So to start on the “no weaseling out of writing prompts you’re not interested in” list, here’s prompt #1: In a futuristic mega city, a teenager discovers they have magic powers and gets recruited into a secret academy that trains mages to operate alongside the high-tech police force.
Would I have written this without this prompt? Maybe. Probably not. Touching on police is difficult topic. On the one hand, having people dedicated to helping others live their lives safely feels like an important part of being able to live in a society that doesn’t exist solely of strong preying on the weak. On the other hand, if you give them too much power, then they become the strong who use that strength to prey on the weak, using legitimacy as a shield and cloak.
Then we’ve got “futuristic mega city” which lends itself to cyberpunk which, as a genre, exists on the basis of “the strong prey on the weak” and focuses on the people on the edge; not the ones in power, not the masses struggling under them, but the people dancing around the seams of that conflict and taking what they can get.
Cyberpunk is an interesting genre, sure, and I enjoy some of the things set therein; movies, books, games, etc. But it’s not a future I want to see actually happen. Our current state of the world is bad enough. And I’d rather write a future that I’d enjoy living in. Or has more uplifting horizons in its own future. So. What do we do with this? Go cyberpunk and go dark? Or go solar/hopepunk?
We shall see.
Sparks to Flame
Spark let a small grin lift the corner of their mouth as they walked out of the casino and into the rainy street beyond. Drops pelted their hair, slicking the turquoise locks over the right side of their head and face. Neon-bright signs pierced through the damp in every direction, loudly advertising their wares within. Those signs were the only bright things on this street; the rest of the street was dirty, grimy, rain-splattered, full of trash and downcast people. Well, the only bright thing except the cheerful glow in Spark’s chest. They’d won. It wasn’t really a contest, not with Spark’s talent, but it was a win.
Spark kept their hand clenched tight around the credit chip in one of their pockets. It represented over a year’s wages at the Olsen plant. More than that, after you deducted food, rent, material fees, fines, and all the other ways the plant found to whittle your earnings back down. It was enough to leave. And with what had happened between Spark and Tania last month, there was nothing keeping them here. They were going to go now, at last.
The magic crackled within Spark’s chest. It had warned them that coming to the casino today was risky, but the payout was worth it. But now, it warned that someone was interested in them. Down the street. And up the street. Did someone know about it? Had the casino come to take the money back? The buildings on the left side were barred tight, but an alley gaped on the right side. Spark started towards it when the magic leapt again. No, that wasn’t an option. But nowhere else was either. One empty building stood with a window shattered out. Spark couldn’t tell if that was a good option with the way the magic was flaring but at least, inside, there would be choices available. More so than out on this open street.
Spark ducked inside the window, heavy boots allowing them to ignore the shards of glass on the floor. They took stock inside, rain dripping from their hair and long jacket. It looked like this had been a tenement building, raided at some point to be razed for a shop, according to the old torn notice on the floor. The sense of danger and someone hunting them pounded inside of Spark’s heart, the magic giving out warnings. But there was nothing specific until Spark could find somewhere quiet to meditate on the warnings at least a little. Well, there had to be an out-of-the-way spot here. Unless the threat was close. Closer than it felt right now. Taking some time now might save them later, Spark decided, and ventured further in. There was a room here with a window in the back and another door to a hallway beyond, plus a closet that wasn’t visible from the door. That’d do for now. Spark ducked into the closet and pulled it mostly closed. When the light was down to just a shimmer, they sat and closed their eyes, reaching to the swirling spark of magic in their chest.
Images bloomed in Spark’s mind. Several people, walking along the street in the rain apparently casually. Some people loitering in the alley they’d looked at. Nothing visually linking the people but the magic appeared to think they were together. Some people landing on the roof. Of this building. Then they knew Spark was here and it was time to go.
Spark leaped up and ran as quietly as they could toward the back door of the room they were in. They opened it up–
And were met by two large people in fight suits. Behind them, a woman in colorful robes dropped her hands, gasping. “Good, I was about spent,” she said. From the door Spark had entered, two more people entered, a man and a woman, both wearing jackets that looked bulked with either muscles or some sort of body armor underneath. Someone else entered; their pale face, chin-length wavy hair, and soft gray clothes gave no hint to gender. They smiled and tipped a finger to their forehead in a gesture of acknowledgement.
“Spark Kysis,” they said, voice soft and gentle. “Glad to finally meet you.”
Spark kept one hand on the credit chip but the other strayed to the stun spray on their belt. “I don’t see why I’m anyone to interest you, whoever you are,” Spark lied. “Can I just leave or are we going to make this unpleasant?”
“I don’t see why those have to be the only two options,” the person responded. “I’m Wen, by the way.” Wen extended a hand. Spark made no move towards them. “Very well, more introductions. This is Kyle, Sammi, N’tena, and Clay,” they said, pointing at the people who looked like enforcers. “And behind you is Melisse, who has something in common with you. More than one thing, I’d say.”
Melisse, the woman in bright colors, waved. “Hi, Spark. You may not remember me but I used to work at the Olsen plant too.”
“Used to?” Spark asked, then reconsidered. That was starting a conversation, which implied interest in what these people wanted to say, and mostly Spark just wanted out. Out of this room, out of this street, out of this city, out as far as they could get with the winnings from today.
“Used to,” Melisse said firmly. “Then I met Wen, in a situation rather like this one honestly. Since then, things have been looking up. Listen to what he wants, at least, and then you can leave if you want. Or go with us, if you prefer.”
