“No,” she said, arms folded, adamant. “This is not something we can just destroy.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “But it’s dangerous,” he protested. “This thing, it can create anything from nothing! It can fabricate weapons out of thin air, it can-”
“It can be used as much for good as it can for evil,” she said, cutting him off firmly. “Think about the possibilities.”
“I have,” he said. “That’s why I can’t let you do this.”
She sat down behind her desk and looked up at him with one raised eyebrow. “Oh really? What exactly do you plan to do about it?”
He took a revolver out of his pocket and pointed it at her. “I’m really sorry, Angela. But if you won’t destroy it, then I’ll just have to destroy you first.”
She shook her head slightly and picked up a silver pen that was lying on her desk. “In that case I suppose you have me at your mercy,” she said. “I’ll have to sign the termination order after all.”
She pointed the pen at him and clicked it.
“Or, alternatively, since I already had it make this handy-dandy pen for me, I can simply tell you to put the gun down and forget we ever had this conversation. Forget that you ever heard about the Fabricator, or its peculiar properties. Go back to your quarters, go to bed, and wake up with a hangover.”
Mechanically, he placed the gun on her desk, turned around and walked out of her office.
From the corner of the room, her aide looked over at her with a smile on his face.
“Nicely handled, Director,” he said. “But was the hangover necessary?”
© Kari Fay