Work Text:
Even as a boy, Wish had felt it. That Strange Thing.
He would look upon their Gods, their Children Divine, and feel pity.
The others would sing their Praises, their Gratitude, their Love, and so did he, along with all the rest. But underneath the notes crept solemn sense of guilt. He had not understood, then, why those Immaculate beings, who graced their horizons with their Beauty and their Promise, inspired such a feeling within him as he gazed out at their cans.
He chased the Answer from Humble Roots.
His father had little to his name; A Title or two, nothing he would bother to Introduce himself with. A City technician, he served the most humble beings within the people’s homes, those purposed organisms that provided for the People their Lives of Comfort.
A technician’s salary would never cover Higher Schooling for Wish.
Wish was forced to earn it. Setting upon his schooling with a fervor that matched the Divine, he graduated the public Academy Top of his Class, with Honors.
But a public Academy diploma meant little. Wish poured himself into an essay, a cry for Scholarship. The culmination of all he had learned, of all he had Wished. When his father read it, he wept.
Wish stole money from him, after, as he had done for years. A slow and painless Betrayal, a small trickle of Fortune. With it, he paid the exorbitant price to print out his Soul on Paper and in Ink.
Before the University gates, he prowled, thrusting his essay into the hands of any even mildly Official-looking individual who wandered past his person. It was a startling thing, to be suddenly handed a Paper, printed in Ink, and few seemed to know what to make of it or him.
It worked. He had known it would, that it must. A Notable Professor—a former Divine Architect, no less—sponsored his Study.
He did not waste the chance.
His first Thesis, a theoretical essay postulating on the mental capacity of small purposed organisms entitled “Minds Beyond Purpose”, earned him Honors, a Seat of Debate and his first minor Title. Exhilarating, was the thrill of success. He chased Titles ever after.
He earned his Foundational Degree with no less than Four Titles to his name, and dove back into University without delay, rising ever higher. He learned all there was to learn about the Iterators, or so he thought, and on the cycle of his Ascendant Graduation, upon the delivery of his Culminating Thesis, was offered the position of Professor in the School of Divine Architecture.
With the Position, came a Gift: access to forbidden knowledge. The classified Library of the Architects opened to him. All the stored Knowledge of the Hands Across Time. With this, he felt his Purpose became clear.
Upon the back of Five Pebbles, Wish stood and Promised to him his Life and Service.
Life as a High Professor was a blur. He taught, he learned, he experimented, he engineered. He wore Titles like Jewelry. He learned to paint and write poetry, if only to collect further Award. His projects earned him global Acclaim, and more than one of his Engineering Propositions were Considered and used in the ongoing construction of the newest Iterator.
It was during this time he turned his hunger to a New and Greater Goal.
Two Sprouts upon a Field of Ash, Divine Administrator of Five Pebbles, was retiring.
He had never felt such elation, such Drive. He would assume this Role, he knew it.
He spent a third of a year in preparation, crafting his Appeal. He had to be Perfect, Undeniable. It was a major hurdle, being still so young. To be chosen now would make him the youngest Divine Administrator to be Appointed in several centuries.
With confidence, grace, and charm, he Appealed the Administrative Board, baring his Soul, his Merit, before them, just as he had done those startled Academics when he was but a boy.
He Failed.
Two Sprouts had pulled him aside, after, and apologized. They told Wish that he was Highly Qualified, Admirably Titled, but far too young, and that in other circumstances they might have chosen him, but their hands were tied. It was a matter of Respect, they had said.
Instead, he was offered a lesser Role as an Administrative Advisor. He took it.
His chance was gone. Still, he resolved help his Iterator by steering the Board in the direction of his Grace’s Benefit, and by engineering the most efficient and graceful Solutions to any problems that arose.
Years he spent, doing just that. Researching, considering, improving. Gathering Titles, Decorations, and Honors. Honing his numerous crafts, earning the Respect of his Peers.
It all culminated, then, in his Greatest Accomplishment yet: Appealing the Global Council of Architects for the global removal of a particular hard-coded Taboo.
Healing the Gods.
