“Let That Be a Lesson”
With somewhat slurred speech, Tim said, “Hal, turn on the news.” His House AI turned on the television, and the light lit up the dark room, showing a disheveled man lying on a leather couch surrounded by empty beer bottles.
Tim winched, and covered his eyes from the glare. It took many blinks for his eyes to adjust enough for him to see some woman talking from apparently her home office. “…to pay Paul. Mister Lanis and his ilk love to come in and buy struggling businesses with promises to turn things around and make them profitable again, only for a year or so later these businesses to declare bankruptcy and the only ones to profit are these corporate leaches.”
The screen cut to a view of the newscaster who said, “But that wasn’t always the case.”
“No,” the woman replied. “When Mister Lanis hit the scene a decade ago, he was seen as a wunderkind, and rightfully so. Going from – basically – no money to his first billion in seven months is unprecedented. And he turned around the first ten businesses he bought, an unimaginable roll of good luck. But then came Wion, then Phulio, then XY Energy, and the last dozen businesses he’s bought have ultimately failed. Six months ago, when he bought Frask Manufacturing, I saw a news piece where an employee was interviewed saying he was already looking for a new job because ‘When Tim Lanis buys your company, that just starts a countdown to you losing your job and him making millions.’ And to that employee – and all at Frask – I’m sad to say that today that countdown hit zero. Some three thousand people are now out of a job, while Lanis is several million dollars richer.”
The newscaster came back with, “There has been some talk of investigating Mister Lanis for-”
“Turn it off.”
Hal turned off the TV and the room again fell into almost total darkness.
With a grunt, Tim sat up. After a moment, he asked, “Hal, what is the time?”
“It is 9:17 AM.”
“Hal, set an alarm for … 9:33.”
“An alarm has been set for 9:33 AM.”
Tim moved a bit to make himself more comfortable and waited. He dozed off a bit, but was jolted awake when the alarm blared.
“Hal, turn off the alarm.”
The alarm stopped.
After a moment, Tim said, “Hal, turn lights on, low.”
The lights turned on, but barely lit the room.
“Hal, brighter than that.”
The lights brightened, but Tim again commanded, “Hal, brighter than that.”
While still dim, it was finally bright enough to show the outrageously expensive, sparse furnishings covered in a blanket of empty bottles and pizza boxes.
“Hal, begin full recording of this room until I tell you to stop.”
“A full recording of this room has begun.”
“Hal, set a ten second countdown to 9:37.”
“A ten second countdown to 9:37 AM has been set.”
Tim looked around, then moved some beer bottles, but the room didn’t look any cleaner or more organized.
Shortly later, Hal began, “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero.”
Just as Hal said zero, a puff of bluish smoke appeared before Tim. The smoke dissipated revealing a small, bald, bluish man who floated a few feet in the air.
Tim stood up, but then sat down again, leaving him roughly eye-to-eye with the man.
The man glanced up to the ceiling, then lifted what looked like a clipboard. In a surprisingly low, monotone voice stated, “Greetings Tim Lanis. My name is unpronounceable by humans, but you may refer to me as Mark. I am from the Djinn Fulfillment Department and am here for your Decadal Wish Update.
“Ten years ago, you temporarily freed Genie Amelith from his prison and he granted you three wishes. Your first wish was for a billion dollars, but to accumulate it in a way that wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows.” Checking his clipboard, Mark stated, “That wish has been fully granted.”
Flipping a page, Mark continued, “Your second wish was for fame. Due to your actions, over four billion people know your name and most of them could identify you. We deem that that wish has also been fully granted.”
After flipping to the next page, Mark said, “Your third wish was your actions to lead to a whole chapter dedicated to you in some future history book. That wish has yet to be fulfilled, but is on track to be fulfilled.”
Tim shot up and yelled, “How? I was supposed to cure cancer, or solve climate change, or …. Not be some rich loser asshole.”
Mark consulted his clipboard. “In the future, a history book titled: Why Capitalism Ultimately Failed will be written. Rest assured, there will be a full chapter in it about you.”
Lowering his clipboard, Mark said, “That concludes this Decadal Wish Update. See you again in ten years at the appointed time.” With another puff of bluish smoke, Mark disappeared.
After a moment, Tim slumped back onto the couch. “Hal, you can stop recording.”
“I am sorry,” Hal replied. “No recording was in progress, and I have no record for any such request. Should I conduct a diagnostic test?”
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If you liked this story, you might want to check out The Most Powerful Man in the World and other stories, my collection of five, short, scifi stories.