I never trusted it. It seemed ridiculous, a machine that could predict my future child's net worth? It sounded like one of those dodgy websites that predicted when you would die, which were, to say the least, complete and utter nonsense. But maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was my husband's constant pleading, but when my son was born, i opted to have that machine predict my baby's net worth.
Of course the testing was optional. Too many parents complaining that their 'precious babies' would amount to basically nothing was too much for their minds to handle, and instead of approaching this as a challenge, and defying what the prediction said at all costs, they chose the easy way out and took to complaining or sueing the machine creators. Sueing them...for what? I hadn't the faintest clue and I don't believe they did either.
But against my better judgement, I went forth with my decision, intending to either make a joke out of it, or use it as motivation. Things, however, didn't go quite as I planned.
I never forgot the look on my doctor's face when he returned, holding the child like he was a precious, delicate piece of china that would shatter to a million fragments upon hitting the floor. He gazed up at me, eyes glassy almost as though he didn't believe that he was quite awake, and perhaps this is a dream of some sort.
"one-one trillion dollars!" He managed to splutter through shaking lips, " He-he's worth ONE TRILLION DOLLARS!!", yelling the last part for emphasis, as though it did not register the first time. I sat up straight and glanced at my husband, who was grinning like an insane clown.
"I told you this would be worth it! Imagine, one trillion dollars! Our child is now the most expensive child in the world!" He cackled madly, grabbing the child and swinging him around the room, the baby giggling, enjoying the game. I, however, was not buying it. I requested a second test, then a third, certain that the machine was faulty but was met with the same result, to the smug satisfaction of my partner. While a small part of me wanted to enjoy this 'gift' and 'miracle' (as newspapers were calling it), we were merely ordinary people, and ordinary people did not do extraordinary things, like become worth a million dollars. But I, like everyone around my son, did my best to ease him on his path to riches beyond his wildest dreams. The whole world held its breath, as he began his journey to adulthood.
Thomas was a rather unintelligent child, to the surprise of all of us. It wasn't even the silly things that kids would do like eat play-doh because it looked colorful and delicious (which he did, at age 10)He would regularly get his head stuck in banisters (evEn at the age of 15, when the banisters were removed and a single rail was installed, which he promptly got his hand stuck on) , lock the door and panic as he forgot how to unlock it (I was called in from work and had to unlock him from the janitors closet, though he wold not answer what he was doing there), constantly brought home average passing grades, and had no passions and hobbies beyond watching children's television programs and riding his bicycle. The worlds most extraordinary child had grown to be the most un-ordinary teenager.
Suffice to say, it seemed my prediction that Thomas was merely a glitch in the system was appearing to be closer and closer to the truth, in spite of my husband paying countless tutors and mentors, to help develop Tommy's interest in a variety of subjects. That all changed when we were invited to Ricky Glyson's rooftop party.
Ricky Glyson was the richest man in the country, with his predicted net worth being over one hundred billion and had, by now greatly exceeded that amount. It seemed that he took an interest in my son's net worth as he had never heard of someone having more than him and invited us to his rooftop party to meet the boy. We were curious to see his 'exclusive' home so we agreed, despite Thomas not exactly matching up to his net worth. We were instructed to stand near the helicopter pad so Ricky could see us as he stepped off his helicopter. I predicted it would be a disappointing meeting for all. What I didn't predict, was my son's lack of common sense.
Thomas's bow tie flew off as the wind from the helicopter blew our hair into a frenzy (a waste of a hundred dollar hairdo) and ran directly under the pad to catch it, resulting on the helicopter landing on him.
He was fine, just a few broken ribs, a broken leg and a mild concussion, but the internet blew up. Some insinuated that it was a hate crime, as Ricky was jealous that a mere child was worth more than him, and others question how careless he was to not have safety precautions on his helicopter pad, and monstrous articles claimed that he was a 'child killer' though he was none of the sort. This resulted in many people refused to watch his movies (He was a famous actor/director and a model for various magazines) resulting in him failing to top the box office, losing his money as well as his dignity.
I was unaware of most of this as I was mainly focused on my son, though I heard snippets of it from among the nurses, though i didn't realize it had blown up as it did till later onA few days later, as I was watching a show with Tommy, a man in a black suit marched towards us and handed us an envelope, while saying "Mr Glyson is prepared to offer you this amount in order to issue a public statement that the helicopter incident was your son's fault and that there was nothing else that could have been done." I opened the envelope, and read the contents:
THIS CHECK CONTAINS A SUM OF ONE TRILLION DOLLARS TO GO TO THOMAS ELIZABETH GREENBERG SIGNED RICHARD DEREK GLYSON.
This turned out longer than I thought! As always, comments and constructive criticism is always welcome!