"Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."

~ Sir Terry Pratchett

A/N: Only half of this is edited. I revised this years later and gave up. Enjoy the cringefest. XD

∞

If I didn't have bad luck, I wouldn't have any luck at all.

For the umpteenth time, my silver eyes drag to the flying analog clock flapping around the perimeter along the beige wall. I stare at it with contempt. Every time my eyes glance at the hands, the time slows to an inhumane beat, as if it's on a mission to make me more miserable.

The work phone blares eagerly. With a roll of my eyes, I grunt as I pick up the receiver. A request comes through to print another set of papers. Slamming down the handle, I shoot out of my rolling chair.

Slumping to the antiquated printer, all the way at the end of the hall, a sign reads, "Out of Paper."

 Ugh! I want to smash it, but my weak knuckles probably wouldn't make a dent. My jaw flexes in annoyance as I trudge to the opposite side of the office, passing my low-rise desk. Thank the Lord it is working. Wait. Haha. Wrong.

The HP beeps at me, incessantly whaling for a diaper change. "Out of Toner," reads the electronic screen.

My eyes roll as I bang the stupid machine.

Of course, the corporation can afford luxury restrooms, but Vexit must have forgotten to update its laborer's offices in the remodeling plans.

As I tinker unskillfully with the ink cartridges, the printer formulates its plan to take vengeance. How nice of it to think that my clean, pale peach blouse is too flawless. I stick my fingers into the toner cartridge, and then it strikes, hurling its pewter ink on me. What the flapping penguins is wrong with my life! As I stare down, my shirt looks like a baby puked liquid tar mixed with the infamous exploded pen stench. It just has to be the one day of the week where I neglect to bring my workout clothes. Perfect. Just flip flapping great!

Foolishly, I think that that's the end of my bad luck. Yeah. Haha! No.

My boss wrinkles his nose like the snotty prince that refused the rose from the haggard lady as he sticks out a long sleeve t-shirt from the company's stockroom. The way his face twists in disgust as he orders me to switch tops straight away nearly makes me soil my knickers out of humiliation. He says it like I'm a naughty child who stole a biscuit from the jar.

I snatch the shirt from his bear paws and rush to the lady's restroom. He has such a loudmouth I bet the CEOs heard his baritone cry when he sent me away shamefully.

The door slides open, revealing the intoxicating odor of cleaning supplies. As I make my way to change in a stall, dividers ease down from the ceiling. Placing my stuff aside, I lift up the ruined top, that's when my mobile phone, holding all my important documentation, opts to take a plunge into the crystal clear, blue loo. And then the automated flush, well, it does a freaking job!

It takes forever to fish out the six by eight personal computer from the throat of the bowl. By the time I finally reach it, one of my sleeves is soaked through to the bone. I wouldn't be so embarrassing if the line, that magically appeared, disappeared. All ten women stare at me like I sprouted another head. I'm still debating which poison would have been less distressing as I duck through the foyer and back into Office P.

The clock ticks, ticks, ticks. My blonde bun, sagging against the back of my head, irritates the living hell out of my scalp. If I have anything to be thankful for, it's the fact that it's loosened since the time from beginning the day at the "penitentiary".

My palm wraps around the mouse, and I make squiggly lines with the cursor. A yawn passes through my throat sounding like a howl cut short from a baying beagle. I earn a few stares, but I pretend not to notice.

Not one person in this office fully smiles, ever. The only complete smiles I see are the ones hung to the magnetic strip lining the walls of each cubicle. A tiny smile spreads over my lips as I smooth my thumb over a photo on my wall. The small grin doesn't reach anywhere near my eyes, but at least my heart flutters with a spark of content.

Whack! I flinch. Ouch, what the freak was that? My hand clasps my temple as I whip my head to the left and I see the office's douche trying to look innocent. My eyes darken to an unhealthy charcoal as I narrow my eyes and shoot him a death glare that snarls, Do it again, and I swear you'll be sorry.

The ginger gets the message as he timidly turns back to work.

I've had it up to my ears with the bull crap this office has dished out today. First, the coffee brewer broke down just as I was going to get my daily cup. Then the secretary dumped her load of work on me of all people. She has a grudge from an office accident that I fully apologized for years ago. Then the printer incident, followed by my wrecked mobile, the judging women, and the immature office prick over there.

Ring! Ring! The dial tone rings its servant. I swear if it's another person wanting to jerk me around, I will bite off their head. Reluctantly, I pull the phone to my ear.

"Good afternoon, thank you for calling Vexit. This is Nastia. How may I help you?" The other end yaks off my ear. Another unsatisfied customer, what else is new? The nuance of each complaint is somewhat refreshing. I tell her as calmly as my boiling interior allows that I am transferring her call to the technicians who actually build Roboxit 80. People don't get that all we are, are simple paper filers for the bigwigs. Well, the ones actually working are filing. The others are just lazy, moving slothfully throughout the monotonous workday.

