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The man with the bushy eyebrows and grey hair smiled even more broadly. "Oh, but I am doing something Faith. I'm sitting here waiting to assist you."
"It doesn't look like it!" Faith said in her most haughty ten-year-old voice. "It looks like you're just sitting there, while I'm going to have to lug this heavy backpack up four flights of stairs!" Faith didn't seem to notice that the man knew her name when he shouldn't.
"Would you prefer to use the elevator, dear?"
"Of course I would prefer to use the elevator!"
"Then we're of a mind, child. Here, let me give you my card."
The elderly gentlemen held out a small business card to Faith, who took it and read it with some effort and with a puzzled look. "Pr-Pr-Professor Im-Imrash West, PhD, R.A.P.E.M, Sp-Sp-Specializing in the Advanced Theory of Wishes." Faith looked up at the strange man with her big green eyes. "What in the world does R A P E M mean?"
"Royal Academy for the Practical Employment of Magic," Professor West said with a twinkle in his eye, "at your service, miss."
"What a bunch of rot!" Faith snorted and stomped her foot, throwing the Professor's card on the floor. "What does any of that have to do with getting the lift fixed."
"Well, you could wish for the lift to be fixed," West said. "But that seems a waste of your only wish. And besides, I'd need something with much more potential that just fixing the elevator once. Heaven knows, it might break again tomorrow."
"You can't really grant wishes! That's stupid."
"Have it your way, Faith. But it surely wouldn't hurt to try. Just imagine if the elevator was always there to take you up and down, up and down, your very own vertical chariot. But there would be a price to pay - you probably couldn't or wouldn't want to pay it."