Story 124: Reza Shadey and the Crystal Lightbulb
The end of the year was approaching, and a nervous jitter had settled over the garden.
The air was cold, the leaves were gone, and everyone was worrying about the future. It was the sort of quiet, brittle time when even the fence posts seemed to be thinking ahead.
Would the sun come back properly after winter, or would it return half-hearted, like a torch with tired batteries? Would the treat cupboard remain stocked in 2026, or would humans suddenly decide that cats needed "less" for reasons that were never fully explained?
Ginger Tom was particularly anxious. He had heard the word "Veganuary" through an open kitchen window and had been brooding ever since.
Penelope, meanwhile, had been listening carefully whenever Mrs Higgins's radio was on.
"...experts warn..."
"...predictions suggest..."
"...nobody could have foreseen..."
Each phrase drifted into the garden and settled there like frost.
Tiger misunderstood most of it and had become convinced that something big was coming. Possibly aliens. Possibly a ban on running.
Only Reza Shadey remained entirely untroubled.
Reza Shadey did not do worry.
He did strategy.
While rummaging in the garage for a lost toy mouse (which he was quite sure he had hidden somewhere extremely clever), Reza discovered something magnificent.
It was a very large, very dusty, old-fashioned lightbulb.
It wasn't attached to anything. It didn't glow. It didn't hum. But when Reza stared into its curved glass, it reflected his own face perfectly — larger, rounder, and somehow wiser-looking than usual.
His emerald eyes gleamed.
"Destiny", he whispered. "The universe is uncertain. And where there is uncertainty, there is a market."
He turned the bulb slightly. His reflection followed.
"Yes", he murmured. "The future requires guidance. Preferably mine."
Within the hour, Reza had established his headquarters beneath the garden table.
Mrs Higgins's best tea towel had been dragged outside and draped over his head like a mystic turban. It slipped slightly to one side, covering his ears and most of his forehead, giving him the look of a very intense, fluffy wizard who had recently argued with a washing basket.
In front of him, resting on a velvet cushion (borrowed from the sofa without formal permission), sat the Lightbulb of Truth.
Reza scratched a sign into the dirt with careful claws:
REZA SHADEY
STRATEGIC PSYCHIC & FUTURE CONSULTANT
FEE: SNACKS (UPFRONT)
He sat back and admired it.
"Roll up, roll up!" he yowled, his voice muffled slightly by the tea towel.
"Do not fear the New Year! I have the watts and the wisdom to illuminate your path!"
Curiosity, as usual, won.
His first client was Tiger, who bounced under the table and nearly knocked the cushion sideways.
"Reza! Reza! What does my future hold? Is it exciting?"
Reza placed one paw on the lightbulb and closed his eyes.
"I sense", he intoned, "a year of movement. Great movement. You will run. You will jump. Occasionally... you will forget why you started running."
Tiger gasped. "That already happens!"
"Excellent", said Reza. "Consistency is a very strong sign."
Tiger paid with a half-eaten catnip treat.
Next came Ginger Tom, who sat heavily and frowned.
"Right", he said. "Simple question. Is 2026 going to be worse than this year?"
Reza frowned thoughtfully. This was a classic prediction category.
"The Lightbulb indicates", he said slowly, "that 2026 will be... different."
Tom waited.
"Some things will improve", Reza continued. "Other things will not. Biscuits may arrive later than expected."
Ginger Tom nodded. "Figures." He paid with a biscuit and shuffled away.
Then Shah Fluffybutt arrived, regal but visibly strained.
"I require a consultation", he murmured. "My AI start-up is burning resources."
Reza placed both paws on the bulb and hummed — a low, important hum.
"The Lightbulb suggests", Reza announced, "that your strategy is sound, but the market is... fluid. I foresee a pivot. Possibly sideways. Possibly accidental."
Shah leaned forward. "Will it survive Q1?"
"Yes", said Reza carefully. "In the sense that it will continue to exist. With... less loss."
Shah Fluffybutt exhaled deeply.
"Less loss", he said. "That is all anyone wants."
He paid with an entire tin of premium salmon pâté, which Reza immediately hid behind the table leg.
Penelope had been watching quietly.
She stepped forward now, her calm eyes taking in the tea towel, the lightbulb, and the hidden pâté.
"Rezzi", she said gently. "It's a lightbulb. It's not even plugged in."
Reza bristled.
"Plugged in?" he scoffed. "This is wireless foresight. To prove it, I shall make a prediction that cannot fail."
He glanced at the sun.
It was nearly 10:00 AM.
The time the postman always arrived.
And when the postman arrived, the dog always barked.
Reza raised a dramatic paw.
"Behold! The spirits tell me that in exactly two minutes, a Great Beast shall sound the alarm! The air will fill with the noise of 'WOOF'!"
The garden went very quiet.
Tiger stopped bouncing. Ginger Tom paused mid-snack. They all waited.
9:59...
10:00...
10:01...
Nothing.
No barking. No postman. Just a robin, chirping very loudly.
Penelope sighed. "It's a Bank Holiday, Rezzi."
Reza froze.
His tea towel slipped over one eye.
"Ahem", he coughed. "Yes. Well. The holiday schedule was... factored in. This was a silent bark. Metaphysical barking."
Ginger Tom snorted. "That's convenient."
Desperate to regain control, Reza spotted Sinan the Raccoon by the shed, tinkering with wires.
"One final vision!" Reza declared. "A forward-looking statement for 2026! I predict that Sinan shall create a Great Invention in the New Year — one that changes the garden forever!"
Sinan blinked. "Could do. Or it could explode..."
"Either way", said Reza briskly, already gathering the pâté, "I was correct."
"Consultation over! The spirits are tired!"
Later that day, Reza curled up indoors, warm and smug.
"Note to self", he muttered.
"Add Bank Holidays to forecasting model."
Outside, the garden settled back into itself.
The future remained uncertain. Predictions would continue. Experts would revise their estimates.
And Reza Shadey, whatever the year, would always be ready to explain it — for snacks.
A very important message from Mrs Higgins: Old lightbulbs are made of glass and can be very fragile and sharp if they break! Never play with old electrical items or glass without a grown-up watching.
Night night. Sleep tight.