Wish 25
“And
this
,” says Alli, pointing to a small circle of sharp points on the back of a Life Chip, “is the part that attaches to the spinal column upon insertion.”
I’m sitting in Alli and James’ office in the Engineering building and they’re lecturing me on the different parts of Life Chips. For the past few weeks I’ve visited with them, ate Alli’s snacks, and learned about their work as Engineers. To gain their trust I waited until now to ask them about the Chips, but I’ve enjoyed spending time with them so much that I honestly haven’t minded waiting. When I’m with them, life is simple. I can almost forget that I’m a professional killer, and that I’m putting my life in danger by trying to change everyone’s way of living and dying. I can almost forget that, while I
do
think of them as my friends, I’m deceiving and using them to meet my own goals. I just hope that, if worst comes to worst and I
am
discovered, Alli and James’ unwitting involvement will remain in the dark.
Alli hands me the newly-built Chip, and I rotate it in my fingers to expose the points on its back. As a Godparent, I never had a reason to examine the Chips. Although I still haven’t learned how to deactivate them without killing the user, I’m sure the knowledge the twins are giving me will still be useful.
“So this is attached just after birth, right?” I look up at the pair to confirm.
James nods. “Yes. When the doctors take the baby away to clean it, they also perform the surgery to install the Life Chip. Every newborn is implanted with this Chip, and because the Life Chip instantly heals the scar from the surgery, no one except the members of our organizations knows it happened.”
I knew most of that, but I didn’t realize the infants were implanted right after birth. How strange that even the parents of the baby have no idea that, in just a few minutes, their child’s life was so fundamentally altered. I voice this thought, and Alli giggles while James nods again.
“It’s like we’re all secret agents or something!” Alli seems, as Harrison would say,
tickled pink
by the idea.
I smile at her while holding back a laugh at the irony of her statement. Since they’re both in good moods, I decide to take a risk and steer the conversation the way I want.
“So,” I ask, cool and casual, “I know that the Life Chips signal the doctors when the individual needs a new organ transplant. What would happen if that signal never reached the Surgeons?”
I keep my face neutral, merely a curious Godmother who wants to learn about the engineering side of the Life Chips. Alli and James both ponder my question in silence for a few moments. James is the one to finally answer my question.
“Well, the Life Chip would continue functioning, but the organ that needs replacing would eventually die. And because the Life Chip speeds the regenerative process of the body, the person
would
die.”
Alli nods, elaborating on her brother’s explanation. “The body would basically run itself into the ground. If one organ dies, then everything else in the body kicks into overdrive to make up for the loss. But if the signal never reached the doctors, then those organs would die too. Depending on the severity of the condition, it could take anywhere between a week and a year. But no matter what, the patient
would
die.”
“So that’s why it’s imperative for us Engineers to make sure all Life Chips being implanted are in perfect condition,” concludes James.
Alright. So we can’t interrupt the Life Chip signal, because everyone would die very quickly. I nod, pretending that I was just asking to satisfy my own curiosity, but inside I’m annoyed that I haven’t learned anything useful yet.
I take a sip of the soda that Alli poured for me, enjoying the feeling of the bubbles against my lips. Suddenly a question pops into my head, one that I’ve never considered before.
“Huh,” I mutter. The twins look at me, identical looks of curiosity on their faces. I explain.
“I just thought of something. How exactly are the Surgeons able to perform the organ transplants? Wouldn’t any incision they make heal long before they’re able to make the switch?”
Alli and James look at each other, matching looks of concern on their faces. They each make slight movements with their heads in the silence, and I can’t help but feel like that they’re having a telepathic conversation. But the conversation ends in a few seconds. Alli smiles, James shrugs his shoulders, and they both look back at me.
“Okay,” Alli says, clasping her hands together. “What we’re about to tell you isn’t
exactly
supposed to be common knowledge.”
“In fact, no one but the Engineers know about it,” interjects James, but with a look from Alli he’s silent.
“Yeah, yeah, only we know about it. But we can trust Eliza!”
Pang.
“So Eliza,
do you wanna know a secret?” Alli leans forward, her eyes wide and sparkling. I nod, wondering what on Earth they could be talking about.
