Prologue: When she wishes, she wishes for less ways to wish for

Convergence: Book 1

Part I: Oliver’s World

By Operational Systems

“So, you submitted a story to a gun website?”

There were four men sitting at a short table for lunch. The small break room was otherwise empty, and as friends and colleagues they made a habit of eating together. All four were in their early to late thirties, but the tallest and oldest of the bunch, Paul, had directed the question to the youngest, David. The older man had just gotten his first pair of bifocals and was in the habit of dropping the spectacles down his nose when addressing others so he could look at them from above the rim.

David ducked his head in shame, he was already regretting mentioning it. He sheepishly tried to explain without explaining. “No, it's... like a fan fiction site, but all original stories and for this one genre. Themes around the fountain of youth. Or getting older, but no one writes those stories anymore. If you remember that old Justice League episode where everyone became a kid again, the stories are all kind of like that.”

An auburn-haired gentleman to his left, Gabe, responded quickly, “'I haven't been a kid since I was eight years old!' That might be the best line in the whole show. There's a cool fanfic I found that references that episode for how crazy it would be for all the adults on the planet to disappear, even for just a few hours. It would be hellish.” Whoops! Gabe did not mean to expose that he liked to read fan fiction, but if the class is in a sharing mood today.

“What's your story about?” Phil, a lanky man across the table, brought the conversation back to the part that matters. Phil had been losing his hair and decided to shave it all off, giving a nice clean look. The other three were still not used to seeing him bald.

The youngest was excited though, “OK, so this is it. There's a husband and wife and they both get a wish, but it's not like peace in the Middle East type of wish, it's something small that has to affect both of them. Oh, and it's sequential. He'll get his wish first and then her, so they have plenty of time to figure this out. He asks her what she is thinking she wants to do, so they can coordinate. Like, if she wants to travel, he can wish for a plane. And she says, 'I am going to wish for you to become my baby. Like a newborn.'”

“That sounds like a marriage that has underlying issues, and they should probably try to resolve it through mediation and therapy or if necessary, separation.” Paul said, pushing his glasses back up.

“Look, it's a story. Anyway, he tries to negotiate with her, what if we get you pregnant, or adopt a child, and so forth and so forth. He has all these things he wants, but he can't get any of them. All the things he wants to wish for don't make sense anymore. Can't wish for a better job, or a cool car, because he's going to become a baby. Even a hotter wife, more enjoyable sex life, or better health, who cares, he's going to become a baby. Fame? Fortune? Baby. Knowledge or spiritual enlightenment? Baby.”

“Just wish to cancel her wishes.” Gabe casually tossed out, like the problem was easy to solve. The youngest man turned his head to the left and his eyes went wide. David had not thought of that, but he was saved by Phil from across the table.

“That's like wishing for more wishes. You're wishing for negative wishes. You can't wish to change the numerical number of wishes available in the universe. That's a rule in Aladdin.”

David takes control again, “Uh, yes, anyways. So, the husband thinks about the problem all through the week at work. Meanwhile she is buying diapers and toys, and paints one of the rooms blue, and finally Friday comes and he returns home, and she says, 'can you help me assemble the crib?', and as they're doing that, actually having fun, and he finally figures out a wish. He says, 'I know the one thing a every new mother is scared of, more than anything, a fate so terrible you wouldn't even wish it on me. It's the fear that something bad will happen to her baby. Here is my wish, I wish that we will always share a bed together.' There! 'No crib for me, and you can't make me a baby.'”

Phil was excited, “That's crazy! Don't sleep with your baby, they'll get SIDS. I know it's like one in a million chance, but every mom imagines the worst, and moms panic about everything.”

Paul smiled, “That's a clever work around, both saves the marriage and keeps him out of diapers. So how does it end?”

“She wishes him to become a baby. See one of the things I want to write about is how different raising children is today compared to how we grew up. And he's crying saying, 'No I need to sleep in a crib if I'm a baby! What about my wish?' And as she picks him up, she says, 'Hun, it's twenty-twenty-three, most mommies who breastfeed sleep with their babies.”

“Wait is that true? Dude! That's hot. Baby gets to cockblock daddy and has his own mini fridge for nighttime snacking.” Phil spat out his review with rousing excitement, being a baby sounded fun.

“Oh yeah, we are the WEIRD ones. Western, industrial, etcetera. Cribs are like this big Freudian conspiracy. It's good for the father too. Three sleeping hearts all sync up.” David left out the part about the studies on hormonal changes. Loss of testosterone, reduced desire for sex, lower aggression, and more nurturing and protective. Babies had a superpower; they could transform a man into something more appropriate for their needs – a daddy.

Gabe was incredulous, “I still don't get it. Like, in twenty years is he going to be her son but also her husband still? Do they get to do it as he gets older? Does she have to follow him if he wants to go to college? Or is he a baby forever even when she's like ninety?”

Paul reminded him, “It's just a fun story, and it highlights something important. Kids today have some cool things we didn't have. But they also have a lot of problems we didn't. I'm not sure I'd want to go back around again, even if we found a fountain of youth.”

The men went around a circle, complaining about the kids these days, “They get so much screen time, but children still don't know how computers work and can barely type.”

“Plus, the quantity of parental attention is higher, but the quality of that time is lower.”

“You have to go to soccer practice and piano practice, even if you have no talent or interest. Always running car trip to car trip to car trip. Probably half the time is in a car these days.”

“So much extra studying to get into a good school so you can take on a hundred thousand in debt before you start your first real job at thirty.”

“Almost no other children around to play with, and adults keep trying to keep you out of their spaces.”

“Can't travel more than a block or your parents get in trouble for giving you too much space.”

“At least the TV is better now.”

“Oh of course. And they have the good old stuff too because we put it all on the internet. Disney Plus alone is better than anything I had with Saturday morning cartoons.”

“And food. Even baby food is better tasting.” The others looked at Phil on that one.

“At least spanking is on its way out,” David recovered for his friend.

With those, Paul and Phil left the table, back to the drudgery of the adult world as lunch was ending. The new author started to get up when Gabe stopped him. He double checked to make sure the room was empty.

“Not many people post on the archive anymore. You might be better off putting a copy of your story on the daily” he left a word out, “forums or legit fic if you're looking for feedback.”

David's eyes went wide. All these years neither had mentioned it or hinted at it.

Gabe relaxed and slid into a rant, “I always wanted to talk to an author. Something's been bothering me of late. The stories have all gotten much darker. And not like Little Trip dark, just stories where only the bad guys win. Even Trip wrote stories where good guys won. Take Bee-eff-Boy,” he caught himself; the young author probably did not know the old names.

“Uh, Mind-wiper. He just put out this great story. The hero figures everything out and has a chance to win. But he doesn't win. It's like Luke Skywalker shoots the torpedoes and he misses, and the Death Star blows up Yavin. Once or twice is fine, but every time? Even horror stories are hard to enjoy if you don't believe the protagonists have a chance.”

David defended himself, “I think it's OK for the 'bad guys' to win.”

“Yes, of course the bad guys have to win sometimes, makes the victories of the good guys better, but all the time?”

Oh no! David had a bunch of stories in him, and his first real feedback was a critique of how they were too depressing. Stories which had people shrink, swap bodies, mind regression, time travel, and role reversal. It actually sounded awful when thought about for more than a few seconds. None of these had a 'good' ending, at best acceptance and submission of how cool diapers and having a mommy were.

“Do you really think the wife in my story is the bad guy?”

“Well, that depends. Are you the type of person who likes wearing diapers?”