Genie and Engineer 1: The Engineer Wizard

by Glenn Michaels

  Satisfied that they could eventually make this work, Paul felt that warm feeling in his heart again. In time, they could build an AI, one small enough to put in a desktop computer. He couldn’t ask for much more than that.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Naperville, Illinois

  East Bauer Road

  Two-bedroom rental house

  May

  Thursday, 5:16 p.m. CST

  “All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence; then success is sure.” ― Mark Twain.

  He tenaciously kept working on the AI project, working long hours on the development of the software. A couple of times, he was so tired at night that it was all he could do to climb into bed before falling fast asleep.

  At least there was something to distract him as he waited for Capie to call.

  That finally came on Thursday evening, just after 5 p.m.

  “Do you have time to come out to the house?” she timidly asked when he answered the phone.

  “I can be there in fifteen minutes! No, make it ten!” Paul cackled wildly, then hung up the phone before she could say anything more.

  Paul drove faster than was safe, using magic to avoid three accidents, turn half a dozen red lights green in front of him, and sail through one speed trap. The Camry took him safely to her driveway. From that point on, he was on his own.

  He rang the doorbell, waiting impatiently for her to open the door. What would her decision be? Would she tell him to get lost, or would she say “yes?” The tug of war in his heart threatened to consume him.

  “Come in!” Paul heard Capie shout. “The door is not locked!”

  She was sitting in the middle of her living room in her electric wheelchair, wearing another one of her gorgeous outfits, this one with a pale green blouse and a pair of darker green slacks.

  Her expression was one of nervousness, her hands fidgeting.

  “Please, come in and have a seat,” she invited with a quaver in her voice. “Would you like a cup of tea before we get started?”

  “No, thanks. I am too nervous waiting to hear your answer,” he bluntly admitted.

  Capie nodded in understanding as Paul sat down on the edge of her couch.

  “They say that an adventure always happens to someone else,” she said, a touch of bitterness in her voice. “I’ve never understood that until now. Not really. I’m sorry that it took me a long time to make this decision.”

  She paused. “On the one hand, I could stay here, live my life in safety, but remain an invalid, trapped in this wheelchair. On the other hand, I could have magical powers, be cured of my spinal injury, and live a full and exciting life, but I might be murdered by evil magical creatures and wizards.”

  With a grin, she shook her head and said, “‘How funny it is! I now believe in dragons, fairies, good men, and other mythical creatures!’”

  Paul chuckled louder than the joke warranted. Okay, so he was nervous, and his heart was pounding in his chest. What would she say?

  She looked at him, and he could see the hesitation in her eyes.

  “I am tempted, really tempted,” she openly confessed, “but I need a little something more from you before I can answer.”

  Paul nodded, prepared for this situation and suddenly confident of how she would answer his next question. The thrill of it ran up and down his spine like an electric charge. “And I think I know what that something is.”

  Pulling a small box from his pants pocket, Paul knelt on one knee and took her left hand in his, reminding himself to go slow (he had vowed not to screw this up) and to say the words distinctly, even though his throat suddenly felt dry and his tongue swollen. This was for all the marbles!

  “Copernicus Kingsley, love of my life, will you marry me?” And he gave her the small box.

  Breathlessly, she took her hand from his and fumbled nervously with the box. When the lid snapped open, she gasped in surprise. Inside was a gorgeous silver ring with a large diamond.

  She stretched forth both arms and leapt into his. He caught her and held her tight.

  “Oh, yes!” she squealed in delight. “Yes, yes, YES!”

  • • • •

  For a half hour, she babbled on like a whole chorus line of teenage girls on steroids, talking about weddings and dates and a host of other such matters. Paul merely smiled and said “Yes, dear” at all the appropriate points in the dialogue.

  Then she calmed down a little and smiled shyly. “I’m sorry I carried on that way. I am just so HAPPY! I never knew it could be like this! Oh, kiss me, stupid!”