My eyes find the clock again, my jaw drops, my eyebrows jump up with delight. 'Finally!' Leaping out of the swivel seat, I grab my beige suit jacket and race to the teleportation pads. As I wait for my turn, I don't let the light bumps and jostles upset me. No one will take this joy from me. My eight hours of being surrounded by awful indolence is spent! 'Hallelujah!'

As I get to the pay station, I slide my hand into the depths of my purse. 'Where is it?' Glares cast from behind me. 'No, no, no! Please don't do this to me!' Stepping to the side bench, the person behind me darts to the machine as I dump out the contents. 'Why God!' I want to cry and breakdown, but at the same time, I don't think I could handle the gossip that would shroud the rest of my days here.

I comb through each item, validating their purpose, yet the card is still absent. Slinking to the floor, I begin doing the thing I warned myself not to do. My only relief is no one's here to witness.

"Miss?" A voice calls from above. Lifting my crown, I swipe the back of my hand across my runny Rudolph nose, honestly not caring what he thinks. His eyes stare at me with a flicker of compassion.

"What do you want?" I bite coldly as I furiously pat my sweating eyes.

"Here." An aureate box appears in his hands, or maybe it was already there in the beginning.

I eye him suspiciously, nonetheless. For all I know, it's a bomb.

"It's not an explosive, I promise you that."

My eyes narrow incredulously. 'How the heck? Well, unless he's a good guesser?' 

"No, I'm not a 'good guesser' either as you say, think."

Swallowing, I stand up. 'This better be a joke.'

"It's not a joke," affirms he.

Whatever freaky magic this is, I don't want it. For Christ's sake, I don't need any more issues!

"You don't have to be scared of me. I'm here to help."

I still back away, adamant that whatever 'help' he's offering isn't necessary.

He steps closer.

"Stay away from me," I snap, clearly not in the mood to be toyed with.

"Okay. Look, I just want to help, but you need to trust me."

"Trust you! You're a stranger! Why the hell should I trust someone I don't even know?" I'm almost screaming.

"Hey, calm down."

"Don't tell me to-"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I won't."

I huff and cross my arms over my chest, still fuming.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I'm new at this-"

I raise an eyebrow. "New at what?"

"Well, I'm your uh, hm. How to explain this." He pauses for a beat. "Well, I'm like Cinderella's Fairy Godmother, but I'm part of Make A Day. It's male exclusive, but ironically, it's headed by a woman."

"And?"

"Well, I'm here to make your day."

I scoff. Okay, someone seriously needs a pat on the back. I start clapping.

"I'm not kidding, and this isn't a prank pulled by your colleagues."

Stopping, I gaze into his amber eyes. They lock on mine.

"All right, Mr Bippity Boppity Boo, let's see what you've got."

Snap! I recoil, and flash my head to the left and right. My chest heaves as I frantically search for the terminal.

"Where am I?" I shout as I run up to the guy.

"Whoa there! You're the one who said 'let's see what you've got.'" His hands fly to surrender.

"Well, take me back! Right now!" A stamp follows my demand.

"Wait, I think we got off on the wrong foot, okay. Can we just start over, please?"

I stay silent.

"I'm River, your Fairy Godfather."

Now it's his turn to get the stare.

"Would you stop that? I know I have purple wings. You don't have to make a guy feel self-conscious."

"Oh, it's not that."

"My eyes?"

"Nope?"

"My height?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I thought fairies were petite?"

"Oh, those are the ones in Pixie Hollow."

"So you mean to tell me that tiny fairies bring the seasons, right?"

"No, actually, Disney embellishes. Our fairies actually come from a sycamore tree and they just help carry the pollen around with the bees."

"So they don't turn autumn into winter?"

"Nope, not at all. You see there are different types of fairies. There are the pollen fairies, which I just told you about, my type of fairy, admissions fairies, sheriff fairies, robo-fairies, they control the mechanics of fairy tools, and the Borrower fairies. I think that name's implied."

"They steal things from other fairies?"

"They're not called 'Thief Fairies' because they don't steal. You're quite cynical, you know?"

"Awe, that's so sweet of you. First complement of the day, thank you."

"Whatever. Anyway, they just borrow from humans, the easy targets."

"I beg your pardon?" My hands fly to my hips.

"Well, for example your office place is a gold mine! People leave stuff out all over the place, even their valuables!" He exclaims animatedly. "Geez, you would think that since it's the twenty-first century, people would use locks."

"It's not the twenty-first anymore, Gramps," I retort dramatically. "We're in the twenty-fourth century. Apparently, you haven't realised, locks were banned after communist China took over two hundred years ago." I roll my eyes.

"Oh, really?"

"No, I'm lying, a herd of elephants decided to take revenge against the padlocks of Pansia."

"What?"

"Lord! It's like you were born yesterday!"

"You don't have to be mean about it."

