Kira had given me the lantern because she had known just how absolutely, completely, irredeemably miserable I was. But now I had the power to act. I had the power to change things.
What should I wish for? Information about Dean’s whereabouts, so that I could turn him in and get back everything he owed me? Me, and the Mercer, too?
But that was sort of petty, in the big scheme of things. Sure, my day had been a disaster. Absolutely, my personal life had fallen apart at the seams. Beyond doubt, the Mercer was in trouble. But the world had even bigger problems.
Universal health care. Equal rights for all people. Genocide in countries I could barely name. How could I pass up solving such major problems for so many others?
I rolled global crises around in my head for a few minutes. And then, I said, “Global warming.”
“Excuse me?” Teel’s words sounded liked they’d been punched out of a sheet of frozen metal.
I tried to project an air of confidence. “I’d like to solve global warming. Climate change. You know, polar bears drowning in the Arctic, drought in Australia, ecological disasters around the world.”
Teel closed her eyes and brought her hands together in a gesture of prayer. Her tattoo pulsed as she inhaled, then exhaled. Four times, she repeated the breathing exercises. Each time that she filled her lungs, the flames on her wrist glowed a little brighter, as if she were pumping a bellows, breathing fresh life into the tattoo. On the final exhale, Teel opened her eyes and stared at me levelly.
“Was that it?” I whispered, awed. “Global warming is solved?”
She snorted, scattering any semblance of peace and harmony. “Of course not. You’ll know when I grant one of your wishes.”
“But what were you doing?” I heard the wail behind my words, realized that I sounded like a spoiled child.
“I was calming myself. We had an entire afternoon seminar on that at MAGIC. On how to handle the Grand Wishes.”
“Grand Wishes?” I repeated.
“Ninety-eight out of one hundred first-timers try to save the world. Make a better planet.” She drew out that last phrase into a mocking sing-song.
I started to argue even before I wondered about those other two, the pair who didn’t have altruism running in their veins. “But you said—”
She cut me off. “You can ask me to solve global warming. And I can grant your wish. But I’m only one genie. And the globe is a very large place. Climate change is especially tricky—I have to balance everything, from one region to another, and every adjustment I make in one place will have an effect somewhere else. You know—butterflies, flapping wings, hurricanes, all that garbage.”
“So you can’t do it?” I was astonished to hear the disappointment in my voice. Half an hour before, I hadn’t even known that genies were real, and now I was sulking because mine was backing off from her promises.
“I can do it, but I wouldn’t finish up for…” she trailed off, staring at my office wall and moving her lips as she made some mental calculation. “Six hundred and forty-three years, twenty-seven days, four hours, and oh, give or take twenty minutes.”
“Wow.” I felt like I had to say something else, so I tried, “You can be that precise?”
“That’s one of the new requirements, in the revised contract. Page thirty-one?” She pointed a perfectly manicured nail toward the document that I’d signed. “Fulfillment delay for any wish that will take longer than twenty-four hours to grant must be disclosed in full to the wisher. Prior written notice must be provided in cases of time variance stemming from high Ethical Interference Quotient, extended Physical Impact Vector, or substantial Time Adjustment Factor. No written notice
“So?” she said, as if she were afraid I’d change my mind. “What’s your first wish?”
I thought about everything that had happened that day. Kira had given me the lantern because she had known just how absolutely, completely, irredeemably miserable I was. But now I had the power to act. I had the power to change things.
What should I wish for? Information about Dean’s whereabouts, so that I could turn him in and get back everything he owed me? Me, and the Mercer, too?
But that was sort of petty, in the big scheme of things. Sure, my day had been a disaster. Absolutely, my personal life had fallen apart at the seams. Beyond doubt, the Mercer was in trouble. But the world had even bigger problems.
Universal health care. Equal rights for all people. Genocide in countries I could barely name. How could I pass up solving such major problems for so many others?
I rolled global crises around in my head for a few minutes. And then, I said, “Global warming.”
“Excuse me?” Teel’s words sounded liked they’d been punched out of a sheet of frozen metal.
I tried to project an air of confidence. “I’d like to solve global warming. Climate change. You know, polar bears drowning in the Arctic, drought in Australia, ecological disasters around the world.”
Teel closed her eyes and brought her hands together in a gesture of prayer. Her tattoo pulsed as she inhaled, then exhaled. Four times, she repeated the breathing exercises. Each time that she filled her lungs, the flames on her wrist glowed a little brighter, as if she were pumping a bellows, breathing fresh life into the tattoo. On the final exhale, Teel opened her eyes and stared at me levelly.
“Was that it?” I whispered, awed. “Global warming is solved?”
She snorted, scattering any semblance of peace and harmony. “Of course not. You’ll know when I grant one of your wishes.”
“But what were you doing?” I heard the wail behind my words, realized that I sounded like a spoiled child.
“I was calming myself. We had an entire afternoon seminar on that at MAGIC. On how to handle the Grand Wishes.”
“Grand Wishes?” I repeated.
“Ninety-eight out of one hundred first-timers try to save the world. Make a better planet.” She drew out that last phrase into a mocking sing-song.
I started to argue even before I wondered about those other two, the pair who didn’t have altruism running in their veins. “But you said—”
She cut me off. “You can ask me to solve global warming. And I can grant your wish. But I’m only one genie. And the globe is a very large place. Climate change is especially tricky—I have to balance everything, from one region to another, and every adjustment I make in one place will have an effect somewhere else. You know—butterflies, flapping wings, hurricanes, all that garbage.”
“So you can’t do it?” I was astonished to hear the disappointment in my voice. Half an hour before, I hadn’t even known that genies were real, and now I was sulking because mine was backing off from her promises.
“I can do it, but I wouldn’t finish up for…” she trailed off, staring at my office wall and moving her lips as she made some mental calculation. “Six hundred and forty-three years, twenty-seven days, four hours, and oh, give or take twenty minutes.”
“Wow.” I felt like I had to say something else, so I tried, “You can be that precise?”
“That’s one of the new requirements, in the revised contract. Page thirty-one?” She pointed a perfectly manicured nail toward the document that I’d signed. “Fulfillment delay for any wish that will take longer than twenty-four hours to grant must be disclosed in full to the wisher. Prior written notice must be provided in cases of time variance stemming from high Ethical Interference Quotient, extended Physical Impact Vector, or substantial Time Adjustment Factor. No written notice
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