Death Wish

by Lindsey Menges

  “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.

  *

  I make my way back to the office in silence, replaying Matthew Rodsen’s Death Wish over and over in my head.

  I’ve had clients grateful when I came to complete their Wishes, but this felt different. It wasn’t just because I knew him, though that did affect me. It was different because he didn’t want to choose when he would die. He wanted it to happen naturally.

  I really hope there are others, besides the Revolutionaries, who agree with him, I think to myself as I reach Headquarters. I scan my thumb at the entrance and move forward when the gate pulls back, both my head and my heart heavy.

  Minutes after I get back to my office, there is a knock at my door. What now? After what just happened, I don’t know if I can handle completing another Wish. Not right now, at least. But when I look up, I see Robin staring at me from the doorway with barely-contained excitement.

  “We’ve got it,” she says, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  “It?” I’m too tired to figure out what she’s talking about.

  “We know how to disable the Life Chips. Let’s go.”

  Wish 26

  “Thanks to the tireless efforts of our team, we have never been closer to returning death to our world.”

  Darian moves at the front of the room, speaking to the gathered group of Revolutionaries. We are in the main computer room of the base; the soft whirring noises of the machines are overpowered by the Chief’s voice.

  “We thought we had figured out the puzzle before, but we were wrong. This mistake resulted in the deaths of Joel and Beverly Smith, and that is a mistake that we will carry in our hearts forever.”

  Darian bows his head, and everyone else in the room bows as well. A moment of silence passes before the Chief raises his head and continues.

  “But now, thanks to everyone’s work analyzing the new information we received from Agent Sloan and Consultant Hayworth,” he nods his head in my direction, and behind him I see James snarl, “we have found a way to shut off the Life Chips’ regenerative properties without killing the person in the process.”

  “However,” he continues, his voice somber, “after the previous mistakes we made, we will not proceed with this new information as we did before. We will no longer experiment with the lives of citizens. Instead, we will need a volunteer from this group. Their Life Chip will be disconnected, and if all goes well, they will be mortal, as they were when they first entered this world.”

  Everyone in the room gasps at this new revelation, and while the Chief continues speaking he moves his gaze around the room, making eye contact with each of his loyal followers.

  “I understand the risk, and I do not condemn anyone who shirks away from this responsibility. I know that it is a heavy burden, and is an unthinkable thing to ask of someone. But without this next step all of our work, everything we’ve fought for, will be for nothing. With that in mind, who would like to volunteer?”

  There is dead silence. After all, it’s one thing to work for a cause, but it is another to do something that could end your life in an instant. But there is movement to my left, and when I look I am shocked to see Robin’s hand raised.

  “I volunteer.”

  *

  “No!” A voice shrieks behind me.

  I turn and see that it’s Kelly, Robin’s girlfriend. She makes her way over to Robin, and starts begging her lover not to volunteer in frantic whispers. Robin pushes a strand of platinum blonde hair back from Kelly’s face, says something to her, and after giving her a quick kiss moves to the front of the room. Chief Darian has a very conflicted expression on his face—at first I thought it was sadness, but now it looks like pride.

 
; “Agent Sun,” he says, bowing his head to Robin when she reaches his side.

  She bows back before speaking in a clear voice. “I volunteer for this task. Run the experiment on my Life Chip.”

  Everyone in the room, including me, watches the scene unfold with baited breath.

  “You do realize that, if our research has erred in any way, this experiment could end your life?”

  The Chief’s words are those of a simple explanation, but there is a definite undercurrent of concern. It’s almost like he’s trying to convince her to revoke her offer.

  But it doesn’t work. Robin just nods and says “I do.”

  Kelly whimpers behind me and I move over to her. She is not openly sobbing, but there is a stream of tears falling down her cheeks and her shoulders are shaking. I place a hand on her back. She moves closer, seeking any form of comfort while the woman she loves volunteers for potential death.

  Darian nods and motions over two of the Revolutionaries. One of them is Doctor Sloan, but I don’t recognize the other one—a man with a shaved head, peach-colored skin, and gentle eyes.