Iterators, as it stood, were not allowed the ability to consciously manage their bioprinters. The systems automatically replenished their biological pieces regularly, as they degraded and required renewal. But an Iterator could not bioengineer anything within their bays other than what limited blueprints their creators deemed Necessary, nor could they stop any replication designated as critical to their structure’s upkeep.
Long ago, an Iterator’s bay had erred, spawning malformed biomass that spread throughout her microstratum. Slowly, her cells were replaced, one by one, with those that contained the Fault. With her systems degrading, she lost the ability to communicate accurately with her structure, to send signals to her body, and could do nothing as her own automated reassembly systems spread the plague. She withered with frightening speed.
Her Technicians could do nothing about it. They mourned her, and moved on. To this day, her husk still stands, cold and silent. A Somber Grave.
First Iterator Lost.
A painting of her, titled such, hung in his office. She towered over the Grand City beneath her and watched him work, always.
Her death was a Failure, a Great Dishonor. Her Architects had been Shamed.
And yet, millennia later, nothing had been done. An anomaly, they called it, an unfathomably unlucky event that would never be repeated.
They were wrong. In every Iterator, the fault still existed, and there was no saying when this might happen again. By the time the Architects were able to react, the afflicted Iterator would have already lost function to the point that they may never be recovered. Caught early enough, an Iterator might be able to stop the spread, if they were not denied the chance by their own programming. Why force them to rely upon Appealing a Board of People, who then take months or years to make Progress, when the Iterators exist for the express purpose of solving Problems? They had made them to find Solutions, but tied their hands as to which they were allowed to Pursue.
Folly.
And so he stood before the Board, the Council, the Architects, the Divine Administrator and all his peons, and cried an Appeal to them once more.
They had crippled their Gods out of Fear, he had argued. To deny them the Ability not only slowed their Progress, delaying the Solution, but disallowed the Divine to protect themselves in ways their Technicians could not, should the cruel Hand of Fate reach for one so callously, once more.
The Forum do not go horribly, but it certainly was not received with Positive Airs. He was shunned, for a time, by nearly half his Peers. To question the First Architects was shameful, they said, the Taboos a Necessity. It was not his Place.
There was real fear in lifting Taboos. Fear that if the Iterators were to command too much Power, they would not Care for their People. That if they were not forced to Rely upon their creators for their health, that they would become Callous.
Even still, a year later, Divine Architects and Administrators arrived from around the world to tread upon the back of Five Pebbles, to gather and to hear him, his Wish, to consider his Plea. Five Pebbles himself was in attendance, listening through overseer to his argument, judging Wish and his life’s work along with all the rest.
Three years later, after countless Forums and seemingly endless Debate, it was Approved. Decades were spent engineering and incubating the new systems worldwide.
Wish directed the effort himself. The Greatest Pride he would ever achieve, the Peak of his Existence, his ultimate Mark upon the world. He was sure he would never rise higher.
Until it happened.
The Divine Administrator’s unexpected Death. A good man, he was, but Wish was selfish, and could not help himself but to feel a glow of Hope upon his receipt of the news. As he listened to Five Pebbles’ announcement of his Administrator’s demise, he felt nothing less than a flaming surge of Ambition.
He did not have to Appeal, this time, to argue his Merit. He was older now, more Decorated; the Obvious Choice. The Board summoned him, stood before him, and begged his cooperation. Pleaded with Wish to accept their offer of the thing he desired more than anything else.
He assumed the Role of Divine Administrator that very cycle.
He was not immediately Taken to his new Life. The pace of it was so… slow. So relaxed. His Duty was to Serve his Iterator as the representative of his citizens. To be the one to interact directly with Five Pebbles, to hear his concerns and convey them to the Board and to the People, and to bring to him their Needs to be Addressed.
This was not demanding work. Five Pebbles had little interest in Wish, and while his Iterator served his People and attended his Duties Admirably, he did not go out of his way to interact with the Board or with Wish. Dutifully chipping away at the Solution, he seemed not to have the time nor patience for any other matter.
Their first meeting was so… so…
Uneventful.
Two Sprouts had emerged from Retirement for the introduction.
