The Pen is Mightier

by J. A. Cipriano

I broke the kiss. “I don’t want to hurt you, and we ran out of lube an hour ago.”

  “I know… it’s just…” she pouted, burying her forehead against my chest. “It was so good. You don’t even understand.”

  “I do.” My hand instinctively went to my pocket where I’d written the note. “I get it.” I cupped her chin in my hand, turning her eyes so I could meet them. “I gave you my address already. Just come by tonight, okay?”

  “Don’t you have to work?” she asked, face scrunching up as confusion and hope fought for dominance. “You said you had to work last time you tried to leave…”

  “I think I’m going to quit.” I smirked. “In fact, I know I’m going to quit.”

  “Okay.” She swallowed hard, giving me a long look. “I’m going to be there.” She nodded once and took a step back, leaning against her desk for support. “Um… can you help me get dressed?” She blushed. “I don’t think I can stand long enough to do it.”

  “Sure,” I said with a laugh.

  A few minutes later, I left her fixing her makeup and stepped out of the office. A quick glance at the clock in the hallway let me know I’d been in there for over four hours. That realization hit me hard, and as I stared at the stupid clock, I realized I’d missed almost all my classes.

  Hell, even my last class, a primer in obscure programming languages, was halfway over by now. Panic surged through me. I needed to learn those things, to get my degree so I could make something of myself… only…

  Only, I didn’t need to do any of those things. I glanced down at my pocket before pulling out the pen. Everything was different.

  I smiled as I fingered it. I didn’t need school, didn’t need a degree. I could write myself both those things. At least I think I could. I mean, did I even need to work? I wasn’t sure, but I aimed to find out.

  Moving quickly through the counselors’ building, I tried to ignore the mountain of people in the waiting room, but as I saw them, I felt bad. After the first knock on the door, I’d used the pen to make sure we hadn’t been disturbed. Evidently, that’d created a backlog, and now staring at them all waiting, I felt bad. Really bad.

  I’d thrown off all their schedules just so I could fuck Miss Montgomery. Something about it made me feel ten kinds of awful, like one of those douchebag business guys who parked his Lamborghini across three spots. As a tremor of guilt racked me, I resolved to be better, more careful.

  I had to use my pen for good, and the like. That was first thing. I was secondary, right? I mean, I had always hated how the man kept people down. Maybe I could fix it. Maybe I could fix everything.

  Nodding to myself, I sat down on the bench outside and pulled out the moleskin. Flipping to a blank page, I realized I didn’t know exactly what to write. Should I just write down world peace? What would that do? So far, the pen seemed to make things happen in its own unique way. For all I knew, that’d mean Mecha-Hitler would take over the world and enslave everyone to wipe out conflict.

  Given my new powers, I, for one, would not welcome that idea.

  No. It was best to start with something simple, something under the radar. I got to my feet and stepped back into the scholarship office.

  “Hey,” I said, waving my hands to get the rooms attention, and as a scant few students looked up at me, I smiled. “Does anyone have student loans?”

  A few people laughed nervously. Others nodded. Most looked at me like I was flipping insane, which to be fair, was what I’d have done in their situation.

  I wanted to try helping someone, but for all I knew, it wouldn’t work. Still, I’d come this far. I might as well try.

  “Does anyone actually have a loan bill, tuition bill, something like that?” I added, hedging. “Like the physical copy?”

  “I do,” said a guy in the corner. His arms were covered in tattoos, and he wore a black and red checkered flannel. He had one of those weird lumberjack beards and slick hair, making me think he was definitely going to regret his school photos in a few years. Or not. Cool was cool, I guess.

  “Awesome,” I said, moving toward him. “Could I maybe see it for a second?”

  “Why?” he asked, staring at me with curiosity and suspicion. “You going to try to steal my identity or something?” He gave a nervous laugh. “Trust me, not much there to steal.”

