Ana was eight when she got her Fairy console for Christmas. In a family like hers, with both her parents eking out a meagre living at the local authority, a Fairy console was a regal present. The technology packed inside the toy was brand new, and very expensive. 

When the amazement of the unboxing had dispelled, she fell into her parents’ arms amidst tears of joy. Then she considered the console in all her shininess and beauty, reluctant to open it.

‘Why don’t you open it?’ her mother asked.

‘I’m afraid it could break,’ Anna replied. 

With a sigh she finally resolved to lift the lid. The bottom part of the console was made of heavy, nondescript plastic, but the inside of the lid had a few tiny holes punched in it, one of which was filled with a tiny lens. Once fully open, the lid stood perpendicular to the bottom, and the console could be set at rest on a table.

There was a transient whir as the device turned on. Then, in a high-pitched voice, ‘Hello, Ana, I’m so happy to meet you! I’m your personal Fairy. I hope we’ll live many adventures together!’

Ana was enraptured.

‘Fairy, please, could you…’ Ana hesitated. ‘Could you clothe me in a princess’ dress?’

‘Of course, dear!’ The lens lit on, and suddenly Ana was wrapped into a glittering, bright-coloured, pleated dress. She chirped and spun, and the dress moved and unfurled around her. The illusion was nonpareil. 

‘Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!’ Ana said once again to her parents. She beamed to them, took the console and, still clad in her glitzy princess’ dress, ran into her bedroom.

Her parents smiled to one another.

[hr]

In the following months, Ana’s bedroom accommodated all sort of marvellous items or animals. Sumptuous attire, sparkling gems, rings and diadems, flying dragons and unicorns. There wasn’t a day she didn’t spend many hours talking to her Fairy console.

But other Christmases, other birthdays came, and Ana slowly shed off her childhood’s outfits to put on the less naïve, flashier clothes of teenagers. Her parents adopted a dog. Ana’s attention turned elsewhere, and the forlorn Fairy console ended up forgotten inside a drawer. Then, when she got a new desk for high-school, it was shoved into a box, and put away in the cellar.

Then grim times struck. The schools closed. War erupted, and with it life in constant fear and scarcity. Regular return trips to the dark underground shelters and hopeless prayers to fend off the carpet-bombings. The power grid failed. Hunger became a daily companion. Their dog died of starvation. Ana’s mother took sick and died.

When the war finally ended, there was hardly anything left of Ana’s former home and life. Her father, as former public servant, obtained an emergency housing in another, less damaged, quarter. They had to move everything by themselves.

[hr]

Ana rediscovered the Fairy box late that night after most of the unpacking was done. It was covered in dirt, and the shiny and pristine rosy covering had flaked off along deep scratches. She blew the dirt away, and carefully opened the lid.

The lid squeaked, and only snatches of the once familiar voice came out: ‘Hello Ana… fairy… hope… many adven… er.’

The batteries were probably all but empty, but there was no way Ana could buy new ones. Suddenly overwhelmed by all the memories the toy had conjured up, she cupped her face into her hands and burst into tears.

‘Why… crying?’ the console asked.

‘Fairy,’ Ana asked between two sobs, ‘could you bring my old life back, before the war?’

The lens blinked on, but failed before any hologram could be seen. There was a short pause, then the console stuttered: ‘… worn out… Old… do… what I can.’ After that last word, the power indicator went dead.

Ana angrily threw the toy against the opposite wall, flopped down into her bed, buried her head under the pillow and kept crying until exhaustion and sleep finally took her over.

[hr]

The next morning when Ana woke up, she didn’t stir immediately, but kept staring at the ceiling for a long time. Then she slowly rolled on to her side and took in her bedroom. 

She shuddered. 

Exactly where the console had crashed that last evening now lay a small, sleeping puppy.