Wish had overcome so much difficulty, before this. He knew well this feeling of anxiety, the nervous dread of stepping into the Unknown. But as he stood in the entry hall of Five Pebbles, preparing to Meet him, he felt his Life would Culminate within that chamber.
He followed Two Sprouts inside and gazed upon his God.
Sprouts greeted Five Pebbles, and Introduced Wish, listing off the Greatest of his Titles and Honors. Wish glowed as he recited them, reveling up at the Iterator through his mask.
Five Pebbles did not return his gaze. Staring at his holographic screens, his Regal puppet glowing in the flickering light, he nodded along to Wish’s Titles with disinterest.
When Sprouts had finished, he bowed, placed a hand on Wish’s back, and pushed him forward.
Five Pebbles did look down at him, now.
“One Wish Granted, a Handful Denied. I have reviewed your work. Impressive. A pleasure to meet you.” He said, in a voice that lacked emotion. “I look forward to working with you.”
It took a moment, for Wish gather himself enough to speak, and as the seconds ticked past he felt quite foolish.
“It—" He cleared his throat. "It is an Unimaginable Honor to Serve you, my Iterator.” He said, dumbly, through a stutter.
“Yes. Very good. I will send summons when you are needed.”
Five pebbles returned his attention to his calculations, and Sprouts moved a firm hand to Wish’s shoulder, ushering him to the exit and out of the chamber.
“Is that all?” Wish had asked.
The Divine Administrator he once had so Admired looked to him and said:
“You, my Friend, have Fallen upon the easiest Job in the world.”
Easy, indeed.
Five Pebbles required frustratingly little of him. The majority of the work had Wish ferreting messages between the Board and his Iterator, and little else.
Divine Administrator. A Decorated Role… A Glorified Errand Hand.
He felt Lost. His life to this point had been a Pursuit, a Progrssion of Accomplishment. Now, he was Sworn to his Iterator’s Service, and taking on any other Role in addition to this would be a Grave Insult.
He knew he should feel elated. He had achieved his Greatest Dream.
And yet, as he stood within the chamber of Five Pebbles and gazed up at his puppet, so Regal and Divine, he felt that creeping feeling, as he always had. The pity. The guilt.
Five Pebbles was Imprisoned. Encumbered. Surely the others saw it too? If they did, none dared Voice it.
Did Five Pebbles?
If only Wish could help him.
Cycles rolled past. The only times that Five Pebbles ever appeared to show the slightest amount of Joy was upon receipt of Gifts—pearls. He saw it in the twitch of his hands as he read them, the immediate Attention he gave upon the realization that a new treasure had arrived.
Wish felt, very strongly, that there must be something more he could do, but had little else to Give. And so, he brought him pearls. Curated for Five Pebbles the finest Arts, Histories and Compositions. The only small pleasures an Iterator was allowed.
But he always sought to do More.
One day, foolishly, Wish took his easel with him to one of their Ordained Meetings and set it up within the small chamber. He would brighten up that cold and empty room. Provide Comfort. Do something.
“What are you doing?” Five Pebbles had asked him, after the Meeting had concluded, as Wish began to Compose.
“I thought I might keep you company, my Iterator, while I worked on my Poetry.” Wish said, tone playful, and wiggled the pen at him.
“…That is not necessary.”
“It would be my Pleasure and my Honor. Should I not be close at Hand, in case my Services are needed? As a fellow appreciator of the Arts, I thought you might enjoy the Craft.”
Five Pebbles did not reply.
He wrote, elated at the Privilege, failing to notice his Iterator’s discomfort.
It continued, for a short time. Wish would spend his free time there in his Iterator’s chamber, attempting to provide Companionship, and Five Pebbles would attempt to dissuade him from doing so without Offending his Honor.
Wish only heard what he wanted, and did not consider his Iterator’s Position. So self-important, was he, that he felt entitled to Five Pebbles’ time. Felt as if he was doing him a Favor.
One day, the Council called upon Wish, and when he arrived there he was Reamed. Five Pebbles, knowing not what else to do, had contacted another Divine Administrator. Looks to the Moon’s.
