The Keys to the Yellow Kingdom by Matthew Sanborn Smith
Carlos had lost count of the steps somewhere after one hundred and seventeen. Now that he'd arrived in front of the Wonderbox, he forgot about the climb altogether. The thick jungle winds of Quintana Roo blew across the treetops and through this little temple atop the pyramid, too humid to dry his sweat. He sank to his knees, not once taking his eyes off of the miracle machine lest it disappear. An odd little thing, seven-sided, asymmetrical, shining and brown like fresh dung out in the sun. Its corners looked sharp enough to cut a man. A blood sacrifice, then? His imagination darted in a million directions at once. One of those directions couldn't help but wonder why nobody just grabbed the thing and ran off with it.
"Make me a writer," he said, hunched low, his lips nearly touching it. "I want to be a writer more than anything else in the world. I want to be famous and have all the money I need to help my family."
"Doesn't work like that," said an old, black man who appeared from behind a Doric column about twenty feet away.
Carlos jumped to his feet, prepared to defend, he wasn't sure what: his only chance at a life of ... his only chance at a life!
The man had been approaching but stopped short. No one was supposed to be here, at least that's what Carlos thought. What else could he want, but to get his own chance with the box, maybe by duping Carlos or even killing him to take his turn?
"Easy there, son," the stranger said. "I'm three times your age at my best. Parts of me might be older. I can help you with that if you like."
"What do you want?" Carlos asked. What could he want? This man had money. His shirt was so white that it glowed and it must have been climate controlled as well; he hadn't even broken a sweat.
"Relax, Carlos."
"How do you know my name?"
"The man who sent you up, Mike, he teleed me. You had to give your name at some point in order to get in line, Carlos."
Carlos laughed, feeling spectacularly stupid. The old man laughed a little too.
"Not a lot like you that make it up here," the man said. "You must want it pretty badly. What did you have to give? Next in line is an old rich woman. You seem to be in pretty good shape. Sex maybe?"
"Not just that." Carlos spoke from tightened lips. "A year. What business is it of yours anyway?"
The old man threw up his hands.
"It's a person's passion I'm interested in. Most of what we get here are the spoiled rich who can already have anything they want. It's just a novelty to them. They go away happy, something to tell their friends."
"Who are you?" Carlos asked.
"I'm the man behind the curtain, Savon Kelly. I invented the Wonderbox." Kelly offered his hand, but Carlos didn't move forward to take it.
"You live up here?" Carlos asked.
"No, no," Kelly said, laughing. "There's not even a reclaimer up here, never mind food or water. I should probably have one put in, to tell you the truth. It's a long way down if you've got to hold it. No, my offices are down below. I just take the lift up now and then to help out."
"Wait a minute, there's a lift and you make people walk up all those steps? I mean, I'm young and strong, but the woman behind me, Darby, she's eighty-three!"
"Eighty-three! Good God, man, you did want it badly!"
"Get off of that! There are elderly people! There are the disabled!"
Almost on cue, a pair of artificial hind legs swung out silently behind Kelly and seemed to be fulfilling their only purpose, holding him up as he leaned back.
"It's theater, Carlos. It's all theater. My little box there is the wonder of the ages. You don't stick something like that in a booth on a street corner. People expect some work. A little climb. We get a major whiner now and then, we'll give him a ride up. The old and the bent ones that make it on their own, those are the serious ones, even if they use it for stupid things." He shook his head, maybe waiting for Carlos to smile along with him.
"Stupid like what?" Carlos asked.
"One man used it to gain a lifetime supply of beer. One woman asked for someone to love her. Another man used it to get his dog into the best obedience school."
"Why is it stupid for a woman to ask for someone to love her?" Carlos asked. The request didn't sound stupid to him. A heart's desire. Wasn't that why he himself came here?
"Because she didn't need this box to do that for her," Kelly said. "That was already within her reach before she got here. There were people all around her that not only would love her, but did love her. Look at you. If you want to be a writer, go ahead and write, you don't need this box. Here, let me give you something."
His hind legs folded back in against him. They reminded Carlos of a paraplegic's exoskeleton. Kelly bounded to the box and fell to one knee. He put his hand on the seven-sided box just long enough to blink. He reached behind it and pulled out an odd yellow pad with a pencil clipped to it. Kelly handed it to Carlos.
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