The Evil Genie grants three wishes a week. Leave a wish in the comments!
Mintyfresh wishes: Dear Evil Genie, can you make me the inventor of something that will change the world in a totally positive way?
The Evil Genie replies: When your water synthesizer debuts it is not entirely unlike when Norman Bourlang created a new kind of wheat that could feed the third world, or when James Watt’s steam engine kicked off the Industrial Revolution, or even, dare I say, when Zoog, a caveman I just made up, showed the first wheel to his pre-historic brethren. From that fateful day forth, things are going to be easier and better and healthier and happier and the world will be a little smaller, in a cozy, helpful, not-alone-in-the-universe, love-your-fellow-man kind of way. Your simple, affordable, eco-conscious machine does the thing that so many freshman chemistry students suggest: takes a couple of hydrogens and an oxygen, and makes them into safe, clean, crystal-clear water. But with a little genie magic, this actually works. Now, a lack of potable water is a thing of the past.
The synthesizer, which you have named the AquaDrinkabler 5500 (it’s a positive change, but your marketing team is terrible), is used to create not just drinking water, but rivers and lakes where before there were deserts and plains. In the formerly arid areas of the world, trees are blooming, delicious fish are swimming, dying children are living due to lack of lack of water. Matt Damon’s Starbucks Water company shuts right down, and happily, because there is no more need. Water, water, everywhere and all the drops to drink!
After the unveiling and initial excitement, you settle into a figurehead role at AD5500 Inc. You pal around with people from the U.N. You give demonstrations of your product, from the portable version, which is popular among hikers, deep-sea fishermen and readers of Cheryl Strayed’s WILD, to the industrial version, which is popular with developing nations, large-scale water parks, and celebrities who own their own islands. You have your face on billboards and bottles. As part of your international outreach campaign and publicity blitznanza (both a blitz and a bonanza), you fly with your large and loving family to tour some of the new bodies of water your invention has provided.
While wading in the Sahara Lake, you lose track of one of your nieces, and her body is found sunken, gored by a water buffalo and drowned. At your next locale, it is your uncle that goes missing. He turns up floating downstream in a former mirage. At the bottling plant, your brother wanders into a midsize AD5500, and is turned into an even larger percentage of water than all humans already are. He’s just eyes and a tailbone, bobbing in a puddle. Your invention, it seems, it murdering your family one by one. You break down, screaming, raving, all in front of investors, and you have to be removed from your position as face of the company. You return home, scared and haunted.
But back in the states, the horrors don’t end. Your sister tries ecstasy and drinks herself dead on your water. Your father dies in a horrific wave pool accident at Tyler Perry’s house. Your significant other develops a fatal case of Swimmer’s Ear. Now, you’re paranoid. You won’t go near water, you’re too scared. You stop swimming and canoeing, and then you stop drinking or bathing or making soups. You shrivel like a raisin, but no one can talk any sense into you. You smell terrible. You don’t have to pee anymore. After mere weeks of this hysteria, you die, painfully, of dehydration. Six months later, an overactive AquaDrinkabler 5500 malfunctions, and no one has time to build an ark.