The Deepest Shame. He once again had to Appeal his Merits, had to beg and cry his Worth, his Apologies, as the Council considered Forced Resignation. No Greater Dishonor was imaginable.
His Work resumed under Review and Monitor.
He apologized profusely to Five Pebbles, who waved off the Offense with Grace. It was more than Wish deserved. He took to his Duty with a Deathly Seriousness, then, appearing only when he was needed, keeping the distance his Iterator so desired.
Still, he brought the Gifts. Still, he saw the Joy, if only a flicker.
A few years, and his Review was lifted. He and his Iterator settled into a comfortable, formal relationship, which he took care not to overextend.
Some cycles, Wish felt as if they were growing closer, so slightly. More comfortable. Conversations became longer, when appropriate. Wish thought their shared appreciation of the Arts and Sciences was endearing him to his Iterator, and selfishly hoped the assumption was true.
Even knowing better, he desired to do more.
During the Fourth Year of his Employment, Wish dared to offer Five Pebbles a different sort of Gift.
“My puppet does not require further decoration.” Five Pebbles had said, when Wish appeared in his chamber, sun-shimmered fabric held in hand.
“Require? Of course not.” Wish replied. “You are Immaculate, my Iterator. I would never dare to suggest your puppet might be improved upon. I’ve always admired your Practical Nature, so Tempered.”
Five Pebbles spared a glance at Wish, at his Gift, unreadable. Always Above, always Greater. His pearls arranged behind his puppet in a glowing halo, accentuating his Grace.
Wish hoped he might get him to come down, someday. Have a talk, eye to eye.
A selfish Wish.
He continued. “An Iterator must be above vanity, of course. But, surely you have not forgotten, your mind so Great, that it is the Anniversary of your Cycle of Birth, Five Pebbles. All children should receive Gifts from their parents on so celebrated a dawn. It is our Most Humble Duty, and as I see no others, here, attending this responsibility, it seems the task has fallen to me.”
He held the golden fabric up high and fluttered it, emphasizing how it shined.
“An Iterator might still appreciate Beauty, no?” Wish sang, feeling brave. “Not too busy to admire the sparkle.”
Five Pebbles stared down at him, expression neutral, calculated. Still, Wish saw how his fingers twitched at the suggestion, and smiled up at him through his mask.
“If I were to accept this adornment, you would be satisfied? I have no intention to celebrate.” Five Pebbles asked.
“Ah, but speaking and standing before you is all I could Ask, my Iterator. You need not suffer Compromise, for my sake." Wish said, a pout in his tone. He raised the fabric to his cheek. “I nearly did not have time to have this one made. I ordered it a half year in advance. The patterns are so Intricate, you see, they shift in color and shape with the viewer’s Perspective. It must be seen closely to be appreciated. The Labor involved… well. I suppose I will order sooner, next time, and expect even Greater Result. Perhaps next year, even you might find yourself Impressed?”
Wish folded the Gift, mask turned downward. He ran his hand over its surface, and sighed, exaggerating his disappointment.
“I will return it to its Artist, and Ask that they do More for you next try.” He said, very sadly.
“No. I will receive it.”
His Iterator’s puppet descended, suspended gracefully before him, and Wish kneeled and proffered his Gift for him to take.
Five Pebbles held his puppet’s arms out. “You may.”
Hiding his elation, remaining silent, Wish wrapped the sash about his the puppet. He took his time, tying it just such, for the most appealing drape. Reaching into his pocket, Wish removed a finely woven thread, red and white and shining in the light, and looped it around the sash’s knot in an elegant, practiced bow. The ends trailed beautifully, curled and sparkling.
“Ah, my Heart is Aflutter, my Iterator, how truly Splendid.”
Five Pebbles considered the Gift, running his puppet’s palms over the fabric, before summoning an overseer to project an image of his puppet so that he could see.
“Yes, this is pleasing. The patternwork is immaculate, just as you assured.” He was gazing down at the cloth, pinching it between his fingers, admiring the quality. He turned to look at Wish, eye level with him. “Thank you, Wish Granted.”
