A Little Bit of Anything

Jess had no need to fear being the first to show up to Cakesoc. Millie always filled that role, and she did it proudly. Her hands placed firmly on her hips, her dark brown hair tied up, she watched over the rest of the cooking stations like a hawk. Her nose scrunched as Robbie and Jess entered the room, as if she'd smelled them before seeing them. Millie was that type of person. She believed she was destined Cakesoc president from birth.

She ran her society like it was an army regiment. People were punctual, or they were punished. They took baking seriously, or they didn't bake at all. Or at least that would be the case in Millie's perfect world. Most showed up when they wanted to and baked purely for fun. Robbie had drawn the ire of Millie for such behaviour. She saw him as a troublemaker, when really, he was only a shite baker. He'd never been able to make anything half-decent, and so spent most of his time chatting with the others he knew.

Besides the tyrant of Cakesoc, a few others had arrived. Usual faces really, people Robbie could nod and smile at but couldn't talk to. He wasn't even sure he knew their names. Tara was there too. She'd stuffed as much hair as possible into her hat, though there was still plenty of it tumbling over her shoulders and neck. She was wearing a crop top, as usual, though she was wearing an oversized, fluffy jacket over the top so she wouldn't freeze.

That was another thing Robbie liked about Tara. She had a style, but she wasn't ridiculous about it. She wore coats in the winter and shorts in the summer, as any sane person would. She wouldn't catch a chill or boil alive just to prove a point, unlike lads Robbie had known. Those lads. Idiots who wore shorts in winter just to try and prove they were hard.

Jess gave Robbie a knowing look before planting her ingredients on the station next to Tara's. Jess and Tara shared the hellos of people who knew a lot about each other but didn't really know one another. Robbie joined Jess at the elbow, like a child unwilling to let go of his mum's skirt on the first day of school.

"Alright Rob?" Tara said.

"Oh," Jess said, elbowing Robbie with a bit too much force. "Dickhead forgot his ingredients."

"Why show up?" Tara asked bluntly.

"Jess has got spares," Robbie squeaked.

"Guess you must really like lemon drizzle."

Shit, Robbie thought as he looked down at the recipe handout.

Depending on the day, Robbie could be anything from indifferent to hating of lemon drizzle cake. Today, because it had kept him awake for longer than he'd wanted, and because just now Tara had basically told him to go home, he was no fan of lemon drizzle. Still, no backing out now.

It took an hour and a half to bake the sodding cake. Robbie worked mostly in silence. In some tired stupor, he found a focus unlike anything he'd felt before. He let the conversations behind him slip into the background. He worked as hard as he'd ever worked on something, and as he brought his lemon drizzle out of the oven, he knew it was the best in the room. Everyone flocked over, vultures to the carrion of Robbie's cake.

"Omgosh," Tara said, her eyes widening as she scooped a handful of cake into her mouth. "That's actually well delicious."

"Thanks," said Robbie.

"No seriously, like, this might be the best thing I've eaten."

"Are you taking the piss?"

"No!" Tara laughed, slapping Robbie's shoulder.

Millie stormed over, her tied hair bobbing up and down as she walked. "What's going on here guys?"

She was smiling, but it was clear the noise of people enjoying themselves was like nails on a chalkboard to her ears.

"Try some of Robbie's cake," Jess said, grabbing a spoonful of her own. "Doesn't it look gorg?"

"Are you sure you made this Rob?" Millie snorted. She loved to jibe people like that, ensure she was always top of the pecking order.

Millie took a small morsel from the lemon drizzle with a teaspoon. First, she raised the yellowish sponge to her nose. Slowly, with a deep sniff. Her huge nostrils nearly sucked up the crumb of cake.

"Jesus Mil," Tara said. "You'd think it was poisoned."

Millie ignored the joke. To her, it probably wasn't a joke. She inspected her crumb as best she could, trying to find some flaw before she had to put it in her mouth.

Quick as a flash the cake was in her mouth, disappearing entirely. She chewed for about thirty seconds. It was the over-the-top kind of chewing you see in cooking programmes, her jaw moving up and down, needlessly and repetitively.

Eventually, she swallowed the morsel, raising a quizzical eyebrow as she did so.

"Nice, yeah," Millie said. "Not bad. How'd you do it?"

"Just followed the recipe," Robbie replied.

Millie looked annoyed at that. "You don't have to keep it a secret. You're a baker, not a magician."

She paced away after that, deeply offended by Robbie's capability in the kitchen.

"Alright," Tara said, grabbing her bag and cake. "I'm off. Could I grab a couple of slices of yours Rob? Reuben would love this."

"Sure," Robbie said. Even in this, Robbie's greatest success, Reuben still found a way to weasel in.

Soon after Tara left, Robbie found an excuse to head home with what was left of his cake. By spoon, knife, or hand the others at Cakesoc had taken over half of Robbie's creation from him.

He unlocked the door to his flat, diving in as quick as he could to get out of the cold only to find his flat was as cold as outside. He threw himself into bed, shuddering as he pulled a thick quilt all the way up to his chest. Robbie grabbed his laptop, opening it up. As the screen flickered to life, Robbie was greeted by Mr. Wonder yet again. There was a warmth in Robbie's heart as he looked at the magician. He felt relaxed, eased, as if he was catching up with an old family member.

