Plunking the gold coin into the soda machine’s slot, I loved the thunk deep inside as the currency hit bottom within its bowels. Then came the satisfying mechanized whir as I imagined a robot arm knock a soda can loose. WHOMP! The can slammed into the pick up tray at knee height. Unless you’re Trevor.

“Did you not even notice?” Proctor said to me, pointing at the machine.

And, I hadn’t. He was right.

The front of the machine had changed. There were no longer a series of buttons where you’d choose your flavor of soda. Instead, the machine had one button. One generic, ‘Boop Soda’, button. In my haste, I’d dropped in my coin, hit the button without thought or even a glance, and watched the collection tray with lusty anticipation.

Point is, you didn’t know as a Boop Soda consumer, what flavor you were getting. I couldn’t even remember the list of flavors I’d seen before.

The wet can chilled my hand, and the weather being as cold as it was, my hands were already chilly. It had a creamy off white color. Vanilla?

“What’s it say?” Proctor asked.

I read the can with a squint to see the flavor’s name written in an annoying cursive font.

“Water… Chestnut… Obliteration?” I said. “What the?”

Proctor held his teeth together. The international symbol of cringe.

“Sounds… delicious,” he said, clearly unconvinced.

“Water chestnut? Really?” I said, cracking the can open. “I hate water chestnuts. They expect me to drink this?”

Apparently, ‘they’ did. The five minute countdown I’d seen the last time I purchased a can showed up in my vision again.

“Oh, I’m seeing the countdown again.”

Everyone not myself or Proctor stared at us with what was becoming a customary gaze of pure, confused fascination. We were still aliens to them.

“I don’t remember this flavor from the list we’d seen before,” I said. “Do you?”

“No,” replied Proctor. “It’s new, I believe.”

“They can do that?”

“Does this come as a surprise?” Proctor said.

He made a good point.

I expelled a disgruntled groan.

“Are you unhappy?” Trevor asked.

“I’m okay,” I said. “I just am not looking forward to drinking this.”

The countdown in front of my face reached four minutes remaining.

“I like water chestnut,” Trevor said.

I held the can upward, with a questioning look toward Proctor.

“Not a good idea,” Proctor said.

“The soda won’t work if it isn’t me drinking it?” I said.

“I’m not certain we ought to take the risk,” Proctor said. “Worst case scenario, it does nothing for anyone else, and you’re out a gold coin. If it gives you something useful, or rather, it’s useful magic, you want to make the most of whatever gold we have, and not waste it on anyone incapable of wielding what it does.”

“There’s a trick in there?” Trevor said.

“Sort of.”

I supposed, I hadn’t explained explicitly to the others the rainfall we’d experienced the last time we were out here at the machine was from the soda.

The countdown reached three minutes left.

“Fascinating,” Trevor said. “That thing holds a brew then? A witch’s brew.”

It caused me to smile. “An interesting way to put it,” I said.

“Makes you a witch,” Trevor said. “Or a warlock.”

I could see Kestrel and Denton shift uncomfortably back and forth, one foot to another, regarding me anew with distrust in their eyes. At least, so was my perception.

The countdown neared two minutes.

“Go on, fool,” Dillard said. “Take a drink will ya?”

Taking a whiff of the can did me no favors. Yuck. It brought back a long buried memory of eating water chestnut at Thanksgiving back in the ‘90s. Probably 1995 if you had to nail me down to a particular year for that memory. And, I’ve consciously gone out of my way to avoid the terrible vegetable ever since.

Wait, vegetable? Are they a vegetable? I couldn’t remember. All I’ve ever thought about the ghastly things is they were invented by culinary sadists.

With a minute and a half left on the countdown, I took a sip, and the sip nearly came right back out of me.

I coughed, and doubled over. I nearly fell off my feet.

“Ack, uck. Oh my… I can’t,” I growled.

“That bad, huh?” Proctor said.

“Bad?” I said. “Charley horses are bad. This… is a war crime.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The countdown said thirty seconds to go.

The others appeared to lose interest, even though you’d think they’d be entertained at my absolute disgust with the mystery drink. Trevor had a long spruce log he’d been using to strip the area we’d marked out as land we’d scrape clean, and flatten, and where we’d plant grass for the ball park.

“Take one more drink,” Proctor urged. “Before the counter ends. You never know what its magic might do for you. Could prove useful.”

“Easy for you to say.”

The timer reached eight seconds remaining.

I groaned dramatically, and slammed back another sip. Since I’d braced for the garbage water taste of it, I’d accepted it a bit better the second time around.

The countdown ended, and Proctor and I stood there in front of the soda machine waiting for something, anything to happen.

The rest of the group milled around on the few square meters of Trevor’s freshly scraped mud.

“Whenever you two’s done with your parlor game,” Kestrel said, calling over to us, “come over and help.”

Proctor and I glared at each other as though we were waiting for a xenomorph to explode out of my chest.

But, nothing.

As soon as I took a step away from the machine, however, bold text slammed me in the face.

[WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!

You have consumed a flavor of Boop Soda. Prepare for an effect.

You have consumed two sips.

Be cautious about what you touch.

PLEASE NOTE: Boop Soda, Such Burger, Boop Confectionery assumes no liability for said effects, and the above should not be construed as legal advice.]

“How comforting,” I said. I read the text aloud to Proctor.