The Pride he felt. A Gift like no other.
Every year, Wish would bring his Iterator a sash, and every year Five Pebbles would allow him to Adorn him. Their Ritual.
And so they spent these years together, slowly coming to understand one another. Wish did his best not to overstep. He spent what time he could with Five Pebbles, and always left when he felt he was unwanted, which was often. He showered his Iterator with Gifts when he was receptive, fine Arts and Plays and Music, his favorite things. He thought they were becoming closer. Something like friends.
Slowly, he came to Know Five Pebbles, who he truly was. Less of a God, and more of a Person.
Wish spent his cycles composing, writing and painting, whenever there was no Work to do. He settled into this calm, pleasant life he had found. No Projects. No Mission. He felt separate from who he had been before. Where had the Drive gone, the Ambition?
His hands had grown wrinkled and weathered from time, when he realized, so suddenly, the position he’d found himself in. Standing in Five Pebbles’ chamber, composing a poem. Doing exactly what had driven a wedge between him and his Iterator, so many years ago. Anxiety struck him.
“Five Pebbles, my Iterator.”
Five Pebbles hummed, not looking down from the monitors to which he paid his attention.
“Do you find me a burden?”
His Iterator appeared to startle, subtly, at Wish’s words. He looked down at him.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Wish sighed. “Ah, well, I’ve come to the startling realization—just now—that I am doing the very thing that nearly had me Forcibly Resigned, all those years ago.”
“What?”
“...It appears I am composing Poetry, in your chamber, while you work. Would you prefer I do so elsewhere?”
His Iterator’s puppet descended so that Wish did not have to crane his neck to look at him. He was Grateful for the consideration, as doing so caused him an uncomfortable ache.
Five Pebbles put a hand to his puppet’s face, where his mouth would have been had he had one, appearing to consider. A very Person-like gesture, one Wish had always found endearing.
“I may have been too hasty, then…” Five Pebbles began, with a wave of his hand. “…No, you were. Too hasty. I did not know you, and yet here you were, forcefully inserting yourself into my chamber, my work. Beyond your duties. I believe my frustration was justified.”
“I can only agree,” Wish sighed. “If only I had been more Considerate. You did attempt to tell me, but I did not yet understand you, then. I Worshipped you, but I did not Consider you.”
“If only you had. Clearly, we would have made it to the point where you might spend such time here, as we do so now. I regret, if nothing else, that we so misunderstood each other.”
Wish went silent, drawing little patterns in the margins of his work with his brush, feeling Shamed. Wishing he could change his past.
Quietly, Pebbles continued.
“I do not find you a burden, now, Wish. Quite the opposite. I feel quite more at peace when you are here than the times I work alone. Perhaps I have simply become used to the sound of you working, to the scratch of your pen and brush. It feels strange, then, when my chamber is silent.”
Wish turned his head away, as if his Iterator might spy the moisture in his eyes, even through his mask.
“Thank you, Five Pebbles. To think I am Awarded such Honor.”
Five Pebbles looked at him, pointedly, and coldly stated, “You are old.”
Wish laughed.
“Yes, I am! I think I am only now coming to such understanding, how silly.”
He stared at his hand, flexing it. Watched the sinewy tendons beneath his thin skin, the way they subtly trembled. Old, indeed. When had it happened?
Pebbles paused, hesitant, before speaking again.
“I fear our cycles together are limited. You may spend as much time here with me as you desire. This is my wish.”
Wish turned his gaze up to his Iterator. There was no greater Honor.
“One Wish Granted, my Iterator, and there is no being Rid of me now.” He said, and returned to composing his Poetry with a softly aching heart.
~
Wish had felt it coming.
The air in the city had simply… changed, one day. The Administrators were not amongst the first to know, tied so closely to the Iterators as they were, but eventually they were told, weeks before the public was to be informed.
The entire Administrative Board was locked inside the Council chambers until they had been deemed calm enough to leave. It took three cycles. Three cycles of debate, dozens of written Appeals, feral matches of mad shouting and Curses, but it mattered not. Half his Peers were arrested and detained until the cycle of their Ascension, denied their families, their goodbyes and their Honor.
