"What would have happened if I hadn't had the pen today?" Dave asked.
"Oh, you'd all be dead. That man would have shot all of you, and then shot himself. Quite tragic. Now give it here! I am MORE THAN DOOMED then I don't return that pen to my master, er boss!"
Dave had no idea if the genocide of fairies had been undone or not, but autism was still around. The revision with Claire proved that reversing or change what the pen had already written was not impossible.
What kind of apathetic human being wouldn't even use this power to restore an entire people or remove one of humanity blights that hadn't existed before? On the bright side, hopefully it meant that this master would be too apathetic to undo Dave's changes, which apparently included altering fate so he and his co-workers didn't all die tragic pointless meaningless deaths.
There was so much more he wanted to do with the pen's power, he had such visions of what he could do with it.
On the other hand he didn't want to condemn this man to a fate worse than death. Wait.
" . . . You NEED ME to give the pen to you!"
"Yes you need to give me the pen, we've gone over that."
"No. That's not what I meant. You're protected from any change the pen makes to existence. You're determined to get this back no matter what or else. If you could rush me, strangle me, kick me in the groin, bite me, anything, grab the pen, and run for it, you would. I'm guessing this pen can only be let go if I abandon it of my own actions. You're a hundred times more scared of your boss then you ever could be of me. My life means nothing to you."
The little man, Schlomo, eyes widened in shock and fear. Dave had been right.
"PLEASE GIVE IT BACK!!!" Schlomo wailed hugging Dave's legs. And he understood why of course.
"You know . . . I'm not the thief."
"Of course you're not! A stupid commoner like you could never have reached, let alone taken the pen!" He gasped and covered his mouth. "That is- excuse me."
"That's just it though. Whoever stole this pen clearly went through a LOT of trouble, something this powerful? Go to all that trouble only to lose it? A thief is more determined and more ruthless to steal back whatever they steal than sometimes even the rightful owner. Yet you had to come from halfway around the world, I found this pen in this building. If it's clear whoever stole this took a big gamble. They wouldn't just run off without a fight. If they were powerful enough to steal this, then they wouldn't just shrug their shoulders and walk away . . . Unless they wanted it to be found by someone. But the bigger question is if someone would steal this, and it has the power even your boss fears, why wouldn't they use it sooner than later? Since it's clear they'd be a dead man, or likely worse once they were caught."
"NONE OF THAT MATTERS YOU STUPID COMMON- I Mean good sir! Either you give me the pen, or I suffer in a way that will make me envy those who resided in Auschwitz!"
While Dave had no taste for this little man's attitude towards 'the lower class filth', he didn't want to see him suffer horribly, and it was clear this man was blindly loyal to his master.
Dave sighed.
He offered out the pen to the little man who snatched it like a cobra. Or would have, but instead he jerked his hand back with a yelp as the pen fell between this grasps and rolled back to Dave's feet. There was now a little prick on Schlomo's thumb. Had the pen rejected him?
Dave remembered what they said about power corrupts. He didn't want to become a monster. And whoever Schlomo worked for, they were the stuff of things that Dave thought were just fantasy before, and far beyond anything Dave thought was real.
Maybe he was just over his head.
If the pen had intended to lie to him just to keep it with him, assuming it was intelligent enough to lie in the first place, it would have created a far more black and white depiction for Dave to make his choice on.
Dave picked it up, Schlomo made no attempt, or maybe couldn't stop him. He wrote down a question on the paper.
'This piece of paper has written on it, what's important I need to know about this pen.'
'This pen, may only be used by one who is both mortal and one who was not born into nobility. It can never kill.'
'Is this pen stolen?'
'Yes.'
'For how long?'
'Two hundred fifty seven years, three months, two days, an hour, and three minutes.'
Realization hit Dave. "This pen . . . doesn't belong to your master."
"IT -SHOULD HAVE- BELONGED to NOBILITY! NOT PIG-BRAINED SERFS!" Schlomo snarled.
Dave kick a swift kick that sent the amulet flying from Schlomo's neck. He gasped horror.
'Schlomo is sent somewhere his master will NEVER find or harm him, nor will he come to harm and he'll be happy and fulfilled. Nor will his master ever find or harm me or anyone I care about, have cared about, or will care about.'
Schlomo vanished.
-On a planet in the Andromeda Galaxy, a thousand years into the future-
Schlomo suddenly found himself naked in a circle of thatched huts, surrounded by purple skinned people with solid white eyes.
"It's as the prophecy said!" A small child wearing a dress made of giant flower pedals said, "A strange creature has come to lead our people! Humble, simple, not proud!" She was not speaking english but Schlomo understood her perfectly.
Schlomo screamed and tried to run, but he was picked up by the people, cheering for him. Schlomo realized he might be able to get used to it.
+++
Dave panted. Either he had done something fundamentally stupid, and was going to be tortured unspeakably or obliterated by a god-like level entity, or just might have done something good.
Dave suddenly remembered he had an office meeting to go to. He could transform others after it was over.
When he arrived, most of the men present were already sitting down. The client apparently, was a black suited man who was completely baled with pale featured. He eyed Dave, and the pouch he had around his leg.
Dave sighed. He was dead.
"This isn't how I expected things to turn out . . . still, you certainly are making interesting so far. I was actually going to ask for it back, but given the situation, I get the feeling the pen had grown fond of you." He whispered.
"Uh, excuse Mr-"
"Prometheus, my good reman, Mr. Prometheus. Before you ask. Yes, I AM a thief, but fancy myself one who steals from the powerful and gives to the not so powerful. Life is change. Nobility LIVE to protect the status quo, to keep the world frozen, neither growing nor changing, for good and evil."
"What are you here for?"
"I'm actually here to sell a product. I'll admit, it was something else I stole from someone powerful, but much mundane, but also wanting to keep it hidden to protect the status quo. What would your company say to research that'll lead in a fews year to a cure to cancer? Or should I just post it all over the internet? That was actually my first impulse. But where are my manners, let me begin my presentation."
Still stunned, Dave watched as Mr. Prometheus set up a slid show. Joe, the kangaroo, glared at him, and Dave remembered to politely sit down Mr. Prometheus began his sale pitch to the company.