"Get a backbone, buddy." His face droops, but I'm too moody to care at the moment. "Technically, I was born twenty-five years ago. We may be fairies, but we age the same as you."

"Whatever. We live in Pansia, and we're in the Novaincipiens Epoch. It's the evolution of Holocene Epoch, which just ended roughly a century ago."

"Uh huh." He nods, intrigued.

"You know, you never told me your name."

I stop, and we stand on the sandy lot in silence.

"Nastia, my name's Nastia."

"Nastia, Nastia," he tries my name. "May I call you Nast?"

"Call me what you want, it doesn't matter."

"Okay then, Nast. Could you at least try to work with me here?"

I nod once.

"I'm going to show you three alternate paths, and you must decide which one to enter and live the rest of your life in."

My head tilts, urging him to continue.

"But, once you choose the life you want to live, you can't change your choice. Once we preview an option and move on, you can't go back that option later on. We just see the next vision, okay?"

It takes a second for his words to settle. This just got real.

"So, you're telling me that I have the chance to change my life?"

He confirms.

"What'll happen to you when I do?"

"Well, that's it for me. You decide, and then I turn into a pollen fairy."

"Oh, do all fairies like you turn into pollen fairies?"

"Oh, no. We can choose to be guardian fairies, Borrowers, really any type except what we currently are."

"Why did you choose to be a pollen fairy?"

"Well, I wanted to stay here instead of returning to my home area. It's complicated and beside the point."

"Sorry," I say quietly. "So, I guess we should start looking?"

"Yeah. Grab hold of me, and don't fall, okay."

"I'll try." I shrug, sarcasm edging my voice.

"Let's take a seat here." We do, and I look out.

There's a woman with a little boy dancing around her heels as she tries to follow the instructions to a cooking book. None of the amazing technologies of today exists in her kitchen, though. Not even the automatic measurer.

"Harrison, please," her tone sounds exhausted.

"Sorry, mum."

"What's going on?" I whisper to River as we continue to survey the scene.

"That is you as if you were living before the communists took rule."

"I have a child?"

River nods.

"And a husband?"

He shrugs. "I don't know, these previews don't allow for anything more than a glimpse."

"Of course."

"So, what do you want to do? Stay or go?"

I ponder, long and hard. "...Go."

With a snap, that world vanishes.

The next world is of a little girl in clad in more modern-day overalls and spring sneakers. Her hair is tied back in a long plait as she skips across imaginary tiles.

"Who is she?"

"That's you."

"Me?"

"Yes. This is your future if you continue living as you are now."

"What do you mean? I'm a little girl?"

"Excuse me?" His neck slides back.

"That girl, that's who I'll turn into?"

"No, you're the woman standing in the door frame." River guides my chin to the blonde mother holding another child in her arms. It's a young lad with curls as thick as a newfypoo.

A man steps into view.

My eyes widen in shock. "It's-It's you!" I gasp.

"What? No, that can't be. I'm a fairy. Humans and fairies can't marry or have children together."

"Well, he certainly looks like you!"

"That doesn't make sense!"

"River, what should I do?"

"I uh, I'm not sure. Just go with your gut."

"My gut wants me to live this one, but I don't even know if you're that guy. What if it's not?"

"I don't know. I wish I could answer you, but I truly don't know."

"River, is there a way I can talk to out of being a pollen fairy?"

"I'm afraid once I chose what I wanted to be, I can't go back."

"So, I might never see you again?"

"I don't know if our paths will ever cross again."

"I hope it does."

"I as well. So have you made a decision?"

"Yes, I'm going with my gut. I want to live this life."

"I can't transport you to right there and then because you must age and mature to that point. Doing so would throw off the balance anyway."

"Okay. Another ten years in that office, I'll do it even though I don't want to."

"But, that's all the fun in growing up. It's moving forward, looking forward to what lies ahead."

Dink, dink, dink.

"It looks like this realm is going to close very soon, so we best get you situated."

"Of course. I know I've known you less than a day, but I'm going to miss you, River."

"I'll miss you too, Nast. But, just think. You'll get what you've always wanted, right?"

"I suppose," I can't believe my heart is crumbling. I feel hot tears pooling in my lashes.

He brings me back to the empty terminal "Goodbye, Nast."

"Bye, River." With a wink, he disappears like a magician's assistant, but I know that he'll be gone longer than three seconds. My eyes scan over to the bench where my belongings lay untouched. That gold box is resting there, perched beside my bag. Striding to the mystery gift, I slowly unwrap the box's ribbon. The flaps droop as I dig my hand inside, the previous fear of an incendiary is lost. My fingers graze something smooth. Picking it out, it's my ID terminal card with a note on a post-it.

"'Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.' ~Sir Terry Pratchett

We'll see each other again, really soon."

- River

My brows furrow in confusion.

Ding! The teleportation pad beeps. The door opens and out walks a gentleman. The man's head turns as he flashes a smile.

"River," I whisper.