As I park the car outside my favourite coffee shop, I see something strange.
There are no other cars parked outside. I do not think I have ever seen this place without cars parked outside. It is one of the best coffee shops in town, in the country, in the world! How are there no cars?
Oh my God, are they going out of business? Where will I get my daily coffee from?! Where will I sit when I have nothing to do and nowhere to go? Where can I be completely useless?
No. Focus. Do not digress.
There being no cars is a problem because my target was supposed to have arrived in a particularly ugly poop-coloured Toyota. I see none. What is an assassin to do when her target does not show up? Assassin school prepared me for this. I will lie in wait.
I get out of my car and enter the coffee shop all prepared to wait. And get a mini heart attack.
My target. Right there. She is sitting with five other ladies and they are having a tea party. I quickly drop down and hide under a table. I have no idea why; she has never seen me before. There is an annoying mosquito under this table.
I peek around the legs of the chair I am behind. Wait! The cups are moving. On their own. Their Japanese tea party has magic moving cups. They are all drinking from all the cups. They are sharing their saliva! Why! Disgusting! Do they not think about the massive transfer of alien bacteria and microscopic food particles from five other people?! Do they not realise that saliva is essentially a biochemical cocktail of microbial warfare? They are wiping the rim of the cups before drinking from them as if that changes anything. And they are wiping it with their hands! Microbes everywhere! This is terrifying. And I am supposed to be the assassin. These people do not need an assassin at this rate.
But I have a job, and disgusted as I am, I will do it. I came prepared with a tasteless powder to drop into her drink. She will not die immediately, she will go home, lie down to sleep, and not wake up. I am subtle. Assassin school taught me well.
But these cups, they are moving. They are moving on their own, across the table at random. How am I to know which one will reach her next? How are they moving? Is there a pattern? Why are they moving? Should I guess and drop the poison in a random cup and hope it reaches her?
I am used to meting out death. I can do this. But something holds me back. Despite being an assassin, I revere life. I revere the concept of life, to be more precise. Is it not amazing and strange and magical that somehow in the universe, people exist? That I exist? That these six people with their microbes exist? And if I dropped the powder in a random cup…
What if the wrong person dies?
WHAT IF THE WRONG PERSON DIES?
Dies, yes, dice. Roll the dice, kill the person. The first rule we were taught in assassin school. Let the wrong person die. Keep rolling the dice till everyone you want dead is dead.
And yet.
What is life if I have the power to end it?
Am I God?
Holy shit. Am I God?
Is that why there were no other cars parked? Because they knew my chariot was coming? Which God am I? Do my followers have a religion or are they just spiritual? Do I search for my own followers? Do I seek them out? Do I need them? Do I need the validation? Or will they find me as I keep killing?
More importantly…
CAN I MAKE CAKE JUST BY WISHING IT INTO EXISTENCE?
I try.
Cake does not appear. This is disappointing. Maybe I can try for coffee. Then it would not matter if this place goes out of business.
I try.
Coffee does not appear either.
Maybe it is followers I need. There are six people with magic cups – if they have seen magic, would they not believe in God? It is very likely they will, which is perfect because I don’t believe my self-esteem can take rejection right now.
I go to the table with the six cups. As soon as I reach the table, the cups stop moving. The tea party breaks. The women start screaming. I start screaming. None of us has any idea what is happening, and they are throwing the cups at me and the tea scalds and I cannot take this and I run out in terror.
I get right into my car and go home, knowing that as God, sometimes I must let people live.