He'd left a video open. Paused, unfinished. Might as well watch the rest of it. Could even help him get some sleep.

"Hello there," Mr. Wonder said. In two short hops his face up close and personal with the camera again. His eyes looked around, first peering into Robbie's gaze, then curiously examining what was behind him, around him. Mr. Wonder seemed puzzled and pleased at once; his smile had faded though his eyes were still full of an unyielding kindness.

Mr. Wonder leaned in closer, his deep red lips encompassing the entirety of Robbie's screen. "Tell me something," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Are you fond of trust exercises?"

Right, Robbie thought as a yawn made him unhinge his jaw like a snake. I'm too tired for this.

With a tired hand he grabbed the mouse and moved the cursor over to the edge of the window. One click later and…

Nothing happened. Robbie clicked again. The window stayed open. Mr. Wonder stayed on the screen, his smile widening as Robbie tried repeatedly to remove the magician from his laptop.

"What the fu-" Robbie started.

"Take my hand," Mr. Wonder ordered. There was no patience in his voice now. It was harsh, throaty.

Mr. Wonder put his hand out towards the camera. Robbie did as he was told, reaching out with his own hand, tapping the edge of his laptop screen. As reluctant as he was, he could not stop himself.

"Close your eyes," Mr. Wonder said.

Again, Robbie followed orders. He was panicking now. Still, he did as he was told. He always did as he was told. Wonder's voice eased his worries, let him know everything was alright.

He whimpered as something gripped his wrist tightly. It was a cold grip of thin fingers, almost too thin to be human, though it was as strong as any Robbie had ever felt.

"A man beheaded," Mr. Wonder said, almost chanting. "A heated, meaningless debate. Shouting matches, as many fetishes as you have thoughts, as many thoughts as there are seconds in your life. Talents, crimes, tragedies, wonders. Do you know what all of these have in common?"

Robbie didn't answer.

"They are all at your very fingertips. Anything you want, at the time you want it."

The grip loosened but did not disappear. It found its way to Robbie's hand now, interlocking icy, bony fingers with his own. Robbie did not open his eyes. It was as if his sight had been robbed of him. Through his mind, images and short videos flashed. Hundreds of them, if not thousands, appearing for a millisecond before being replaced by something else. Each and every one forced its way into Robbie's head, burned into his thoughts, making his mind ache from the sheer overwhelming information being stuffed into it. There were the things Wonder said – a beheaded man, a parliamentary debate – and then there were other things. Alongside images came messages:

'10 reasons why you'll NEVER be the guy girls want.'

'Gorillas do the funniest things on camera!'

'Become a premium member so you can see me like no one else does.'

'The World is ending. You might as well kill yourself.'

There were suggestions, demands, noises Robbie couldn't understand, all thrown at him. The images didn't stop either; they were becoming more aberrant now, entirely unrelated from one another. A puppy yawning, a man cut to pieces. A 100th birthday party, a suicide. Stock markets, bodybuilders, conspiracy theories. Anything and everything Robbie had ever thought of; anything he could've ever experienced was shoved into his head, crammed in there without remorse.

He cried out. The pain worsened, but the overload didn't stop.

"Isn't this what you want? Isn't this what everyone wanted."

Though Robbie felt pain, there was something else he could feel within his mind, something indescribable. It was as if his very thoughts were being ripped from his mind and replaced with whatever Mr. Wonder deemed fit. Memories, wants, dreams, were all gone for the sake of the endless detritus vomited forth from Mr. Wonder's icy grip.

Robbie's mind begged for him to pull away, begged for him to open his eyes at least. He did neither. He could not pull away, not now. After all this pain, there had to be something worthwhile at the end.

For his eyes, a combination of fear and desire kept them shut. Robbie feared Wonder's wrath were he to disobey orders. More importantly, disobeying Wonder would also displease him. It could risk their relationship, it could risk Wonder losing that smile, that life in his eyes. Robbie was not sure what he would do without those things.

"To see so much," Mr. Wonder continued. "To feel it. A rush, isn't it? Everything and anything, at your fingertips whenever you want."

Robbie didn't say anything.

"Speak," the voice echoed in Robbie's head, as if it were his own thoughts demanding his speech.

"Yeah," Robbie squeaked through the pain. "It's great."

Mr. Wonder chuckled. It was a deep, reverberating laugh that did not come from the screen, but instead from all around Robbie. It filled his room, his flat.

"What a funny little thing you are."

"I-"

"Did I tell you to speak?" Mr. Wonder interjected. The grip on Robbie's hand tightened, the pain becoming so great Robbie felt that it would break.

"Sometimes," Mr. Wonder continued. "It is best to give in, to swim in the ocean even if you know the current will swallow you. What lies beneath is much more exciting than the struggle above."

With that, the grip finally loosened on Robbie's hand. He waited a few more seconds before opening his eyes. The tab was closed, the video gone. Only a bare desktop background greeted Robbie as he opened his eyes.

With Mr. Wonder having disappeared for now, Robbie was left to stew in his thoughts. Soon enough, he realised what had just transpired, what he had spoken to.

Robbie smiled. What a lucky break.