Regardless, Giles remembered Barnen’s warning and walked fast, ignoring the pain of his bruised knee. He stayed only long enough to grab his case. The moment he returned, he pulled out his computer and set it on her desk.
“Log in and then pass it to me.” Myrna moved around to sit in the chair beside him.
He did as she asked. Then he watched as she searched for the document. Only one copy popped up. Running her finger across the display, she compared it to the hardcopy. “It has the same version number and timestamp.”
Giles nodded, though his heart sank. The bank used special software to secure and control all its documents. He’d hoped the information would be different.
She opened the electronic copy and continued to compare, until she got to page four. “But this isn’t the same.” Pointing at his machine, she looked him in the eye. “You sent me this one?”
Giles let out his breath. “Yeah, you can see for yourself. It has all the electronic signatures.” He pointed at a sentence. “See? I missed a word here, but didn’t fix it because it would change the version number. I’d have to get all the approvals again.”
Myrna squeezed her lips. She looked annoyed, but also thoughtful. “Not many could have pulled off a hack like this. You can go, but don’t touch that document. I don’t want anything disturbed.”
“Sure—thanks.” Giles blinked, packed up his machine, and walked back to his desk. The whole thing felt surreal. He couldn’t believe it, but wasn’t going to question it.
It had to be coincidence. No one could make a machine that created luck. And certainly, no one would just hand one away. Giles fingered the device. He almost put it back in his coat, but decided, nonsense or not, he’d keep the thing with him.
When noon arrived, he was still mulling the morning’s events. Since he’d given away his lunch, he headed down to the cafeteria.
Its walls were a garish orange. Harsh light from overhead fluorescents reflected back from the glass and steel counters.
Giles joined the hot food line and ordered the roast beef. After adding a bottle of juice, he carried the tray to the cash register and set it down. But before he pulled out his wallet, he decided to push the button on the device. This might be a good test. From a luck perspective, it was neutral territory.
This time, he felt pressure in his ears, as if a bubble of air was pressing in on him.
To either side of him, people paid for their meals and carried off their trays. His cashier, an older woman with purple hair and too much makeup, stood frozen, with her fingers almost touching the keys. Her mouth hung open. But no one else seemed to notice.
Abruptly, she jolted into motion and punched his order in. The machine played a few notes. As she read the display, her eyebrows rose. “Congratulations—you won this month’s random draw. Your lunch is free.”
“Hey, thanks.” Giles shoved his wallet back into his pocket.
As he picked up his tray, he heard a noise and glanced back. The lineup behind him had gotten longer. A woman stepped out of it just as a man came around her. They collided. Trays and dishes crashed to the floor. Food spattered them and several onlookers.
Giles grimaced in sympathy, but told himself it had nothing to do with him. The woman should have looked before she moved.
He headed into the sea of tables and chairs. It was usually a struggle to find an empty spot. Today, a table came open just as he approached.
He sat alone and ate. But as he took his last bite, he dribbled gravy down his tie. He groaned and wiped at it, but it just smeared.
After dropping off his tray, he headed to the washroom to wipe his tie. He was waiting for the elevator when Mike Summer and Mike’s buddy, Sam Parr from Technical Support, stepped out of an elevator. Both carried cardboard boxes and were escorted by security guards.
In guilty reflex, Giles placed his hand over his pocket. The thing really did work. And surely, this was karma for Mike and Sam. Their meddling had delayed a major project. But as he watched Mike’s hunched shoulders and halting steps, Giles decided he’d enjoyed enough good luck. He’d hand the device back to Barnen.
That evening, when Giles got back downstairs, Dr. Barnen sat waiting on the same bench.
Though Giles was reluctant, he held out the device. “It works.”
Barnen chortled. “I know.” Ignoring Gile’s outstretched hand, he pulled a notebook from the pocket of his overcoat. “You can keep it, on one condition.”
“I don’t think I should.” But Giles hugged the device to his chest.
Barnen held out the notebook. “Please—I need information.”
“But you created this thing. Why do you need me?”
Leaning forward, Barnen rested his elbows on his knees. He bowed his head and spread his fingers over it. For long moments, he just sat there. When he straightened, he stared up at Giles. “It’s my life’s work, you understand. And I have a brain tumor. To fast-track my research, I need independent confirmation. I want to see my results published.”
“My condolences.” Giles dropped to the bench beside him. He cradled the device in his hands.
With a faint smile, Barnen waved the sympathy away. “The tumor has been there for years, inoperable, but it wasn’t growing. It just made me a little unsteady. But then, out of the blue, it metastasized. I don’t have much time left.”
Under the circumstances, it seemed uncaring to refuse to help. But Giles recalled the collision in the cafeteria. Had the thing contributed to that? Time had slowed, after all. “I don’t know.”
Whatever the thing was doing, it was powerful. He looked at the device, then back at Barnen. “Am I going to be sucked into an alternate universe or something?”
“You watch too many movies,” Barnen said. “What do you know of particle physics?”
Giles slipped the notebook under the device and set both on his lap. “Nothing.”