  Darian gestures to the two doctors behind him. “As they are both Surgeons, Agent Sloan and Agent Wilkins will be performing the procedure.”

  Robin nods, and with instruction from Doctor Wilkins she follows them down a darkened corridor. Darian tells everyone that she is being taken to a room that has been sterilized and sectioned off for this procedure, but there is a viewing window for those of us that want to watch. Kelly darts forward and I trail behind her, everyone in the group following at our heels. We leave the computer room and move down the stone hallway outside before stopping in front of a glass pane facing into a brightly lit room.

  Inside there is a cushioned chair and a tray of surgical tools and supplies waiting for use on a rolling table. Robin and the two doctors walk in. Wilkins motions for Robin to take a seat. She obeys, sitting in the chair backwards and straddling it’s back so that when she leans forward the back of her neck faces the two Surgeons.

  The doctors are now pulling on rubber gloves and covering their mouths with face masks. Doctor Sloan brushes Robin’s hair back to expose the skin at the base of her skull, and swabs it down with a wet piece of cotton. She holds her hand out. Wilkins takes a small surgical scalpel from the tray and places it into her waiting palm. The metal glints in the light, and I wonder how the Surgeons were able to get a knife that can cut through the material over the Life Chip. As far as I know, only Godparents have access to that particular metal.

  Robin sits up suddenly, just as Doctor Sloan is getting ready to make the incision. We can’t hear what’s going on inside, but her lips form the word Wait. She looks out the window for a moment, and then turns to Doctor Wilkins to say something. At first he shakes his head, at odds with whatever Robin’s asking. But she’s insistent and before long he throws up his hands in defeat. He moves over to the door and pushes a small green button on an intercom attached to the wall.

  “Kelly Michaels,” he says, his gravelly voice coming out of the intercom speaker in our hallway, “Agent Sun has requested your presence in the operating room. Please follow Chief Darian to the decontamination station before entering the area.”

  Kelly lets out a small squeak and turns to me. I give her an encouraging smile and squeeze her shoulder before pushing her to the door where the Chief waits. They disappear into the darkness, and a few minutes later she enters the room.

  Robin looks a bit queasy, but when she sees Kelly those nerves are replaced with gratitude. She says something to Kelly, extending her hand toward her. Kelly nods and rushes over, enveloping Robin’s hand in her own. She sits down on the floor next to her girlfriend, their hands linked together.

  Doctor Sloan looks to Doctor Wilkins, who moves over to her side, and they begin the operation. Sloan uses the scalpel to make an incision at the base of Robin’s skull, right over the place her Life Chip is buried. Robin’s blood wells up and spills over the edge of the cut, and I get a sudden urge to stop the surgery, since the process is so similar to the completion of Death Wishes.

  I ball my hands into fists at my sides and sink my teeth into my bottom lip. If I don’t, I fear I might slam my hands against the glass and scream to the doctors inside. Wait, stop! I probably messed something up, don’t do the surgery! I don’t want you to kill Robin! But she has made her decision, so I hold my breath and pray with desperation that any information I gave was accurate.

  After making the incision, Sloan moves aside and Wilkins takes her place. He pulls out a long, needle-like instrument and inserts it into the gap in Robin’s skin. I have no idea what he’s doing with the device, but from my viewpoint I see him make a series of small, quick jabs on what I assume is the Chip’s surface. The second he pulls the needle out a high-pitched beep—that even the assembled group outside can hear—emanates from the wound. We see Robin gasp. She arches her back violently and then slumps forward onto the chair.

  Seconds tick by, and everyone standing in the hallway outside leans forward. But Robin remains silent and completely motionless.

  *

  We see Kelly whisper something, probably Robin’s name. When she doesn’t respond, Kelly starts shaking her girlfriend’s shoulder. Robin still doesn’t move, and out of the corner of my eye I see Darian look away. Murmurs of sadness rumble around me, but I don’t pay attention to them.

  I stare at the cut on Robin’s neck instead.

  “Wait a minute,” I say, but the noise doesn’t die down. “Wait!”

  This time everyone is silent. Dozens of pairs of eyes lock onto me, and I move forward, pressing my finger against the glass to point at Robin.

