Part 6 of some new science fiction. If you're just tuning in, consider starting with part 1. The image above was created with stable diffusion.
Having hidden out in his house for several days, materializing meals and becoming immensely popular on social media, James found himself going a little stir crazy. More government people came every day, asking him to answer new questions or draw pictures of what he saw. Growing bored with this, James texted Krissa Botkins, a former coworker with whom he'd once made out at an office party.
Krissa agreed to meet James at an Ethiopian restaurant nearby. He had his Servant fit him with a black cashmere track suit with crumpled gold piping, making a sleek new artifact satchel to match. Military police stood guard outside his front door and a handful of reporters sat in their cars, staking the place out, waiting for something to report.
Opening the front door, within an invisible bubble of protection, James looked at one of the MPs. The soldier looked too young to be the police of anything. "I'm leaving," said James. "Meeting a friend. Are you gonna be cool?"
"What is your destination?" asked the young MP.
"Fasika, a block over," said James. "Then maybe somewhere else."
"I think he's hiding something," said the other MP.
"Yeah, well, a guy like me has stuff to hide," said James. As he left, the MPs remained at their post. Making it to the sidewalk, James was met by a reporter for the Post. Having been camping in her car, she appeared vaguely disheveled and very determined. "Mr Wayne?" she said. "Tina Dew. Post. Mind if I ask you a few questions? About your experiences on the Object?"
James didn't stop walking. Within ten feet, another reporter began trailing them. "Mr Wayne, Lou Tucker, with the Daily," said the interloper.
Shrugging, James used his wand to put the man to sleep, then kept walking. "Listen," he said. "You want my story, you're going to have to work for it."
"Anything," said Tina. "What do you need?"
"I need all the shit that celebrities have," said James. "An assistant and an agent and an attorney. A publicist. A spin factory. I don't know. The fact that I'm just guessing here shows how much I need this stuff before I start doing interviews."
"Thirty days of exclusive access and a book with your name on it," said Tina. "Agree to that, I'll get you set up."
"Okay, but if you screw me, I'll figure it out and make all kinds of trouble," said James.
"Sounds fair," said Tina. "Can we start tonight, or do you want to wait until morning?"
"How about noon?" asked James.
"Great," said Tina. "Answer a few quick questions while we walk? Of all people, why do you think the Visitors chose you?"
James chuckled. "Out of everyone, I was the least likely to make any kind of difference," he said. "They picked me because I was unimportant. Boring. Painfully average."
"I see," said Tina. "And did they give you any kind of mission when they let you go?"
"No, but they did seem concerned about what other people might try to do to me because I participated in their learning exercise," said James.
"Learning exercise?" asked Tina.
"I'll tell you tomorrow," said James stopping in a commercial. "This is me. Need my number?"
After giving Tina his number, James entered the restaurant and found Krissa already seated. They ordered from a broadly-grinning waiter and looked at the soccer match being played silently on a wall-mounted screen. Neither really knew what to say.
"So, you still at Fletcher Co?" asked James.
"Still there," said Krissa. "Are they?"
A cook and a busboy were recording them on a phone.
"Shit," said James. "I'd wave my magic want and put them to sleep, but then who'll make the food?"
"You have a magic wand?" asked Krissa.
"Pretty much," said James. "I can do all sorts of cool stuff now."
"Okay, so why call me?" asked Krissa. "I mean, it's not like we know each other. We kissed once, eight months ago. We send each other stupid memes sometimes. So what? Suddenly you're favored by an alien race and that gives you the courage to actually ask me out?"
"Pretty much," said James. "Honestly, out of everyone I know, I thought you'd have the most fun with this."
"I can live with that," said Krissa. "But I need you to do something for me. I need you to tell me what exactly is going on with that tracksuit."
"Is it too much?" asked James. "I was going for sleek and comfortable."
"Yes it's too much!" said Krissa. "Where did you even find it?"
"I made it an hour ago with some alien tech that I have," said James. "I can make anything now."
"What do you mean, make anything?" asked Krissa.
"Well, not living things, and I haven't tried very large things," said James. "But clothes, any style, any material, no problem."
"Could you make me designer knock-offs?" asked Krissa. "What about gold, or diamonds?"
"The government wants me to avoid making gold and jewels," said James. "Though they did have me make ruby and sapphire rods for their tests."
"You seem pretty calm about all of this," said Krissa. "How are you not freaking out?"
James laughed. "Seriously, do you think freaking out would help?" he asked.
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