“Okay. So when the doctors need to perform a surgery on a patient, the patient is sedated first. Then, before the Surgeons begin their work, an Engineer comes in and turns off the Life Chip.”
A bolt of lightning shoots through me.
“Wait, what?” The shock in my voice is all too real, but I hide the excitement I feel.
This could be the key to everything!
It takes all my willpower to keep my voice neutral. “But wouldn’t that kill them?”
Alli grins. “Nope! Because we build the Chips, we know exactly how they work. And only Engineers know how to disable the regenerative abilities of the Life Chips without killing the user. We stop the healing properties, let the doctors perform the surgery, and turn the regenerative mechanisms back on before the patient wakes up.”
“So the Engineers can disable the Chips without killing the user?” I’m doing my best to keep from jumping up and down.
Alli and James nod in unison.
This is it. Even though I don’t know exactly how it’s done, I do know that there
is
a way to do it.
And with this information, maybe the Revolutionaries will know what to do.
*
After saying goodbye to the twins and promising to visit soon, I return to my office at Fairy Godparent Headquarters. I shut the door and lock it, ensuring that no one will interrupt me. I move over to my desk and press my thumb to the scanner. The bottom right drawer unlocks and I pull it open to expose the communicator disk Chief Darian gave me.
After taking a seat in my chair I press the red button in the center of the disk. There is a small clicking noise and then a blue-tinted screen appears, hovering half an inch above the disk’s surface. The screen shows the menu the Chief had described, and I whisper “New data.” The blank surface changes to a reflection of me, and a red dot in the bottom right corner shows that it’s recording.
“Oh, um,” I sputter, caught off guard by the immediate recording. I clear my throat and begin. “This is Consultant Hayworth. I’ve been gathering information from the Engineering Department, and I have come across a new piece of information. Before any surgery to replace failing organs, a team of Engineers shuts off the regenerative capabilities of the Life Chips to allow the Surgeons to complete their work. Also, I learned that it’s not enough to interrupt the signal the Chips transmit to the Surgeons
—
that will just lead to massive organ failure and eventual death. In order to shut down the Chips, we need to find out how the Engineers stop them before surgery.”
I stop speaking, but the red light keeps blinking.
“Oh, right. Um, end transmission.”
The light clicks off, the screen disappears, and when I press the red button the disk is dead in my hand once again.
I hope my information helps.
*
Time passes as it did before I learned of the Revolutionaries. I complete my Wish assignments, hang out with my friends, and enjoy the time I get with Harrison. But in the back of my mind, the same questions keep repeating: What is going on with the Life Chip research? Have they been able to make any progress, or is the project still where it was when I caught Robin in the Research Wing so long ago? Harrison can tell that I’m distracted, but because he doesn’t know the cause of my worries he just frets and tries to make me feel better.
One afternoon, as I’m finishing up a summary of a recent Wish I completed, I get a knock on the door from Roger the receptionist.
“Hey, Roger,” I say, glancing up to greet him before looking back down at my report.
“Hello, Godmother Hayworth,” Roger responds. He stands at the head of my desk and sets down a manila folder. “I just received a Wish submission for you. It’s scheduled for later this evening.”
I look at the folder, and then check the clock above my door. It’s later than I thought
—
I’ll have to get ready for the Wish completion right after I finish my summary. I thank Roger and he leaves, closing the door softly behind him.
I finish my report ten minutes later and set it aside to submit in the morning. I lean back in my chair, sigh, and rub my eyes. The beginnings of a headache are coming on, and I pinch the bridge of my nose in exhaustion.
Focus on one thing at a time, Eliza
.
I’ve been stressing out over the lack of word from the Revolutionaries, and I haven’t seen Robin for a few days now. I spent some time searching through all of the databases I have access to yet again, using the login I.D. Robin provided for me, but didn’t find any more useful information on disabling the Chips. I still printed out the information and gave it to Robin to pass on to Darian, but I feel useless overall. I shake my head to get rid of the lingering exhaustion, and then I lean forward to pick up the Wish folder Roger left for me.
The client’s name is Matthew Rodsen, and he is three hundred and seven years old.
