Off to Be the Wizard - 2 - Spell or High Water (38 page)

“Or find my way back again,” Jimmy said, instantly
regretting it.

“Oh, don’t worry about that!” Phillip said. “I intend to spend every moment between now and the day you step out of line thinking up new, awful ways to prevent that from
happening
.”

“What if I never step out of line?”

A bitter smile crossed Phillip’s lips. “Then I get to spend an eternity imagining demeaning things to do to you. Not a bad consolation prize.”

“I see,” Jimmy said.

“If you stay,” Phillip continued, “for a probationary period your access to the shell will be severely limited.”

Jimmy asked, “How limited?”

“Oh,” Phillip said, “look who has questions all of a sudden. Mister ‘I’ll take the second option’ wants some details.”

Jimmy said, “Make no mistake; I’ll take the second option. I just asked out of curiosity.”

“You can conjure up food and water. You can create money, but there will be limits on how much you can make per week. You can teleport, but only to certain defined geographic locations. If you want to go anywhere else, you need permission from at least two other wizards, or you can fly. By the way, your flight will be limited to an altitude of fifty feet above ground level and a speed of twenty-five miles per hour. We only gave you that so that the locals wouldn’t be able to beat you to death as soon as they see you. I lost that vote. You will have no access to edit the shell, which means no macros, and for the duration of your
probation,
every time you use magic it will automatically be logged in a document that any of us can read at any time. That way we can keep tabs on you.”

Jimmy nodded as if all of this were expected. After a moment, he asked, “How long is the probationary period?”

Phillip said, “Until we unanimously vote to lift it, so pretty much forever.”

Jimmy said, “Fair enough.”

Jimmy was allowed to touch the ground again, and was treated to a full round of mumbled greetings and suspicious looks. He graciously thanked everyone for this second chance, then had the good sense to keep his mouth shut and try to blend into the background. He figured he’d be doing a lot of that from now on.

Roy’s macro was quite impressive. With the clenching of his fist he caused a volcano to emerge from the ground spontaneously and erupt in a thick lava flow. It would certainly make an impression on any local who witnessed it, and it impressed the wizards even more so, since they could all instantly recognize that the volcano was papier-mâché and the lava flow was made up of baking soda and vinegar foam and food coloring.

The next morning, Martin called Phillip to discuss the Jimmy situation.

Martin said, “I don’t like it.”

“Then why’d you vote in favor of it?” Phillip asked.

“It’s like I said last night: he’s demonstrated that he’s not going to just slink away and leave us alone. We’re not going to kill him. At least this way we can keep an eye on him.”

“Yeah,” Phillip said. “If only there was a way to keep an eye on him without having to look at him all the time.”

“Well, I guess the good news is that he’ll probably avoid the two of us for the most part. And Tyler, I’d assume. Heck,
especially
Tyler.”

Phillip said. “I wish that made me feel better. That’s the worst thing about this. There’s no way to win. I don’t want him
anywhere
near me, but I’m uncomfortable having him out of my sight. There’s nothing he can do that will make me comfortable. He has my complete distrust.”

“But, to be fair, that’s nothing new. You never trusted him.”

“No,” Phillip said, “that’s not true. There are different kinds of trust, and up until yesterday, I knew in the bottom of my soul that I could count on Jimmy to do what was best for himself. Now, though, he’s trying to prove that he’s changed, and that means he’ll try to do the right thing for everyone.”

Martin said, “That sounds pretty good.”

“Yeah, but it isn’t, “Phillip said. “Because he’s got such a twisted view of morality, there’s no telling what he’ll think the right thing is.”

EPILOGUE

862 years later.

Agent Miller leaned against the wall. His hard-soled dress shoes were killing him, and the hard concrete floor wasn’t helping, but the warden had been adamant that nothing that could be used as a weapon could be allowed anywhere near the prisoner. Given the prisoner’s familiarity with professional wrestling, a folding chair definitely qualified as a potential weapon.

Miller asked, “What’s our next move, kid?”

“Uh-uh-uh,” Todd said, scolding Agent Miller. “That’s not how we do things. We have an agreement. I give you information, you answer a question. Squid pro quo.”

“I told you, kid, it’s ‘quid pro quo.’”