“Around us, everything is in motion, and it’s all related.” Straightening, Barnen held up a finger. “A delivery truck stops at a crosswalk. In front of it, a boy steps out. In the next lane, the driver of a car glances down.” He clapped his hands. “If they all come together, the boy may die. But what if he walked more slowly, or the car stopped at a red light? The outcome might be different. Time is just another dimension. And I don’t need to change it—just our perception of it. Do you understand?”
“No.”
“When we focus on our desires, we put out mental energy. It forms part of our connection to the world. The device detects that energy. It also interprets the currents of possible events, not in sequence, but all at once. Within its limits, it chooses the most favorable path. Then it affects perception, to meet your desire.”
Giles scratched the back of his neck. “And this changes reality?”
Barnen shrugged. “Someone acts on an impulse, or he doesn’t. Something happens a few seconds earlier, or later. Small changes can have a big impact.”
“And I’m supposed to do what—just push the button whenever I need luck?”
“That’s right. Just remember that the device needs time to reset, an hour at least.” Barnen tensed up, didn’t meet Giles’s gaze. “And you must record everything that happens, even events that might not seem related.”
Giles paused to consider the offer. It would be nice to have good luck. And it didn’t sound bad, what the thing was doing. He wondered about side effects, even opened his mouth to ask, but temptation beat out caution. He offered Barnen his hand. “I’ll do it.”
“Meet me here every Thursday morning. I’ll take your notebook and give you a new one. And I may have questions.”
Giles took the subway home. He got off at his stop and climbed the stairs. On the open platform where the buses sat, he found one already waiting. It looked full, as if it had been there a little while. He hoped the driver would wait. As he hurried toward the bus, he pushed the button.
He felt pressure in his ears, stronger this time. The air became like syrup. It was hard to p
ush forward, hard even to take a step.
Before he could get close to the bus, the doors closed and it pulled away.
The pressure disappeared.
Giles groaned. Something had definitely happened, but it didn’t look like good luck. Maybe there was more to this than Barnen claimed.
A few moments later, another bus pulled in. Giles climbed on. Despite it being almost empty, the driver pulled right out.
As the bus turned out onto the street, Giles glanced back to the platform. An old woman heaved shopping bags up the steps. She stopped and her eyes followed the bus. Her shoulders sagged.
Giles fingered the device. It wasn’t his fault. She’d been too slow. Things like that happened all the time. He shook the image from his mind.
About three-quarters of the way home, his bus overtook the other one. As he passed, he looked into it and winced his sympathy for the people packed like sardines. He also noticed their jealous glances.
The device did work—exactly as Barnen said it would. If there were side effects, surely he’d have said.
Giles passed the rest of the ride in contemplation. Now, he could give Amy everything he wanted for her.
When he climbed off the bus, he stepped on a sharp stone. He cursed and limped, but it was a reminder. He’d see good fortune only when he pushed the button. Otherwise, he’d just be his normal, unlucky self.
At his apartment door, Giles pushed his key into the lock. As he opened the door, he inhaled. It smelled like a pot pie, his favorite comfort food. Somehow, even though he hadn’t said a word, she’d known he might need this.
He set down his briefcase, closed the door, and stepped into their narrow kitchen. Their apartment was cramped and dingy, but the rent was reasonable, helping them to save for a place of their own.
“Giles?” At the other end, Amy rounded the corner. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had a smudge of charcoal on her freckled nose. Petite and slim, she’d changed from her work clothes into old jeans and a t-shirt.
Giles swept her up and spun her around. Then he planted a long kiss on her lips.
Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You must have had a good day.”
Giles set her down and pulled the device from his pocket. “Thanks to this, I’ll never have a bad one again.” He put the thing on the counter.
“What is that?” She looked it over and poked at it, but gingerly.
“Let me just change my clothes. I’ll tell you over dinner.”
By the time he sat down, Amy had the table set.
Over the tender morsels of chicken in sauce, he told her all that had happened that day.
As she listened, her eyes grew round, but she didn’t interrupt.
He glanced past her shoulder, to where her easel sat. It held a partially completed image. Amy was trying to get her own business going, designing ad campaigns. She had a few clients, but the apartment was an awkward place for her to work.
He looked around and wrinkled his nose. “This weekend, why don’t we go check out that new condo building?” He patted the device, where it lay on the table. “I’ll bet we can find something nice at a price we can afford.”
Amy waved her fork at it. “I don’t think you should use that thing. Give it back.”
“Why?” He gave her a hurt look. “I told you what it did for me today.”
“I know, but don’t you think it odd that he wanted to give it to a stranger? Why wouldn’t he want his friends or family to have good luck? And anyway, if he sells these things and everyone buys one, won’t they just cancel each other out? And what happens to the people who don’t have one?”
Giles gave her a tight smile. “You worry too much. It’ll be fine.” Recalling the way Barnen had avoided his gaze, Giles wondered if she was right, but he’d accepted the thing, after all. Maybe, he’d hand it back next week. In the meantime, he’d be careful and only push the button when he really needed luck.
On Saturday morning, they got ready for their appointment with the realtor. On their way out the door, Giles grabbed the device from the kitchen counter.
