Pete stopped laughing, and winced from the force of the grip. Fredricks had a wild look in his eyes. He must have been close to cracking.
"Agent, you won't believe me, but yes, I know what's going on."
"So talk," Fredricks said, not releasing his grip in the slightest.
"Well, you see, it's magic. At least I think it's magic."
"Magic? Come on, Samson. You can do better than that," Fredricks responded, now loosening his grip.
Pete shrugged, getting his coat back in its proper place on his back. "No really, it's magic. You see, I wish for things, and then the pennies duplicate. I don't know how it works, or why, but it's got to be magic."
Fredricks frowned, tilted his head, and waited a minute. Pete squirmed, but managed not to say anything, waiting for Fredricks to respond. Presently, he did. "You know what I think, Samson? Somehow, someway, you've found a way to duplicate objects like pennies. Some machine, maybe. Maybe something that got out of control?"
"No, it's not a machine. It's magic, like I said."
Fredricks was in no mood to joke around, that was clear. "Enough with the magic stuff. Where's the machine, and how do we turn it off?"
Pete shook his head. Agent Fredricks didn't believe him. Pete could understand how Fredricks had concocted his notion that there was some kind of device involved. It certainly was a lot easier to believe than the truth. Pete needed to stall. "Okay, I'll come clean. It's buried in there, under the pile of pennies."
"Now we're getting somewhere. What sets it off?" Fredricks asked.
Again, Pete couldn't tell the truth. Fredricks wasn't about to believe any stories about magic or anything not explained by some kind of machine. So what could he tell him? Pete looked at his wrist as if he were looking for a watch. "What time is it?"
"10:02 AM," Fredricks responded, glancing at the time on the cell phone in his hand.
"The next one will be at Noon then," Pete said making up a time. That gave him two hours to come up with something.
"Noon. Okay, Samson, you're going to stay here in this patrol car while we uncover that machine of yours. Then you're going to turn it off," Fredricks said, waving a uniformed officer over. "Put him in that car and watch him. Don't let him out of your sight," Fredricks said, and walked away.
Pete sighed. It was becoming another bad day in the life of Pete Samson.
###
Pete sat in the back of the patrol car. It was the third time he had been in a police car now, and he couldn't say that he enjoyed it any better this time. The only good thing was that it gave him time to think. At first, he couldn't do much but regret what was going on. Everything was his fault. He had to make it right, but he had no idea how to do it.
Maybe he could wish it away, he thought, but that hadn't turned out too good the last time he had tried. It certainly was an option, but the biggest problem was how to do it. Wishing away his last wish hadn't done anything to stop the pennies, which was the real problem here, not the wishes themselves.
While he mused over these thoughts, activity outside of the car hadn't stopped. A fleet of big yellow dump trucks and a couple of construction loaders with big shovels pulled up while he thought. The big loaders scooped the pennies into their shovels, and dumped them into the trucks. For each bucket full, the trucks sagged more, their heavy springs compressing noticeably. Pete wondered where they were taking the pennies but he didn't really care. Anywhere away from here would be good enough for him. He noticed that the loaders were having a hard time moving the pennies quickly. For each load they took away, the pile flowed back into the vacant spot.
There was progress, but it was slow and tedious. Pete doubted they would get to the middle of the pile in time doing it this way. Not that it really mattered. When they got to the middle, there would be no device to find.
After a while, Fredricks yelled to stop and consulted with three other guys in suits just like his. Other agents, Pete surmised. They motioned over the two drivers of the loaders and had a discussion. When the discussion broke up, the men returned to the loaders, and started pushing the pennies around rather than trying to pick them up. The result was better, but still too slow.
Pete really wasn't paying much attention to the work being done. It was like a surreal play, one he watched from a seat in the audience, waiting to see what happened next, and dreading the outcome. The pennies had to be stopped, that he knew. The next wish would result in so many pennies that the mound would spread out over several blocks, engulfing everything in them.