“I’d rather leave. Now, if I can. I’ve got stuff to do.” Spark tightened their grip on the stun spray and started pulling it out.
“Like packing?” Wen asked. “Were you planning on turning in a resignation or just leaving? They probably wouldn’t bother to hunt you down unless you owe them, and I think you’ve been too careful to owe them. On the other hand, if Tania wanted to, she could help them find you.”
At the mention of Tania’s name, Spark growled. “I don’t know what I’ve done to offend you, but if you’re with Tania, I’ll thank you to get out of my presence and never speak to me again.”
“No, no, hardly.” Wen found a chair leaning against one wall. They tested it and then sat down. “We’re with the Cleaners.”
“The what?” Spark had never heard of such an organization before. And with the clear capital C on that word, he guessed they weren’t some street cleaning crew. Besides, if they were– “Well, judging by outside, you’re doing a terrible job of it.”
“We’re pretty new,” Melisse piped up.
“Not so much, but we’re newly invigorated,” Wen said with a shrug. “There’s been renewed interest in the past year or so in making this city– well, starting with the city, at least– a more… comfortable place for everyone in it, not just for the few dozen who think they own it.”
Spark narrowed their eyes at Wen. “Interest by who, and how?”
“Interest by someone with the power to back it up,” Wen said, a predatory smile on their face. “Interest in gathering some people who would be able to make a difference. For example, interest in getting members who can see incoming threats,” they waved at Spark; “those who can delay the powers of magic,” they nodded at Melisse, “and those who can bind someone to a verbal contract.” At that, they raised their hands as though they were a magician who’d just done a trick. Which, if Spark was hearing right, they might be.
“What’s that supposed to mean? And what did you do to me?” Spark asked, looking at Melisse.
“Oh, I don’t have a lot of magic,” she said, blushing and demurring with her hands. “But I can make it so other people’s magic is kind of… like, the power acts late?”
“So that I might not get warnings on time,” Spark said, glaring at her.
“Indeed,” Wen answered for her. “It took us a few months to figure out how to get you in a scenario like this, and it still wouldn’t have happened if Melisse hadn’t helped us. Please forgive her, all we want is to talk to you.”
“Why?” Spark was angry now, but couldn’t shake an amount of interest. Well, not interest per se, more just curiosity. They weren’t moving to block the doors more or trap them further, so maybe a conversation would relax their guard, allow Spark to make a move. Maybe for the window, which seemed unnoticed.
“Because think of all we could do with a power like yours on our side! Think of how we could organize if we could see threats or opportunities coming!” Wen’s pale face tinged pink with excitement as they leaned forward, eager.
“I don’t think I can picture it if I don’t know what your goal is.”
“Cleaning up, as I said,” Wen replied with a casual wave. “Finding the people who are leaning on the city, crushing it, keeping everyone’s faces in the dirt, and… relieving the pressure.”
“Like the Olsens,” Melisse said. “We visited their mansion last night. We only found one of the twins but we got him to agree to getting rid of the material fees at the plants. All of them.”
“You what? I didn’t hear about that,” Spark said.
“Well, you weren’t at work today, were you?” Wen replied casually.
“But what’s going to make him stick to that? If you came on him like you did me, I wouldn’t be surprised if he just said it to get you to leave him alone. I’m mostly impressed you got out alive!”
“That’s the beauty of it,” Wen replied, a gleam in their eye and a mirthless smile on their lips. “Once they’ve made the agreement, when I’ve witnessed and bound it, they can’t go back on their word. Not without racking pain, or thirst, or hunger, or a stream of endless bad luck. That’s what the Cleaners do. We clean up the corruption and pain plaguing this city, the nonsense that’s choking the workers and smothering the people. And we would love for you to be part of it.”
“Just to get this straight,” Spark said, crossing their arms and taking a step back, “you just told me all the things you can do to someone if they go back on their word to you and you’re asking me to join you now?”
“No word necessary right now,” Wen said. “No promise, no guarantee. In fact, here.” Wen stood, placing a hand on their heart. “I, Wen Sparrow, give my word and bond that I will not tie Spark Kysis to any cause or agreement to which they are not interested or which will cause them distress, until after they have investigated the Cleaners to their satisfaction and given their word voluntarily.” A flash of light illuminated Wen’s silhouette and Spark could feel through the magic in their own chest as the oath took hold. “Are you satisfied? Are you willing to give us a chance?”
Spark looked around at the six people in the room with them. As they investigated the enforcers, silent though they’d been this whole time, Spark noticed something in their faces. Determination, not anger. Pride, not contempt. Hope, not despair. They looked out the window at the rain pounding down, the gray city, the huddled shape of someone trapped in the alley.
“May I have a moment?” Spark asked.
“Of course,” Wen said. “If you’ll all follow me?” They waved the rest of the organization into the hallway. “We await your decision with eagerness.”
Spark nodded, sitting on the floor with their legs crossed, hands face up in their lap, and concentrated on the magic. It didn’t take long for the impressions to come. If they went with Wen, there would be pain. There would be sorrow and agony and hard-fought days that wrung their soul dry. But behind it all, like the sun rising behind the clouds, a dawn of hope. That warmth swept through Spark’s body, warming them from head to feet. That was a good enough answer for them.
“Hold on, Wen,” they said. The door had barely closed before Wen opened it again. “I’m coming, wait for me.”
Intellectual Property of Elizabeth Doman
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