  “I’m writing an article for the student paper on oppressive student loans. You know, how the man is keeping us down.” I sighed loudly. “Doing the math, most of us won’t ever do more than pay off our interest on our loans. We’ll pay a bunch of money for our degrees, and the banks will make more than the university or us off of it for creating money with their backroom printing press.”

  “If you say so.” The guy smirked at me. “You’re clearly crazy, but I like your moxie.” Then as I stood there wondering why someone actually used the word moxie, he pulled a piece of paper from the folder on his lap and handed it to me. “Check out that.”

  My eyes nearly bugged out of my head as I stared at the loan document. The guy owed almost ninety-thousand dollars. Part of it was because his master’s degree cost a butt load, but still, it seemed crazy. While the payments were deferred for now because he had a year left in the program, I could see why he was here. He needed more money. There was a huge gap in between what he’d already been loaned, and what he needed for his master’s in Art Theory.

  “If this is where you tell me my degree is worthless, don’t.” His words drew my attention back to him. “I know that. I only started here because I had a scholarship, and then after a year or so, it dried up, but by then I was already on board so I kept paddling along, figuring I may as well finish. Then I couldn’t get a job because everyone wanted masters.” He rubbed his face.

  “I hear you,” I said, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my pen. Then I wrote a quick note across the top.

  Paid in full.

  “Say, can you pull up your balance on the app?” I gestured at him with the paper. “You know, on your phone?”

  “I guess. Need to correlate something?” He asked as he navigated through his phone.

  “Yeah, actually. Is that okay?” I said, hoping it’d work.

  “Not a problem. I’m already fucked.” As he brought up the application, he squawked in surprise. “What the actual fuck?”

  “Is something wrong?” I asked, suddenly worried. Had I messed things up somehow? Had nothing happened? No. Something had to have happened, or he wouldn’t look so surprised.

  “It says my account has been paid in full.” He swallowed and looked at me in shock. “How is that possible?” He began to scroll through the app. “My loan has been wiped out.”

  “That’s great,” I said, smiling as I turned away from the shocked hipster. “If anyone else wants me to pay off their loans, or fix their scholarships, grants, whatever, I’ll be outside on the bench. Please form an orderly line.”

  13

  An hour later, I’d given out at least a million dollars in student loan forgiveness. Hell, I’d even paid off a few credit cards, an overdue rent notice, and someone’s tab at the student dining hall. The last one had made me laugh a little, if only because the food was horrible.

  Still, the line of people had finally slowed to a crawl. At first, I’d worried people might rush me or something because, you know, free money, but after the initial wave had ended, not many more had shown up. That was good because not only was my hand was starting to cramp, but that strange feeling of being watched was back.

  Getting to my feet, I stretched, feeling the sun hit my face and trying to ignore the feeling. Despite my paranoia, I felt good, like I was taking on the man in some small way. Sure, some of the people I’d helped had been entitled assholes, but most? Most were just hardworking people like me who had gotten shit on by the man. Sure, the man was unlikely to notice what I’d done for these people, but at the same time, they had noticed, a lot.

  That said, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched, like someone w
as following my every moment. Unfortunately, I hadn’t seen anyone, and I wasn’t quite sure how to make the pen tell me if someone was, in fact, watching me. Writing down questions with it didn’t seem to do anything at all.

  “You sure you don’t need anything?” the guy next to me asked, interrupting my thoughts. He was a tallish fellow in a skin-tight purple muscle tee. He had close-cropped hair and wore camo pants, making me think he might actually be in an ROTC program or something.

  Either way, I’d just paid off his car for him, and while I didn’t even know if he really needed it, who was I to judge. It wasn’t like it cost me anything to do it.

  “No,” I said, taking a step forward and trying to ignore the weird feeling I had.

  “Are you sure?” he asked as the wind ruffled my hair, bringing with it the scent of rain. “Storm’s coming.”

  He was right, of course. Worse, my car was still back at the superstore. Well, that was no problem. I’d just bippity boppity boo my ass over there. Whipping out my pen, I quickly scribbled a line in my moleskin.