Amy shook her head. “Don’t take that thing. I don’t trust it.”
“All right.” He pretended to put it back on the counter, but when she turned away, he slipped it into his pocket.
A little while later, they were sitting opposite the agent’s desk in the model suite. A tiny woman, she wore bright red earrings that matched her huge smile.
As he looked around, taking in the granite countertops, the big balcony and the polished wooden floors, Giles’s heart sank. The device provided luck, not miracles. They wouldn’t be able to afford anything here. He pushed the button, but didn’t expect results.
The agent tapped on her keyboard and stared at the screen. “I’m sorry, but there is nothing that…oh, hold on.” She flashed a grin. “I don’t usually check the building next door. It’s been sold out for months. Good thing I looked. There’s nothing for you here, but over there,” she pointed toward a window, “a client just backed out. The unit is ready. It’s small and it’s been customized, but it’s now in your price range. The builder just wants it gone. Care to take a look?”
Giles stood at the window and admired the southern view. The unit was bigger than their apartment and much nicer. The balcony had been halved, but the glassed-in space made a perfect studio space for Amy. And most of the other changes, the dark oak cabinets and the marble bath, were upgrades. He wasn’t about to complain.
Amy wandered around the room. Her eyes were as wide as her smile. She nodded.
Giles turned to the agent. “We’ll take it.”
They headed back to her office and finalized the deal. Giles tucked the signed papers inside his coat. As they headed down the elevator and out onto the street, he offered his arm to Amy. At the corner, she pushed the crosswalk button. He looked up, watching, waiting for the traffic light to change.
As the green turned to yellow, a delivery van zoomed past. Giles jerked back. “Geez.”
Their light changed and they stepped out together. As they neared the other side, Giles twisted around to look back at the condo building. “I think we’ll really like living there.”
Tires screeched. Amy screamed. From the corner of his eye, Giles caught sight of a car bearing down on her.
Without hesitation, he dove, knocking her out of the car’s path. The front corner caught him in the hip, crushing the device against him.
He was thrown back onto the hood, was tossed like a doll, and landed in a heap. Pain consumed him.
When he heard Amy sobbing, he reached for her, but everything went black.
He woke up to find himself surrounded by monitors and banks of medical equipment, strapped to a narrow cot and swaying with a vehicle’s motion. A round-faced young woman, a paramedic by her uniform, sat near his head. She nodded to him, glanced up at her monitors, and glanced to the other side of the ambulance.
Giles turned his head.
Amy was strapped to another stretcher and looking back at him. Long scrapes marred one cheek. With tears in her eyes, she asked, “How badly are you hurt?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. His body felt on fire.
“As near as I can tell,” the attendant said, “you were both lucky, just cuts and bruises. But you need to be checked by a doctor.” She smiled at Giles. “Apparently, you’re a hero. According to an eyewitness, you saved her life.” Picking up a clear bag from the floor, she displayed a tangled mass of wires and shattered plastic. “This thing was in your pocket. It might have helped to cushion the blow. Whatever it was, it’s now beyond redemption.”
“Just as well.” Again, Giles turned to look at Amy. As he stretched his hand out to take hold of hers, he said, “I’m so sorry. You tried to warn me and I didn’t listen. Now I know why Barnen wanted to test that thing on a stranger.” He’d seen the clues. His error was in choosing to discount them. “We’re probably lucky that the car hit the device and pushed the bu
tton.”
Amy blinked at him. She started to laugh, but then sucked in her breath and touched her ribs. “You couldn’t have known this would happen. Let’s just hope the bad and the good canceled each other out.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Do you know how wonderful you are? Mike Summer would never risk himself the way you did. I’m lucky every day—no device required.”
With her words, Giles’s heart swelled. He had Amy. Why had he ever thought Mike was the lucky one?
The paramedic arched an eyebrow, but didn’t ask.
Though sore and limping, Thursday found Giles back in the office. After work, he headed for the concourse. He hobbled to the bench where he sat and waited.
When Barnen appeared, Giles held out the journal and the remnants of the device. “I’m sorry. I had a little accident.”
For long moments, Barnen just stared at him. Then he took the bag and held it up to the light. “This one is beyond repair, but I have the plans. I can make you another.”
“No thanks.” Giles held up his hands. “I’m already the luckiest man in the world. And I’d like to keep it that way. That thing might wrangle Lady Luck, but it pisses Karma off. I’m done with stepping on her toes.”
J.M. Odell
Ms. Odell has the good fortune to live in rural Canada, where the scenery is spectacular and the weather often encourages indoor activity. After years of working in Information Technology, she discovered the joys of writing. Now, she’s hooked.
Irregular updates to her blog can be found at jmodell.blogspot.ca.
10. Double Negative
Eric J. Best
If it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have no luck at all.
—William Bell
I was the youngest of thirteen in the Lyar family. I’m not sure my mom even knew I was born, but I was quickly adopted by my brothers and sisters. They fed, clothed, and taught me things that a child my age shouldn’t know. I was in heaven until I realized they were all one pawn short of a full chess set. They had to be to love me.
Lucky or Unlucky? 13 Stories of Fate Page 19