  Paul did. In fact, he kissed her several times. Long and hard.

  “Okay, okay!” she gasped. “Let a girl breathe! Oh my goodness, you are a good kisser!”

  “I could say the same about you,” Paul countered with a grin. His heart was skipping along on jet-powered thrusters.

  “We need to make plans,” she said.

  “Agreed. Where do we start?”

  “Wedding plans, of course. Do you want a big wedding or something informal?” she asked.

  Paul shrugged. “I have no family that would attend. And no close friends, not really. So your family and friends would be it. Big question; what about your father?”

  “Well, of course, silly. He’ll be there.”

  “Ah, but with a smile or a frown? I get the impression that he doesn’t like me very much,” Paul subtly reminded her.

  She shook her head. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just trying to protect his little girl.”

  “And wait until he hears how much danger I am putting you in,” Paul categorically stated.

  She grew thoughtful. “That does raise an interesting question. Eventually, I will have to tell him what is going on. I mean, when I start walking again—ooh, what a wonderful day that will be!—he is going to ask a ton of questions!”

  “Yes, at some point, he must be told,” Paul concurred. “However, the timing is important. If we tell him before the wedding, he will try even harder to talk you out of it. And if we wait to tell him afterward, he will be furious with you for not trusting him.”

  Capie looked at the floor, her mood suddenly solemn. “Yes, you are right. What do you recommend?”

  Paul shook his head. “I wish I had a recommendation. Let me think on it, and I’ll get back to you later.”

  “Okay, so a nice wedding with friends and family. When?”

  “Good question. Let me think for a moment.” For several seconds, Paul tried to seriously consider her question. “We can’t wait too long. I was serious about having to leave Chicago at some point. But I am still in the middle of preparations for a talisman and also in my AI research. I’ve got maybe four more months of work to do.”

  “Four months, heh?” Capie repeated, chewing on her lower lip. “Putting on a wedding is a lot of work and takes a great deal of planning. Receptions, invitations, catering, decorations, and so on. But I’m sure we can pull it off in four months. Ooh, do you want a church wedding or a civil wedding?”

  “A church wedding, please.”

  “Good, I agree. I’ll talk to my pastor since obviously you can’t talk to yours. Oh, do you want a bachelor party?”

  “A bachelor party?” Paul asked, puzzled. “You mean the kind where a bunch of men sit around, get drunk, watch dirty movies, and have a naked woman jump out of a cake? That kind of bachelor party?”

  Capie froze for a moment and then said, “You’re right. Bad idea. Forget I mentioned it.”

  He held up a hand. “There are two other items to put on the schedule. First, I would like to give you a detailed rundown on The Plan. You should have a really good idea of what you are getting into before you marry me. We should do that as soon as possible. Then, second, giving you magical powers.”

  “Yes, ooh, you are right. There is no point in waiting. Are you suggesting that we do both now? Tonight?”

  “No, not tonight. It’s going to take me another hour or so to fully explain my Plan, and quite frankly, I ins
ist on doing that before I give you magical powers. Let’s do that tomorrow night. Also, it took me at least a day to recover from the genie’s spell. I suggest that we start first thing Saturday morning with the spell, assuming that I don’t scare you off when I explain the details of The Plan. You will have a chance to recover from the spell during the weekend. Then you can begin healing your spinal cord. And I can teach you a few simple incantations to use for your spells.”

  “That’s good,” she giggled. “Ah, I, I can’t tell you how much I love you!”

  Paul felt giddy with delight. “I know. I feel the same way about you.” He paused, smiling at her. “Have you had dinner yet?”

  She shook her head. “No, I was too nervous.”

  “Then let’s go out to celebrate. I know just the place. Everest.”

  Capie smiled. “I love French. And I especially love that restaurant! But we don’t have a reservation!”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure that can be taken care of.”

  • • • •

  Friday night, Paul arrived at her house sharply at 5 p.m. with a large hot pizza on the passenger seat beside him.