  Take me to my car.

  Only, as I finished writing the words, the words vanished from my sight in the same way they had when I’d scribbled them out with Miss Montgomery earlier. As I stared at them uncomprehending, it began to rain, spilling from the clouds overhead in big, fat droplets.

  Damn. I didn’t have time to figure out why it didn’t work. At least not if I wanted to get my car anytime soon. Sure, I could go back inside and try different variations of the wording, but there was a simpler way to get to my car.

  “Actually,” I said, stopping the guy as he looked over at me. “Could you maybe give me a ride?”

  “Sure,” he said, a smile spreading across his lips as he looked me over. “You bought it, so it seems like the least I could do.” He gestured for me to follow him. “Come on.”

  “It’s really nothing,” I said as I hurried after him, wishing I had a sweatshirt or something. All my stuff was still in my car. In fact, aside from my pen and pad, all I had was the shirt on my back.

  “Don’t say that, man. You really helped me out.” He huffed out a breath. “Everyone says not to buy a new car out of high school, so what’d I do? Buy a car.” He tapped his knuckles against his temple. “I never was much of a smart guy.” He smirked. “Guess it’s good that I’m big and dumb. The army would never have paid for me otherwise.”

  “You were in the army?” I asked, not really surprised.

  “Yep. Did two tours before a piece of shrapnel caught me in the leg.” He touched his thigh as he moved. It was a little weird because he didn’t seem injured. “Our vehicle got hit by an IED.” He gave me a hard look, like the tale bothered him, but not too much to share.

  As I saw memories flash through his eyes, he continued. “You know those stories where they say someone got lucky?” He touched his chest with his thumb. “I was the lucky one.” He swallowed hard. “The guy next to me got blown clean in half along with the vehicle. The blast threw me clear of the wreckage as it rolled, and as I hit the sand and lay there, a chunk of metal the size of my arm in my thigh, a rocket hit it.” He got quiet for a moment. “The bastards who shot us must have thought I was dead because they never came down to check. If they had, I’d have a bullet in my skull.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, watching him move. Each step purposeful, sure in a way I’d never had. Like he’d seen the worst the world had to offer and then overcame it.

  “It’s not your fault.” His lips curled into a smile. “Unless it is?”

  “No. I don’t even know how to shoot a gun.” I shrugged.

  “You should learn. A man’s got to defend himself.” He nodded once. “Look me up, I’ll teach you, sometime.”

  “I’ll do that,” I said, unsure if I would. For all I knew, I could write myself bad ass samurai skills. Hell, I should try that anyway. I’d always wanted to use a katana.

  “Good.” He pulled the key from his pocket and clicked a button, causing the Silver Tundra that had backed into the space ahead of us to beep. “Where are we heading?”

  “The Super Mart on Wilson,” I said with a shrug. “That’s where I work.”

  “You work at a Super Mart?” he asked, rounding the pickup and opening the driver’s door. “How did you afford to pay off everyone’s stuff?”

  “Would you believe a midget left me some money?” I asked, smirking at him as I got into the truck. I hadn’t really come up with a cover story for my wealth, figuring people would forget what I looked like the second they had what they wanted.

  “Not really, but it’s your thing.” He started the car and pulled forward as rain splattered against the windshield. He turned on the wipers before looking over at me. “You paid off my baby, so I can hardly get upset if you don’t wanna tell me the when and why of it.” He gave me a serious look. “I probably don’t want to know, anyway.”

  “It’s not that big of a deal,” I said, leaning my head against the passenger window. “I just wanted to do some good for once. You know, now that I could.”

  “That’s a nice sentiment,” he said, tapping out a drumbeat on his steering wheel. “Need more people who want to do the right thing.” He sighed. “Sometimes I just wish I knew what that was.”

  I wasn’t sure how to take that. I didn’t really want to have an argument with him or anything, but as I stared at him, I wondered if perhaps there might be more I could do. So far, I’d paid off some loans and stuff, but that seemed like small potatoes.