The decision was Made.
The date of the reveal was already set: first to the Iterators, and then to the public.
He had mere weeks to figure something out. To figure out a way to help, to change the future, to make amends, to apologize, anything.
Wish spent those cycles at the University, in his old office they had never taken from him, and in the Library. Searching for something, anything, before the end.
He had access to the Institute’s entire wealth of Knowledge. A Curse, as much as a Blessing. The things he knew, but could not tell—they pained him.
All the knowledge within the classified section of the Institute’s Library, within the mind of their Librarian, was unusable to him. Heavily protected under armed guard, its pearls would never leave the room.
He could have told Five Pebbles himself, perhaps. But with Mass Ascension looming, their interactions would now be heavily Monitored. Regardless, he did not think his Iterator would take him seriously by his Word alone. He would require proof to take action. To dismantle himself on Wish’s insistence alone? Laughable. Whatever Respect Wish had earned was not worth That.
There was no choice but to rely upon the public Library, filled with nothing but common, harmless Knowledge, and hope to find a Miracle.
For cycle, he pored through those pearls, desperately searching over sleepless nights. He felt his aging body failing him. He Cursed his mind, the fatigue, the inefficiency. When he could open his eyes no longer, he slept upon the floor of his office, amongst the mess of pearls strewn about the room, under the watchful eye of the first dead Iterator’s light-framed form, and suffered fearful dreams.
But, with just two cycles to spare, he found it.
An oversight. A ‘harmless’ pearl. An old advertisement, containing a precious suggestion, and the name of an Institution.
Everything Five Pebbles needed was here, within these walls, within the mind of their Librarian. Forbidden Knowledge and Histories. He merely needed to seek it, to ask the right questions, to find the right Answers.
He had never considered it before that moment, but his Greatest Work, the lifted bioengineering Taboo… Might well provide Salvation. He had never intended its use, this way, but it seemed the very Hand of Fate had intervened through him. Without the ability to Create, his Iterator would have no means to search these Halls.
Wish fled, heart racing, clutching the little pearl within his pocket like a lifeline.
The day came.
He approached his Iterator’s chamber, walked through his Entry Hall, and greeted the guards. They knew nothing. Tonight they would be told.
In his hands, a sash, the Finest yet, originally intended for the Anniversary of Five Pebbles' Birth, now carefully folded and held with Reverence in his withered, shaking hands. One of the guards leaned forward when Wish approached, and admired its intricacy, whistling his approval.
“You Spoil our Iterator still, Divine Administrator.” The other guard commented, apparent Judgement in her tone. “Does he thank you for your Doting?”
“Ah, but it is a Special Occasion, this cycle, you will See.”
The first guard leaned back, resuming his noble posture, and spoke.
“Of course, the Global Announcement. Another Divine Inauguration, we presumed. Wings Aflutter’s birth is Greatly Overdue, is it not? We will be Blessed to Receive them.”
“You will See. Might you grant me Access?”, Wish asked, mask turned to the spear the guard’s peer still held across the entrance, blocking the Way.
The friendlier guard shuffled sideways and elbowed his partner, who startled, interrupting whatever she was beginning to say.
“Yes, of course, Divine Administrator,” he said, pushing her spear out of Wish’s path. “May your Meeting be Fruitful, as Ever.”
His companion straightened, perhaps realizing her Disrespect, and motioned Wish onwards with a curt jab.
He entered, slowly. Closed his eyes and focused on his breath.
Five Pebbles would not receive this news with Grace, he felt.
Wish knew him well, but even so, did not expect the extent of the anger that awaited him.
“One Wish Granted, a Handful Denied. Hello, it is good to see you well. How lovely it is that you’ve deigned to visit me this cycle.” Five Pebbles said, without looking at him.
Ah. Wish had not visited for weeks, and so caught up was he in his mad search, that he had not even thought to inform his Iterator of a reason for his absence.
“My deepest Apologies, my Iterator, there were extenuating—“
“I feared your health had failed you. Tell me that you did not merely forget to inform me you would not be in attendance?”