When Pete moved the pennies to the warehouse he had no idea this was going to happen. He had always believed that he was in control, and could stop the wishing, or the pennies, at any time. He realized now how foolish and irresponsible that had been. The only way he was certain to stop the pennies was by making no more wishes. That would do it, no doubt, but if he had learned anything it was that he couldn't keep that from happening. Sooner or later, he would fall asleep and dream something up and the pennies would blossom again.
Pete looked at the clock in the cruiser's dash, noticing that his two hours were almost up. The work outside with the pennies had only increased in that time and three more loaders had arrived to help, but they were still a long way away from the center of the pile and the imaginary machine they were seeking.
Suddenly, all the activity stopped, and the big construction equipment moved away from the penny pile. Pete heard the speaker on the cruiser's radio saying to move everyone back. Fredricks must have realized they weren't going to make it, either.
Pete frowned, noticing that Fredricks was still standing near the pile as a couple of guys in big, dumpy suits showed up. Pete was confused until one of them turned around and he was able to see the words Bomb Squad on the back of one of their vests. Why did they need a bomb squad, Pete wondered, and then understood as the two men trundled up the slope of the pennies carrying a cylindrical object about the size of a coffee can. It looked like Fredricks had a backup plan.
The bomb wouldn't do much other than blow the pennies around, Pete thought, but Fredricks must have thought he had no other options. Given the information Fredricks had, Pete had to admit that's probably what he would have tried, too.
Pete mulled over whether he should try to stop Fredricks or not. Even if he wanted to, he wasn't sure that he could. Fredricks wouldn't believe the truth, and Pete wasn't creative enough to convince him with a lie. The machine idea wasn't even his. Fredricks came up with that all on his own. It would be wasted effort to try to convince the agent otherwise.
The bomb squad was out of Pete's sight behind the penny pile, and Pete squirmed, hoping that they'd get it over with soon. He hated waiting, and when it was over, Fredricks would assume the mysterious machine had been destroyed. Then, Fredricks would arrest him for real.
A few minutes before Noon, his wait was over. The two Bomb Squad men scurried back over the edge of the pile, running as if demons were following. They came down off the pile, and got into a waiting police car. Fredricks headed toward the cruiser Pete was in.
"Let's go," Fredricks said..
"Right," the driver replied, and gunned the car.
Fredricks twisted in his seat. "Samson, I sure hope this works. I'm looking forward to making you pay for this. It's given me nothing but pain." Pete didn't respond. It was probably best, considering the mood Fredricks was in.
"You can stop here," Fredricks said, looking at his watch. "This should be safe." He pulled out a small box with a light, button, and a switch on it. Fredricks threw the switch, and the red light came on. Then he pushed the button. A loud whump, and a rumbling followed. Most of the explosion was contained underneath the surface, but not quite all. The mound of pennies exploded from the top, like an erupting volcano, spewing copper pennies everywhere.
A few of the pennies made it as far as the cruiser they were in, but not many. The few that did make it, made a familiar tinkle tinkling sound that Pete
had become accustomed to. A few bounced off the cruiser here and there, making sharp clinks and bangs.
Fredricks looked at his watch. "One more minute before Noon," was all he said. Pete knew Fredricks was waiting to see if the bomb had taken out the elusive and nonexistent machine, but Pete didn't need to wonder. Unless he wished for something, the pile wouldn't grow. One way or the other, he would have to get himself out of this, and his best answer seemed to be another wish. The only question was what to wish for?
Should he wish that it had never happened? That seemed a little drastic. There had to be a way to end this without giving up everything. There just had to be. After all, the only real problem here was the pennies. If he could get rid of them, or contain them, everything would be solved. And even though racking his brain for the last couple of hours hadn't revealed an answer, Pete knew he was close to something.
Time ticked by, and after a while Fredricks turned to him from the front seat. "Time's up, and it still hasn't gone off. Are you sure it was Noon?"
Pete needed more time, but he didn't have any. "Yes."
"Maybe we got it. We'll give it a couple of minutes to be sure," Fredricks said, keeping a close eye on the pile.