Why does that name sound so familiar?
I skim
over the submission form absently. I pause and stare at the picture of the client, and realize with a start that he’s a neighbor I had from before I became a Godmother.
Although we weren’t close by any means, the fact that I will have to kill someone I used to know feels strange. Matthew
—
or Mr. Rodsen, as I used to know him
—
kept to himself quite a bit. But he had a fondness for the children in the neighborhood, and always kept a bowl of full candy on his porch for us. He hardly ventured outside of his house, but whenever we came by to get candy he would wave to us from inside and give the children a small smile. I heard some of the parents make snide comments about him, and others were afraid of him, forbidding their children from going near his house. I never understood those fears. Mr. Rodsen was just a shy, kind man who liked to make the children happy.
I look down at the address for his Wish and smile. He still lives in the house I grew up near, and has requested that he die while sleeping in the rocking chair by his front window. It will be fun to see the old neighborhood. My parents moved away after I left to become a Godparent, so I haven’t been to the area since. I’m sure the journey will still bring a wave of pleasant nostalgia. I take my Life Chip Extractor from the folder Roger gave me. I tuck it into my pocket, slip a syringe full of anaesthesia in the other, place my earpiece in my ear, and after throwing on my bottle-green coat I head out the door.
*
By the time I reach Matthew Rodsen’s house, darkness has descended over the world. Lamp lights hover suspended in the air, illuminating the neighborhood in a gentle glow. I smile as I pass by the house I grew up in. It’s a small, one-story home, painted in a light blue color with eggshell trim. We left the house once I finished my education and was accepted into the Fairy Godparent Organization. My parents moved to a modest, three bedroom condominium across the country, and I moved into the designated Godparent apartments.
I haven’t seen the old house since I moved, and to a part of me it feels like I’m coming home from school.
But I don’t turn onto the walkway. Instead I continue down the sidewalk, my footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night.
A few dozen paces later I’m standing in front of my client’s house. I suppress a laugh
—
even though so many years have passed, there is still a full bowl of candy sitting on his porch. I move up the path to his front door, and look down at the bowl. I slip a piece into my pocket next to the syringe for later.
Matthew Rodsen’s home is surprisingly empty. Unlike Marlene Rogers, who had a lifetime of trinkets around her apartment, his entryway is bare of decoration. I move into the front room and find that it’s the same in here. There are no items in the room except for a wooden rocking chair facing the window. Mr. Rodsen sits in this chair, a threadbare red blanket draped across his knees. I steal over to his side and am relieved to see his eyes closed in sleep.
I reach into my pocket for the syringe, but my hand collides with the candy wrapper. A crinkling noise echoes in the silence of the room, and Mr. Rodsen is awake in an instant. His eyes meet mine. I suddenly feel like I’m eight years old again, waving to him from the front yard while he smiles from inside. His gaze narrows as he focuses on my face, but then it widens in recognition.
“Eliza? Little Eliza Hayworth?” His voice is raspy from sleep. A smile breaks over his face. “My word, it’s been so long… Is that really you, Eliza?”
It boggles my mind how identical he looks to the last time I saw him almost seven years ago. His chestnut brown hair is still combed back from his forehead, and his violet eyes stare at me happily. I kneel down and give him a nervous smile.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I confirm. “But you… Um, you aren’t really supposed to be awake right now.”
He chuckles with a shrug of his shoulders. “I know, but since I knew these were going to be my last hours, I’ve been having a hard time staying asleep.” He looks at the syringe in my hand, then back to me. “So, I guess you’re my angel of death, then?”
I nod, trying not to wince at the phrase that brings back painful memories, and set the syringe on the floor. He lets out a soft sigh.
“That’s wonderful, you’ve found good work. Do you enjoy being a Fairy Godmother?” There is kindness in his eyes when he asks the question.
I open my mouth to answer, but different words come out of my mouth.
“Um, would
—
would you still like me to inject you? It feels like you’re falling asleep, and there won’t be any pain.”
He smiles at my dodge of the question and shakes his head.