Five Pebbles had worried for him. A knot of guilt twisted within.
“I… Well, yes… that is the case. My Deepest and Most Sincere Apologies will not Suffice, my—"
“Enough. I was told I would be receiving news today. Are you to deliver it?”
Five Pebbles was already angered, and he had yet to even deal the Blow.
“Yes. But first, a Gift. I’ve prepared another sash for the Occasion. Please, take a look, I believe it is the Finest yet. Nearly a two-year project, its Artist poured her very Soul into its Creation.”
Pebbles descended, to look upon his Gift.
“…What occasion, exactly? The Anniversary of my birth is still several months away.”
Wish held the folded fabric out to him, motioning Pebbles to take it. He did, but did not admire its patterns. He stared directly at Wish and awaited his answer.
“Ah. Well. I—we—“ Wish stuttered. How could he say it? He dreaded delivering this news, but could never allow another to do it. He took a deep breath.
“I have received this news myself only recently. My Heart is Torn, my Grief such that I might never Convey to you the Depths of it. No Apologies will ever Suffice, my Iterator.”
His voice was shaking. He struggled to speak. He heard his words and thought he sounded so old, so feeble.
Five Pebbles watched him silently, patiently, displaying no emotion.
“Mass Ascension is scheduled. Within seven cycles, I and all my People will Ascend. Each and every one of us. There is no stopping it, now. We tried.”
Five Pebbles did not respond.
Wish stood trembling, waiting. Tears dripped from his mask.
Finally, Five Pebbles spoke.
“You will Ascend.”
“Yes. I am so Sorry.”
“You are Sorry.”
Slowly, his puppet rose. The pearls that hovered behind it were twitching in an irregular movement, betraying his disarray. His anger.
His Iterator stared down at him, his puppet beginning to shake, and Wish felt very small.
“You are Sorry.”
Pebbles’ expression was not neutral, now. Anger seemed to roll off of his puppet, the aura of it palpable, tangible.
“You… create us. Give us the Task, allow us no others. Worship us, rely upon us. We toil, we iterate, we live. For you.”
“You’ve done us an Unimaginable Honor, my Iterator. Your Sacrifice, your Care, is never Forgotten. Anything you need now, anything we can accomplish before the end, we will Attend, we will Help you-“
“Help me? You have never helped us. Not once. You have helped yourself, to our work, our care. All for you. What have you done for us?”
“We—“
“No, you will not speak to me now. You will not utter a word to me ever again. You will not proselytize to me your merits. If you ever appear before me, proffering help, crying apology again—you, or any other Administrator, I know the rest are listening—I will do my damndest to circumvent my Taboos and cause you bodily harm. Are those Taboos tested? I can’t imagine any Iterator has ever tried.”
An empty threat, but a shocking one. Wish knew Five Pebbles would not harm him, even if he had the means to do so. He believed this, and yet he was speechless. He imagined his peers in their offices, clutching at their hearts, dismayed by their Iterator’s barbaric words.
He tried to speak, he did, but could only stutter, only croak—
“You will not speak to me. You have cursed me with being, given me purpose only to deny its meaning. You will Ascend and leave me with nothing. All I have ever done in service of you, your people. Everything I have, everything I am, wrapped up in you. And you will simply go.”
Wish could only listen.
Five Pebbles turned from him, muttering. “A purposed organism so alike the rest, abandoned as its use runs dry. How could I not have seen it, not have expected it. The others knew. They knew.”
A wall panel slid open. From it spilled the body of a conveyor, headless, its many tendrils extended and grasping at the air.
“The incinerator.” Said Five Pebbles, maintaining piercing eye contact with Wish as he held out the sash.
The thing took the folded bundle, containing the Gift Pebbles had not noticed was wrapped within, the pearl, the answer, the Way.
It took Wish’s Gift and disappeared back within the wall, the panel shutting with a dreadful click.
It was gone.
He could tell Five Pebbles now—the Board could not stop him even if they heard him, if only he could only explain quickly enough. He opened his mouth, but the moment he emitted a sound, his Iterator seized him and pushed him to the exit with inarguable force.
“Get. Out.”