  “Look,” I announce. “The incision site isn’t healing over.”

  Sure enough, the blood that initially spilled over has dried into a crusty trail down her neck, but the cut beneath Robin’s skull is still open and gently pulsing out a new stream of red. Everyone turns away from me to look at her. Suddenly, Robin’s limp form begins to shake and her eyes fly open as she gasps for air.

  Joy erupts on Kelly’s face and we see her cry out before throwing her arms around Robin. But Robin’s face contorts in pain and Kelly pulls back. The gash in Robin’s neck is still open and leaking out blood. Before I can say anything, Chief Darian has pressed a finger to the intercom button on our side of the wall.

  “Doctor Sloan, that cut is too deep to heal over quickly,” he says, a trace of panic in his normally calm voice. “You’ll need to stitch it up immediately.”

  Sloan rolls her eyes because Doctor Wilkins has already retrieved a needle and thread from the nearby tray. They both bend over Robin, Wilkins holding her hair away from her neck while Sloan presses the needle into her flesh. Robin lets out small winces of pain, but Kelly is sitting by her feet again, gently rubbing Robin’s hand and murmuring words we can’t hear while the doctors repair her wound the Old World way. When they finish they both step back, and everyone both inside and out looks at Robin in awe. Kelly strokes her girlfriend’s hand. Robin looks out the window at the gathered crowd sheepishly.

  “How do you feel?”

  I turn to see who spoke, and I’m surprised to see that it’s James. Is he asking for Robin’s sake, or for the sake of the Revolutionaries? But Robin can’t hear us from inside, so Darian presses his finger to the button and repeats the question. Doctor Sloan moves over to their intercom and presses her finger onto their button so we can all hear Robin’s reply.

  “I—I don’t know,” she answers, and looks down at her changed body. “Doctor Wilkins,” she says, turning to the bald surgeon, “could you hand me your scalpel?”

  He nods and hands it over without question, clearly just as shocked as everyone else in the group. Robin takes it, thanks him, and looks up at me. She smirks, and when she turns her forearm over to reveal the soft underside the memory hits. I smile, remembering when I did this demonstration for her in her Godmother training. That days seems like eons ago, even though it was only a f
ew short months. Robin takes the scalpel and, before anyone can protest, she makes a quick, shallow slash on the skin just below the crease of her elbow. Everyone watches with baited breath.

  When I cut myself to show her the Life Chip abilities, my wound healed almost immediately. But now, the seconds turn into a minute, and the cut she made remains on her arm, an angry red slash for all to see. She lets out a gasp, and a huge grin breaks across her face.

  “Oh my God,” she exclaims while the assembled Revolutionaries erupt in cheers. “It worked!”

  *

  The doctors conclude, and Chief Darian agrees, that Robin will need to be kept under observation for some time. While it appears that her Life Chip has truly been disabled, they need to examine her to see what the effects of living without a Chip are. And assuming that she remains healthy and unaffected, they will begin disabling the Chips of other Revolutionary members to confirm a lack of negative side effects. Once safety is confirmed, and once we figure out a way to produce these results on a large scale, we will be able to shut off the Life Chips of everyone in our nation.

  A task that still terrifies me.

  I know that this is the right thing to do, and that it is something that we must do if we want to survive on this planet. But I still feel unworthy of making that decision for everyone.

  Of making that decision for Harrison.

  So while the party swells around me, with joyous Revolutionaries swapping drinks and jokes in celebration of a momentous step forward, I sit by myself in a corner of the dimly lit cave, cradling my blue pendent in my hands. All I want to do is call Harrison and confess everything. But even if I did, the communicator is nothing more than a pretty necklace while in these underground tunnels.

  A shadow crosses over me. I look up and see the Chief standing over me. His golden eyes glimmer in the low lighting.

  “Don’t feel like celebrating?”

  Amusement colors his voice. I shake my head, and he moves to sit next to me.

  “That really is a beautiful necklace,” the older man compliments, looking down at the stone I have cupped in my palms. “The person who made it for you must love you quite a bit.”