Todd rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and I told you, I’ve seen
Silence of the Lambs
like, three times, and it’s ‘squid pro quo.’”

“We’ve been through this, kid. ‘Squid pro quo’ makes no sense.”

Todd snorted. “Oh, and ‘quid pro quo’ makes all the sense in the world.” Todd crossed his eyes, made his teeth stick out of his mouth, and flapped his arms limply while repeating “Quid pro quo! Quid pro quo!” He laughed at how stupid Agent Miller was being, and said, “I told you, the hero, that Hanimal guy, was a fancy chef, and squid pro quo was like, the name of his favorite dish, or something.”

Miller growled. “‘Quid pro quo’ is Latin.”

“Oh yeah? Do you speak Latin?”

Agent Miller asked, “Is that your question?”

Todd stiffened. “No. I wouldn’t waste a question on something that stupid. Here is my question, Agent Miller. Have you ever shot a man in the face?”

“No,” Miller growled. “I have not.”

Todd chuckled as if he was disappointed, but not surprised. “Fine,” he said. “Your answer is satisfactory. The next step is to type in ‘dir.’”

“Dir?”

“Yes. Obviously. It stands for ‘directory.’ Tell your
partner. Now.”

Miller said, “Don’t tell me what to do, kid.”

Todd snorted again. “Miller, the whole reason you’re here is so I can tell you what to do.”

Miller attempted to kill Todd with nothing more than prolonged furious eye-contact. When it became clear that it wasn’t working, he shouted, “Murph! Type ‘dir!’”

From around a corner, down a hall, through a locked gate, and well beyond the range of Todd’s magnetic field, Murphy yelled, “Dir?”

“Yes,” Miller shouted, without tearing his eyes away from Todd. “D-I-R! It means ‘directory’!”

“Obviously,” Murphy replied. Miller’s attempt to stare Todd to death backfired, in that it only gave him a good view as Todd laughed at him.

After a few seconds, Murphy’s distant voice called out. “It’s giving me a big long list of stuff. Do I need to read it all out, or does he know what we’re looking for?”

Miller asked, “Well, you heard him. Do you know what we’re looking for?”

Todd smiled. “Squid pro quo. Agent Miller. Have you ever shot a man in the junk?”

Miller said, “Not yet.”

SECOND EPILOGUE

2,492 years earlier.

Puffy white clouds coasted over a choppy blue-gray sea, which surrounded an island with swaying palm trees and white sandy beaches.

Brit materialized, closed her eyes, and exhaled. Five seconds ago, she had been Brit the Younger. A hundred years later, she knew she would become Brit the Elder, but for now, finally, she was just Brit.

Her farewell from Atlantis had been a pretty heavy emotional scene. Live anywhere for fifty years and you’re going to feel some emotions when you leave, even if you’ve been looking forward to moving on. The fact that she knew she was just leaving to build Atlantis in the first place, and that she was doomed to return whether she wanted to or not, didn’t seem to matter to her tear ducts.

She had wanted to keep things low key. She invited Gwen and Martin out to see her off, and asked Brit the Elder to come over, and to please bring Ampyx.

Ampyx was in his sixties now. He was still technically Brit the Elder’s servant, but since he had aged and she hadn’t, she spent more time taking care of him than the other way around. It had been interesting to watch Ampyx’s role in Brit the Elder’s life change over the years. He’d gone from grateful servant to trusted assistant, to loyal confidant, to wise advisor, and had finally settled into funny old crank. He had also married and had several children and been widowed in the meantime.

Brit didn’t see the need for her transitioning to this new chapter of her life to be a major event. Thanks to teleportation and time travel, relocating to another time was no more of an inconvenience than moving to a new apartment. She could still go visit anybody she wanted any time she wanted. Really, she still lived in the same place, just a century or so earlier. There was no need to make it a big deal. She just wanted to be seen off by a few friends. In retrospect, she felt foolish forever thinking that she might get her way.

The first sign that her goodbye had been hijacked was when Brit the Elder showed up early, with Ampyx and Phillip.

“Why did you bring him?” Brit the Younger whispered just quietly enough to be certain that Phillip would hear it.