Did he want to keep Fredricks thinking it was a machine, Pete wondered? If he didn't make another wish within the next two minutes, Fredricks would think his bomb had blasted the machine, and Fredricks may very well think the problem was solved. If Pete made a wish, the pennies would grow again, and Fredricks would think that the bomb didn't work. Either way, Pete would be in trouble. They could already charge him with counterfeiting, and even though copying a single penny meant nothing, the value of millions of them surely would, regardless of the costs involved. They would lock him up for a long time. He couldn't let that happen.
Pete concentrated, trying to forget Fredricks and the pennies for the moment. He needed to come up with a clear and concise wish that would solve his current problem and get him out of trouble. After that, he could worry about what to do with the pennies. Pete considered the situation and decided the best thing would have been for the police not to have been able to trace the ownership of the warehouse back to him. That way, they wouldn't have any idea he had anything to do with the pennies.
"Okay, time's up," Fredricks said. "I guess it's finished. What a relief." He turned back to look at Pete, and the rough, stern look came back into his face, washing out the relieved and cheerful one. "Mr. Samson, you are hereby under arrest for counterfeiting, creating a public nuisance, and whatever else I can think of before we book you. You have the right...," Fredricks was saying. Pete ignored him and made his wish.
###
"Dear, have you been watching the news?" Janet asked.
"Eh?" Pete said, blinking and shaking his head. "What's that?"
"Have you been watching the news? The weirdest thing is going on just a little way from here. There's a mysterious pile of growing pennies that won't stop. It's covered almost four square blocks now. Here, see?" she said, pointing to the TV.
Sure enough, in front of him was a newscast showing the inexplicable mound of pennies. I guess the wish worked, Pete thought. At least, I'm not under arrest anymore. "Hmmm. Yes, it's quite strange, isn't it?" he said.
"They said earlier that if it keeps growing, it'll mess up the entire Earth," she said.
"What?" Pete asked, sitting up and spilling his iced tea.
"Yes. Here, CNN will probably be talking about it. They repeat everything, you know," she said, picking up the remote and changing the channel. Pete watched the television intently for a few minutes before he heard what he was after.
"We have with us now, Professor Green of MIT," the CNN reporter said. "Professor Green has multiple doctorates and degrees in mathematics and physics and is one of the leading experts in both fields. Doctor, can you explain what caused this mound of pennies to appear, and why it is growing?"
"No I can't, but the FBI have some interesting theories, which at this time are as good as any," Doctor Green answered.
"That would be Agent Fredricks, who was just on a few minutes ago," the CNN reporter explained. "Agent Fredricks thought some kind of machine was involved, right?" the reporter asked. Pete snorted.
"Yes, and a machine of the type he describes could explain the pennies," Doctor Green said. "The difficulty with that theory is that we don't have the technology to pull it off. At least I don't know of any."
"Well, if we don't know where the pennies are coming from, or how to stop them duplicating, what do you think we should do?"
"I don't really know, but you have to understand the consequences if this continues. Scientifically, it's an intriguing but simple problem. If we can't stop it, it will destroy the planet."
"A few pennies? How can pennies destroy the Earth?" the reporter asked, sounding surprised.
"Well, consider this mound of pennies. The mound continues to grow, appearing to roughly double in size at random intervals, also doubling the weight and stress they put on the Earth. To put this in perspective, if you took a single penny and doubled the number of them every day, then in a month's time you'd have over a million pennies."
"That quickly?"
"Yes. The growth is exponential. Day one, you have one. Day two, you have two. Day three, four. Day four, eight, and so on. We already have millions of these pennies and the growth continues."
The reporter looked a little perplexed, and frowned. "So, if it continues, they'll cover the entire Earth? Burying us all in pennies?"
"Oh, you don't need to worry about that. The Earth would be irreparably damaged, and us all gone before that happened."
Pete sat a little forward in his chair, his heart racing. They were just pennies. How could a few pennies destroy the Earth?
"What do you mean?" the reporter asked.