  Maybe I could do more?

  I wasn’t quite sure, but as we rode on in silence, I found myself wondering just what the pen could do. That was when I had a brilliant idea.

  Taking out my pad, I wrote a quick line.

  Know everything about the pen.

  Only, like when I’d tried to teleport to my car, the line vanished itself. Fine. I could try something else.

  Have an instruction manual for the pen.

  Again, the line evaporated. I tried about twenty more variations, all with the same result. Nothing. It made me think that as long as the line stayed, the thing would happen, though not necessarily in the way I thought. Miss Montgomery had proven that this thing definitely had unintended consequences when used, which made me want to not write a sweeping statement like, I dunno, No more terrorists.

  “Hey,” I said, looking over at my new friend as we pulled up to the superstore. “What’s your name by the way?”

  “Adam,” he said with a shrug as the words Be able to fly faded before my eyes. “I think I introduced myself earlier.”

  “I’m bad with names,” I admitted, which was actually true. “I just wanted to say thanks for the ride.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, smiling at me as I unbuckled and opened the door. “Wish I had an umbrella for you or something.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, taking a deep breath as I pointed to my car. It was still sitting in the same spot as last night. “Mine is in my car.”

  “Good.” He waved at me as I shut the door.

  As I stood there, he sped off into the distance, leaving me to stand there as the rain continued to fall, I suddenly felt sort of alone. At the end of the day, while he had been nice, he hadn’t been my friend, not really anyway.

  No, what I needed was someone to share this with, and as silly as it sounded, the only person I could even think of was my roommate, Marty. Well, that was fine. I’d just go get him.

  As I got behind the wheel of my Kia, that same sense of being watched came over me again, and once more, I looked around and found nothing. Still, I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Something was definitely off.

  Taking out my pad, I scribbled a quick note.

  Make whoever is watching me reveal themselves.

  Only the words vanished nearly the moment I finished writing them. I stared at the blank page for a second, worry growing in my gut. That was odd. Shouldn’t that have worked? Then again, maybe I was just b
eing paranoid. Maybe no one revealed themselves to me because no one was watching me?

  I decided to try again anyway. Maybe I just had to be a bit smarter.

  Make me aware of how best to dodge the people after me

  Again. Nothing.

  Make me aware of how to protect myself from them.

  “Fuck,” I growled when that line faded away too. Maybe it wasn’t working because people weren’t after me, but I didn’t buy that. I may have just been paranoid, but it felt like people were after me. No, it had to be something with the way I had worded it. That had to be what it was. After all, maybe I was being too specific, and the pen didn’t know how to help me?

  Make me hidden from people who would do me harm.

  This time the words stuck, and as I stared at them, the weird feeling of being watched vanished, leaving me to wonder if it was cause and effect, or if it was just me feeling better because I’d written the note. Either way, I wasn’t waiting around to find out.

  I might be hidden now, but for all I knew, that could change. I had no idea how long the pen’s powers worked, and if someone was looking for me, and had known I was here, this was the first place they’d check.

  Unfortunately, there was one problem with that. My car still wouldn’t start. As I tried turning the key, I got no response whatsoever, but then again, I had a fix for that.

  One quick note and my car started, roaring to life in the back lot of the superstore. Then, as I sat there, another idea filled my mind. I had a chance to do some real good.

  14

  As I pulled into the parking lot of the chemotherapy day clinic, I was beginning to have second thoughts. At first, this had seemed like a good idea, like I could roll into the hospital and write away maladies, but now that I was sitting here, I began to feel like an idiot.

  Maybe I should just go?

  No. I needed to do this. Firstly, it was a good thing to do, assuming it worked, and secondly, I wanted to know if it would work, and how better than here?

  Summoning my courage, I got out of my car and stood in the parking lot. The rain had stopped, and as I stared at the windswept parking lot, I found myself looking at only a half dozen cars.