“I suppose I would like that, but not right now. Would you give an old man a few minutes of conversation before he dies? A nice chat with a beautiful young woman is the last memory I would like to take with me into the unknown.”
I nod slowly. This is really deviating from the Wish submission, but there’s no way I can say no to such a sweet request. And I don’t mind making an exception in the Death Wish process for someone I used to know.
“How have you been, little Eliza? And how are John and Amy?”
His mention of my parents is said with fondness. They were one of the couples in our neighborhood who liked Mr. Rodsen, and spoke up in protest when any of the other parents were badmouthing him. But that’s the kind of people they were: always believing the best in others and treating everyone with compassion.
“They’re doing well,” I answer. I sink down from my crouch and cross my legs in front of me, no longer kneeling but sitting instead. “They’re living in a condo out on the west coast. I don’t get to see them much, but when we talk it seems like they’re doing well.”
“That’s good, that’s good,” he says, closing his eyes with a soft smile. He holds out his arm to me while he keeps talking. “So how old are you now, dear? It’s been quite some time.”
I recognize his signal that the time has come and lean down to pick up the syringe from the floor. “I’m twenty-four now, twenty-five in a few months. And you’re… three-hundred-and-seven, right?”
He nods. “Yes, it’s been quite a long life. It took me some time before I finally got up the courage to submit a Death Wish.”
I pause at his words, the needle hovering over his arm.
I can’t do this
, I think, panic starting to creep in.
He’s so nice, and being so kind to the person about to kill him. I can’t kill him.
It feels so strange
—
I haven’t felt nervous about completing a Wish since I was a pixie. But for whatever reason, whether it’s his words or the fact that I have a personal connection with the client, I can’t force my arm to move forward and push the drug into his veins.
He must sense my hesitation, because Mr. Rodsen opens his eyes.
“Eliza,” he whispers. “Please. I’m ready. The only reason it took this long for me submit a Wish is because I had to do it myself.”
Because I had to do it myself.
Those words echo in the empty room. They sink into my ears and fill my mind.
“Do
—
do you think it would be easier… if we could die like the Old Worlders did?”
I speak the words that echo the goal of the Revolutionaries in a hush.
“Do you wish we didn’t have to decide when we die? That it just
…
happened?”
I shouldn’t even be voicing these thoughts, but I can’t help but ask him. Maybe it’s because I know that, in a few minutes, he won’t be able to repeat my words to anyone. Matthew Rodsen’s eyes fill with pain and he nods.
“For so long, that’s all I’ve ever wished for. But since it never happened, I had to make a different kind of Wish.” He closes his eyes again. “Goodbye, little Eliza. And thank you.”
My breath hitches, and my eyes begin to burn. I have to dig deep into myself and find the motivation that first led me to join the Fairy Godparents: that I’m granting the final request of the man in front of me.
I steel myself, raise the needle again, and this time I am able to slide it under his skin. He winces slightly when the needle pierces him, but soon after the liquid enters his bloodstream his breathing lulls into unconsciousness. I slide the syringe back into my pocket and pull out my Life Chip Extractor.
I lean forward and pull his head toward me, letting him rest on my shoulder while I click out the Extractor’s blade. There is no resistance, only the limp muscles of deep sleep, and I choke when I feel the warmth of his cheek on my shoulder. The shakes begin in my shoulders but they soon make their way across my body. Before I realize what’s happening I find myself cradling him in my arms, clutching his slumped form to me while tears stream down my face at the knowledge of what I must do.
Because I know I have to do it. I can’t fail to complete this assignment without suspicion being cast on me. And besides, Matthew Rodsen said it himself: he’s ready to die. I can’t be the selfish one who refuses to give him his final release. I transfer his weight into one arm so I can pick my Extractor back up from where I dropped it on the floor. I take a deep breath, slice the blade across his neck, and pull his Life Chip from his spine.
When I move him back into the rocking chair, his entire body shudders with his death rattle before it stills for the final time.
I stand up, more tears in my eyes, and whisper into the now-empty darkness.
“Goodbye, Mr. Rodsen.”
I pull the piece of candy from my jacket and pop it into my mouth. But instead of the sweetness I expected, a bitter taste coats my tongue.