Page 65 of The Wish

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Ian hisses.

‘There’s no filming. No hospital visit. Get them out.’

‘I don’t care if you haven’t finished the wish—’

‘There is no wish. I can’t do it.’

Ian waves a hand dismissively. ‘Doesn’t matter. I want footage of the girl. You. A thank you moment. A nice slow pan to the TriOptics logo. You might want to wash your face first – you look like hell.’

‘She’s not there anymore,’ Alex says, voice flat. ‘She’s gone home. The treatment failed. She’s spending her last weeks in peace and privacy. I tried, Ian. But we’re not disturbing her now – not with a camera crew.’

Ian’s face flushes red. ‘All you had to do was build a simple game for a dying kid. I thought you had it in you.’

‘Her name is Jesse. And it’s not a game. It’s . . .’ He falters. ‘It’s something more.’

They push through the office door. The film crew is already packing up. Ian tries to salvage things, offering an interview, suggesting theymightstill get access. But it’s clear the crew heard everything. This is a no-go. They bail.

‘Alex! You’re fired!’ Ian shouts after they’ve left.

‘No, I’m not.’

‘You are! You’ve wasted weeks of company time moping around that hospital – what do you even have to show for it? Fuck all.’

Alex’s voice stays calm. ‘Only Frank can fire me.’

For once, Ian has no comeback, just a red face and shaking fists. ‘Get out of my sight!’

Alex watches him storm off, then returns to his cubicle. One by one, colleagues approach – quiet handshakes, pats on the back. A hug. Steve is waiting.

‘You OK, mate?’

‘I . . . don’t know.’

‘We heard everything. So, Jesse’s gone home. That means she’s better?’

‘No. It means the opposite.’ Alex slumps into his chair. ‘Shit, Steve. I’m supposed to be at her house right now.’

‘Then go,’ Steve says. ‘Forget Ian. What’s stopping you?’

‘There’s too much I don’t know. Too much I can’t fix.’

Steve gestures to the screens. ‘How much can you access from here?’

‘All of it. I’ve linked the home system.’

‘Then boot it up. Let’s see what we’ve got.’

Alex does. Videos, music, drawings – all flicker to life across his monitors. Sarah wanders over, eyes on the visuals.

‘Slow down. What exactly are you trying to do?’

‘I’ve been wrestling with this all week,’ Alex says. ‘The animations keep going out of sync. The conversations start OK, but after a minute they’re all talking to the walls.’

Sarah studies the screens. ‘What version of the cinematic manager are you using?’

‘Version 4. The only one Frank lets me use.’

She winces. ‘That was just a maze of bugs.’