Phillip said, “Look, I can go. I don’t want to—”

Brit the Elder turned and pleasantly shushed Phillip, then told Brit the Younger, “I invited Phillip because he’s Phillip.”

“Yeah, I know he’s Phillip. Phillip and I aren’t getting along right now.”

Phillip said, “Seriously, I’ll just go—”

Both Brits shushed him, one pleasantly, the other not
so much.

Brit the Elder said, “I know you two aren’t getting along right now. Maybe he and I are?”

“Well, your relationship with him has nothing to do with me.”

“Well, I’m the future version of you, so my relationship has everything to do with you.”

Brit the Younger furrowed her brow. “Okay, wait. Is that some future Phillip, or is he my Phillip?”

Brit the Elder smiled. “Your Phillip? I thought you weren’t getting along.”

“Yeah,” Phillip added. Both Brits shushed him. Neither one was very pleasant about it.

“I am not going to miss you,” Brit the Younger seethed at
the Elde
r.

Brit the Elder said, “Yes, you are,” and hugged Brit the Younger. When the unidirectional hug ended, Brit the Elder said, “And now it’s time.” She swiped her finger through the air a few times, made a selection, and all four of them—both Brits, Phillip, and Ampyx—were transported to the park at the center of the city. Every sorceress in Atlantis, along with every important merchant in town, all of the citizens, elected officials, representatives from most of the other time-traveler colonies, Nik and his husband, and Gwen and Martin. Looking up at the city, Brit the Younger could see that every window, every balcony, every public space with a view of the bowl was filled with people.

The next twenty minutes were a blur of heartfelt speeches and firm handshakes. In the end, she managed to say a few words without blubbering too horrendously. The last person she spoke to before officially leaving was Brit the Elder. They both understood that it was just good showmanship for their goodbye to be saved for last.

To Brit the Younger’s surprise, she heard herself say, “Thanks for arranging this.”

Brit the Elder said, “Are you kidding? It was my pleasure. You earned it by putting up with me all these years, and besides, how often do you get to plan your own goodbye party?”

Then Brit transported to the place and time she’d always known she’d go eventually, and the Brit the Younger part of her life was over.

Right now, in Atlantis,
she thought
, well, not
right now
. Right now is right now, and I haven’t built Atlantis yet. But in the future, just after the time that felt like right now a minute ago, Brit the Elder is just Brit, and so am I. We’re both flying solo.

The thought both scared Brit and made her laugh.
Of course, she’s flying solo for life. In a couple of hundred years, I’m going to have Brit the Younger to deal with. As I remember, she could be kind of a handful.
Brit laughed again.

That was a problem for another day. For now, she could enjoy her solitude. Tonight, she would build a shelter. She was picturing a perfectly clear dome made of diamond, the world’s most expensive igloo. It would keep wind and rain off, but allow her to look at the stars and the waves whenever she wanted, and because there was nobody around, she didn’t need to worry about anyone looking in at her.

Brit cracked her knuckles, then limbered up her fingers, and started scrolling through menu options, preparing to start construction of her new home when she was severely startled by a voice behind her.

“You’d better get to work, girlie. Shelter’s not going to build itself.”

Brit spun around and found herself face to face with herself, only the other version of herself was wearing some kind of shawl.

“I know, dear,” the other Brit said. “You didn’t expect to see me here. You see, I’ve been the only Brit around for a few hundred years now, and it’s been great, but I’ve always felt guilty that you got stuck building Atlantis on your own, so I figured I’d come back here, keep you company, and kinda, you know, supervise.”

Brit made several confused, guttural noises.

“I know. It’s a surprise. If it makes it easier to keep things straight, you can call me ‘Brit the Much Elder.’ Or how about ‘Grand-Brit’?”

Brit made more inarticulate noises. Grand-Brit looked concerned for as long as she could, before finally cracking up and laughing.

“Kidding!” Grand-Brit said. “I was kidding.”

Grand-Brit disappeared, and Brit was left alone.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’d like to thank my wife Missy for continuing to put up with me.

I’d also like to thank Allison DeCaro, Jen Yates, John Yates, Debbie Wolf, Mason Wolf, Rodney Sherwood, Leonard Phillips, Ric Schrader, David Pomerico, everybody else at 47North, and the readers of my comic strip,
Basic Instructions
.