One Priceless Thing

“God, is that you?”

Stanley knew it wasn’t. God called on the phone or spoke directly into Stanley’s head. Half a second of precious time was spent glancing at the tinfoil skullcap he had set aside, not too far, at the advice of his psychiatrist.

Stanley wasn’t sure he liked the shrink. The doctor said good things happened. The doctor said there were no government agencies trying to get into Stanley’s brain. The doctor also said porn addiction was nothing to worry about so long as Stanley could function in society and didn’t chafe.

Stanley was not sure how much of it he believed but he was willing to try. For the first time in months he had logged in to surf the free sites. Expected ads appeared. Then came the odd one offering three million dollars if Stanley clicked the innocent looking link that probably led to a virus. Stanley asked if it was God because then the lights went out.

Looking out the window Stanley saw it was not just his lights. The entire neighborhood, at least, was dark. A timer counted down on his computer. That was most annoying because it was blocking the really good bits of his favorite starlet getting it on with some guy who didn’t matter. Worse, there was no button to close the advertisement.

God did not answer.

So Stanley started to type instead. He was, thankfully, a fast typist.

Who is this? Are you one of the feds?

Yes, but you have nothing to fear. The money is a gift for being a good citizen. His query had not shown on the screen, but the answer did.

What’s the catch? I am not a good citizen.

No catch, tax free. Like your doc says, good things happen.

There is only one thing that comes without a price. What’s the cost? Stanley was getting nervous. He should have unplugged the computer already. Though, an agency that could kill the power to everything but his computer could also probably trace him by microwaves.

Click the goddamn link Stanley, or we are going to kill you!!!

Stanley clicked but he still didn’t like it. This had to be a plot. Some of the feds were like vampires. They needed permission to enter your home. What he liked even less was the response that floated on the screen when he did it.

Prize accepted. Wait where you are for personal delivery.

Stanley worked fast. When the black suited thug stepped through his door Stanley’s hand was covered in blood and glass littered the floor around him. He was also wearing his cap so the agent couldn’t predict him.

“Only one thing in this life comes at no cost.”

Stanley grinned as he reached inside the monitor and gripped bare wires. His body jolted, his tiny apartment filled with the smell of roasting pork. The agent dropped the large briefcase and screamed, no, as he rushed towards the deluded man claiming his one priceless prize.

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