"First, consider a few facts about a penny. One penny weighs 2.5 grams. It takes 400 pennies to equal a kilogram, which is equal to about 2 pounds. That isn't a lot, but if you've ever saved pennies in a jar, you can understand how quickly they can add up and how much a bunch of them weigh."
"Yes, I've saved coins in jars, and after a time, they get extremely heavy."
"Yes, they do, and these are normal pennies, as far as weight and size. The weight of a few million pennies, like we have right now, has very little impact, but that's only if they quit duplicating. Every time they duplicate, the weight doubles. Eventually, it'll be large enough to start affecting the Earth's rotation."
"How would it do that?" the reporter asked.
"The Earth is always spinning, and if you think of this spin like a ceiling fan, you'll understand. When the fan is balanced perfectly, it spins smoothly. If it is out of balance, even a little bit, it wobbles. This happens because the center of mass has changed. Once there are enough pennies, they'll unbalance the Earth's rotation, and the planet will wobble, just like the fan. This will upset the fragile and carefully balanced climate of the Earth, and the stresses will likely cause gigantic earthquakes and tidal waves as well. We'll have tremendous storms and cataclysmic events that will wipe us out."
"That sounds ominous Doctor."
"It is, and we need to take it seriously. If we can't stop the duplication of these mysterious pennies, I'm afraid it'll destroy us," the Doctor said, shaking his head sadly.
Pete sighed and closed his eyes. He had heard enough. So much for good luck. So much for all the things that the pennies had given to him. It didn't matter. It would be gone unless he could stop it, and he was the only one that could.
But he still had no idea how to stop it. His wishes, whether intentional, or subconscious, had always worked, but nothing had stopped the pennies from duplicating, meaning he couldn't simply wish for the pennies to quit duplicating. He wasn't sure exactly what might happen if he did, but he was sure it wouldn't solve the problem.
Then an idea came to him. If the pennies were the problem, why not simply wish them off the Earth
entirely, say into the sun or something. In space, they couldn't cause any problems. Yes, that seemed to be the answer, the solution, and he wished for it to happen.
In the background, he could hear the TV. He could clearly see that something was happening with the mound of pennies as the CNN cameras zoomed in on it. The pennies were starting to rise, flowing up from the mound, at first slowly, and then more quickly. It looked like it was working.
Then he heard a tinkling from the TV. The pennies were duplicating again. Clutching the sides of the chair, he cursed as he saw the pennies that had started to rise, now raining down as they duplicated. People ran away as best they could from the shower of pennies now assaulting them, many not fast enough.
The devastation from the growing mound had been bad enough, crushing the buildings and anything else in its path, but the penny rain was worse. As the pennies came down, they were like a hailstorm, piling up wherever they landed. When enough of them piled up on the roof of a building, the roof collapsed. And not just roofs. Cars were crushed under the weight, trees sagged, and several unfortunate people were trapped under piles of the pennies as well.
After a while, the penny rain stopped, and Pete felt sick. From the camera shots he could see that a lot of people had been hurt, maybe even killed. He sat back and started to cry, tears running down his face. Why had this happened? It just didn't seem fair, and he wished it never had.
###
Pete opened his eyes, but immediately closed them, feeling woozy. Instinctively, he reached up to his aching head, feeling something wet. He cringed as his hand encountered an open gash on his forehead.
Opening his eyes again, he could tell that he was sitting in his SUV. A broken telephone pole, bent and partially shattered, could be seen through the cracked windshield. Hot steam poured out from under the hood, keeping him from seeing much beyond that. It took him a minute to realize that he was back in his SUV right after the accident that had started this whole mess. He smiled and winced. His wish had worked. Why he was back in the SUV after the accident, he had no idea, but at least he wouldn't be responsible for the destruction of the world or anyone else getting hurt. He could live with that.
He sat for a few minutes, thinking that he needed to get help, but still unable to move without his head pounding. After a while, he managed to get out and head toward the same bus-stop bench from a few days ago. Or was this the first accident? He didn't know, and it hurt to think, so he didn't dwell on it.