  Skipping merrily up the walk, pizza box in one hand and drinks in the other, Paul casually glanced at the doorbell, and with his spell, it rang.

  “Come on in, the door’s open!”

  With a twitch of his nose, the door swung open, and he entered, the pizza box thrust out in front of him. Grinning like the school idiot, Paul blew on the box, using a little magic to send the aroma drifting further into the house.

  “What is that smell?” Capie asked, rolling forth from the kitchen. “Ah, pizza! What toppings?”

  “Your half has bell peppers, olives, pepperoni, and mushrooms with extra cheese. My half has sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms, and ham.”

  She displayed a wide grin. “You may keep your half, but thanks for remembering all my favorites. Let’s eat! They tortured me all day today at work, and I couldn’t wait to get home! What did you get to drink?”

  “A caffeine free diet cola drink for you and root beer for me, of course. Honestly, I don’t know why you drink this stuff,” Paul remarked. “A soft drink without caffeine and sugar is just flavored water with a little fizz thrown in.”

  He sat the food and drinks down on the dining-room table, made his way into the kitchen, and retrieved some plates, utensils, and glasses.

  “Here goes my cholesterol levels again,” she observed. “And after last night’s meal, too!”

  Paul smiled smugly. He still felt like bursting out into song at any moment. Fortunately, for the sake of Capie’s ears, he refrained from doing so. “And how often does a person get engaged? Besides, pizza is the OEBF—the Official Engineer’s Brain Food—and we will need that for later, when we get into our little discussion.”

  “Are you still determined to talk me out of marrying you?” she asked, levering a large slice of pizza from the box to her plate.

  “‘The most dangerous thing in the world is to try and leap a chasm in two jumps,’” Paul quoted with dignified seriousness.

  Capie laughed. “Who said that?”

  “David Lloyd George,” Paul replied. “The British Prime Minister during World War I. I did a report on him back in my college history class.” He dug a slice out of the box and popped the lid on his root beer.

  “Sounds like a practical man to me,” Capie agreed.

  “He was one of those ultra-liberals, especially in his day. But enough of history. Let’s talk shop.”

  “Hmmm, that’s good pizza!” she pronounced around the food in her mouth.

  “Lip-smacking good,” Paul said, taking a huge bite.

  “That quote is for chicken,” Capie corrected him. “I have no idea what they say for good pizza.”

  Paul shrugged. “You got me there. I can’t think of a single quotable quote regarding pizza.”

  “Here’s one,” she said, lifting another slice out of the box. “Never eat more than you can lift—Miss Piggy.”

  Paul raised both eyebrows, amused. “Quoting from the Muppets, now, are we? Ah, I declare a truce. At least until I finish this slice.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. Paul enjoyed every bite, feeling that all was right with the world.

  After two slices, his appetite was satisfied, at least for the time being.

  “Shall we retire to the living room now?” Paul asked.

  “Bring the box, in case we get hungry again,” Capie suggested.

  “I can guarantee that we will,” Paul responded. He grabbed the pizza box and the drinks.

  In the living room, he sat the food on the coffee table and then helped Capie out of the wheelchair onto the couch.

  “Okay, let’s talk about The Plan,” she said, stretching out a bit and making herself comfortable. Paul sat next to her, snuggling up close.

  Waving a hand, he created a large display that floated in midair.

  “Yes, let’s get the mundane stuff out of the way so that we can move on to some serious necking.”

  She punched his arm. “Funny man.”

  Paul waved his hand again. The display cleared to show a global map of Earth, complete with the national boundaries.

  “As best as I can tell from my research, there are 311 wizards, all told, give or take a dozen or so. They don’t exactly advertise where they are, but based on my best intelligence, this is what I have so far.”

  The map lit up with a number of red dots scattered all across the face of the globe.

  “It looks like they’re in a lot of different countries, all the world’s capitals,” Capie observed.