“Here we go,” Proctor said.

“What should I do?” I said.

“You’ve caught me at a loss, I’m afraid,” Proctor said.

We walked over to join the rest of the group on the freshly scraped ground. It was cold, black mud beneath our feet. And, Trevor, Dillard, Kestrel, and Denton huddled in close proximity using flat stones to manually make the small, three meter by three meter area as flat as possible.

The idea struck me to touch the scraped area. I visualized the small area as an already beautifully manicured spot of ball park worthy green grass. Wouldn’t that be something. I don’t why I thought that’s what the magic of this particular Boop Soda flavor would do, but it’s the thought that came to me.

“Clear out for a second, guys,” I said to everyone.

I could see they were a bit put out. They hadn’t really understood or bought into whatever that weird machine object thing was all about, so I know I looked like a wacko to them as I squatted over the newly cleared ground, but with the idealized image I had in my mind, I had to try.

With one arm resting on my knee, I reached down to the mud with a bare hand.

BAM!

What can you say to describe being struck by lightning? A blue flash followed by a two second blackout? Does that suffice?

That’s what happened. A gunshot sound ripped the sky. The flash came. I exploded backward ten feet, and landed on my backside. Everyone else flew back too.

But, it was benign lightning. That’s a thing? Guess so. Because none of us were hurt. Well, other than my ringing ears.

Dillard was laughing. Kestrel and Denton appeared bewildered. Trevor just kept smiling at me like he’d just been given a puppy. Proctor picked himself up off the ground and pushed cakes of mud off of his legs in a manner as though he’d been through this before.

“Everyone alright?” I said.

Kestrel’s eyes grew large. “My oh my,” he muttered. “Look at that.”

We all stared where he pointed. Amazingly, the scraped area of land had doubled in size. No, there was no pretty green grass as I’d visualized, but I’d just doubled the group’s work in an instant. Three meters by three meters was now six by six.

Proctor’s mouth dropped open, and he smiled more broadly than I’d ever seen him smile before. His genuine excitement caused me to cheer out loud.

“Fantastic!” Trevor bellowed. “Truly fantastic!”

“How did you do that?” Kestrel said. And he went back to regarding me with wariness, and I could see him slowly back away from me. His son seemed to follow suit.

“It’s not me,” I said. “It’s that drink.”

“You’re a bloody sorcerer,” Kestrel said.

“It’s true,” Dillard said. “You’s a sorcerer. I’ve known it since ya got in.”

“I’m not a sorcerer,” I said. “It’s the soda. The brew, as Trevor calls it.”

“The implications of this are immense,” Proctor said. “All our projects…”

His voice trailed off, but I knew what he was thinking. I was super excited because it meant accomplishing so much more than I’d even conceived.

[WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!

You have consumed two sips of a Boop Soda Flavor.

You have one touch remaining.

Proceed with caution.]

I shared the text with the others.

“It will do this with each sip?” Proctor said. “Oh, this is quite a development indeed.”

I turned to Denton who was looking at me just as distrustfully as his father.

“Denton, please go and build as much stock of concrete as you can,” I said. “We just need enough to cover one thin layer spanning the perimeter of the village.”

“Perhaps not even that much,” Proctor said.

“I was thinking I could multiply the wall’s height in a hurry,” I said.

“Height, breadth, distance,” Proctor said. “All of it. For now, concentrate on creating any concrete at all. You will probably be able to take it from there.”

Denton left to try and do as asked. Luckily, he was just as interested in trying to create or recreate this new construction material as I was. Kestrel, looking for an excuse to retreat from me, left with him. I was fine with it. He’d come around.

“Think about the moat,” Proctor said.

“I know.”

“We should pay the trench diggers a visit right away,” Proctor said.

“I know.”

“Oh, the implications of this,” Proctor said.

“I know, you’ve said that,” I said.

We couldn’t help ourselves, completely drunk on the possibilities.

“What should I do now?” I said to the group.

“Again! Again!” Exclaimed Trevor, like a kid wanting another ride on the merry go round.

“Ya fools,” Dillard said, backing away. “I’m standing over here.”

“Should I try the same thing?” I said to Proctor.

“Seems a good idea, doesn’t it?”

I squatted over the enlarged scraped area, reached down, and BOOM!

I have to admit, it was fun being thrown backward like that. I probably should’ve been more afraid, I mean, how easy would it have been to land awfully and break my neck or my back or something. But, for some reason I landed with no physical damage at all.

We all laughed, and jumped around like lottery winners. Sure enough, the scraped, flattened area expanded to twelve meters by twelve meters.

“I love it,” Proctor said. “That’s my favorite flavor.”

“It’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted, I think,” I said. “But, life’s a set of trade offs, isn’t it?”

“This one’s worth it.”

“You can say that again,” I said.

Trevor snapped his fingers, and it was almost as loud as the lightning strike had been. I looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I truly do not understand your brew,” the giant said. “But, it’s the most beautiful thing.”

“Yes, my friend, I have to agree,” I said.

“No,” Trevor said. “You don’t understand.”

I frowned. He was right.

“Your name,” Trevor said. “Your team name. Now you have it.”

Proctor and I could only look at each other with a shrug.

The excited giant waved his hands with pure childish enthusiasm.

“The team,” he said. “You have your name now. Look at what’s just happened here. You have to call it, Magic.”