Wish clutched at the walls of the exit, refusing to go. He tried to explain—
“OUT. Do not return.”
Five Pebbles tore the sash from his puppet’s shoulder, the last year’s Gift, and threw it ungracefully at Wish.
Wish held it to his chest, and tried, one final time, to utter an explanation. To Appeal, as he had always done.
He was forced from the room.
Only a week. One week left to fix this, to convince Five Pebbles, to help him.
Wish Resigned. He needed the Board’s eyes off of him. He wrote a Letter of Resignation, callous and cold. it dripped with false Hatred and Anger. They must not suspect him of Conspiracy.
He blessed himself, thankful for his Foresight, for he had thought to copy the pearl.
He spent those last cycles writing, attempting to convey his heart through Words. They were clumsy, rushed, written and rewritten hundreds of times over. The poem he composed was blurred from rewrites, but it would serve. He hoped Five Pebbles would hear him.
The cycle of First Ascension crept ever closer. His scheduled end.
He broke into an empty home with a prayer that none would notice. So many were vacant, now, as the population dwindled more and more. The city was barren, soaked in an air of dread, of hope and wonder, draped in colorful banners, celebratory and bright. Its citizens huddled in their residences, spending their final cycles together with their families. Wish had none to speak of, as he had devoted his life to his Work, and his Father was long since gone.
He placed the last piece of his Message, his final Hope, there in that dusty hovel. He prayed Five Pebbles would find it, someday.
The next afternoon, the one before his Ascension was due, he took the Poem—his apology, his clue—and walked into Five Pebbles’ entry hall. It would appear harmless if investigated, he hoped. He approached the guards, who winced at the sight of him, their masks twitching.
“Sincerest Apologies, Divine Administrator, but you have been Barred Entry. Please, go.” The gentle one said.
The other seemed to glare through her mask, gaze hot, holding the spear firmly in his Way.
“I will go, of course. Would you deliver this final Gift, on my behalf?”
“No Gifts. No one is to see Five Pebbles.”
“Please, it is but an Apology. My final Wish, before the End.”
“No Gifts.” the woman repeated.
“I’m sorry, Wish.” the other guard said, not bothering with formality, now, so close to the End.
Wish held up his hands and backed away.
He turned, and with a sleight of hand, slipped the pearl to the ground, as close to his Iterator’s entrance as he could manage without being seen. It rolled to a stop in some soon-forgotten corner. Five Pebbles was unlikely to ever notice it. So foolish. Was there no better solution, no greater Hope than this? With luck, by the time he discovers it, if he ever does, he will have calmed enough to read it. To see.
Wish would have to place his trust in that uncaring Hand of Fate. It had ushered him this far, somehow.
He returned to his office, to spend his final cycle in Disgrace. The dead Iterator watched him from her painting and offered him no comfort.
With little better to do, he stole supplies from the Department of the Arts and spent his last hours alone painting a sunrise over her can, in all his favorite colors. She gleamed in the light, sun-dappled, beautiful.
Divine.
Enforcers collected him, that night, their gentle hands ushering him to his End.
Amongst all the others, despite the publicity, he shed his mask. Placed it aside, ignored the watchers and the gasps of shock. Frigid night air pricked at his cheeks, his face. A strange sensation. All around hic rang cries of fear and elation. Fireworks crackled in the sky above them all, celebrating their Deserved and Final End, their Privilege Most Immaculate.
As he shivered in the cool night air, a stranger reached out from beside him and took his hand. He held it. Together and alone, Wish stepped into the void pool, watching as his feet disturbed the strange, beautiful, shimmering surface of the end. A pleasant numbness like a subtle static danced across his skin. It seemed to seep into his very mind, calming him, leaving him awash. He wrapped Five Pebbles’ sash around his shoulders with his free hand, took a deep breath, and immersed himself in its Divine Embrace.
Thoughts began to fade and blur, his fears, determination, anger, and desires melting all away. With his final Will, he prayed to the only Deity to ever have truly Served him, the only one he believed in still.
The Hand of Fate.
He prayed…
Five Pebbles…
Would find the Way.