  “Which makes sense,” Paul declared with conviction. “They need to be fairly close to the seats of power. Oh, sure, they could use portals to go anywhere and thus they could live in any city of their choice. But from my research, they don’t seem to do that, choosing instead to live close by the reins of power.”

  “So how do you plan to take those reins away from them?” she asked. “I hate to say it, but 311 to 1 is bad odds. It’s worse when you throw those Oni into the mix too.”

  “That’s correct,” Paul concurred, admiring her astute question. “It’s true that I plan to make a very powerful talisman, much better than anything they have. And that would be enough to let me take them on individually or even a small group at a time. But not 311 of them, no.”

  “But you have a plan for that?” she prompted him.

  “I will have to have help,” Paul asserted. “An army of my own to counter their army.”

  “An army? Against wizards? Or an army of wizards?”

  “Of. Definitely of. Boiled down, there are three possible choices for candidates for the army of wizards I plan to recruit,” Paul explained with an austere air.

  “Let me guess the first one. You could recruit — what did you call us? Ah, Normals — you could recruit Normals for your army. Take a bunch of Normals and make them wizards too.”

  “That was my first thought as well,” Paul admitted pensively. “Out of 7.2 billion people on Earth, it should be possible to select a couple of thousand qualified people to serve in my army. They would have to be intelligent, resourceful, fearless, honest, dedicated and focused on the mission of the greatest good for mankind.”

  “It sounds like the basis of a good TV series,” Capie noted.

  “Or a science fiction book,” Paul added. “Such as the E.E. Doc Smith Lensman series, or the Search TV series in the early ‘70’s. Even Starfleet in all the Star Trek series.”

  “Something tells me that you don’t like that choice,” she conjectured.

  “Correct. Give that lady two gold stars out of petty cash,” Paul responded, with a more humorous spirit. “I believe I could raise such an army and defeat the combined efforts of the existing wizards on Earth. But what happens after that? What becomes of all the thousands of wizards of my army? Do you think that when they have virtually unlimited abilities and power, that they would willingly step back into
the background, resuming their former lives?”

  “Ah, good point. I had not considered that problem,” Capie conceded thoughtfully.

  “There was an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. ‘The Hunted,’ where enhanced soldiers were imprisoned after a war because their enhancements could not be reversed and the general populace were afraid to allow them to mingle with the rest of society.”

  “I remember it well,” Capie acknowledged. “You’re saying you don’t want to create a long term problem like that on Earth.”

  “Exactly, not if there is another solution.”

  She looked thoughtful. “You said there were three choices. What is the second choice?”

  “I could create another species altogether to do the dirty work, like the Oni.”

  “Ugh, that sounds like a bad choice,” Capie judged.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Paul concurred. “It would be essentially using the same techniques and capabilities that the wizards of Errabêlu already use. As a couple of my ‘advisors’ have already pointed out, if I want to win this war, I need to use modern science and technology, not the same strategies and tactics they use.”

  “You’re building up to something,” she guessed. “The third choice. It has something to do with modern science and technology?”

  “Very much so, yes.”

  Paul saw her expression when she added two plus two.

  “The AI project you are working on!” she gasped. “You’re going to make robots?”

  “Not exactly, no, but close. Technically speaking, a robot is a fully mechanical conscienceless device. And an android is an autonomous humanlike robot. What I propose to make is neither one. I intend to make an artificially intelligent device that is capable of using magical powers.”

  “That’s…bold,” Capie declared with a hint of admiration. “Is it possible?”

  Paul sighed in sudden uncertainty. “I don’t know yet. I have two major hurdles to jump. First, creating the AI program that closely mimics the human mind. And second, giving them the ability to use magical powers. At the moment, I don’t know if either objective is achievable. But if they are, it would give me enormous flexibility and power. Since such devices would inherently be easier to program than humans, I would have no qualms about creating an army of them to help free Earth from slavery to the wizards. Afterward, they would act as guardians of the planet, guaranteeing no wizard would ever misuse his powers again.”