Retroville had a very specific "Possible" signature: it smelled like ozone, burnt toast, and the kind of suburban optimism that usually ended in a localized rip in the space-time continuum.
"Sheila," I said, stepping out of the van and onto the sidewalk of a perfectly manicured cul-de-sac. "Confirm the coordinates. Are we really at the home of the man who invited us because of 'organized ants'?"
["Confirmed, Danny,"] Sheila replied. ["And I've analyzed the signal. It wasn't just a request for help; it was an 'Ant-Manifesto' broadcast at a frequency only accessible by the Neutron household. Also, Jenny's internal scanners are picking up a very high concentration of... sugar-based life forms."]
"Sugar? Like, candy?"
"No," Jimmy Neutron said, stepping out of the van and looking at his own house with a look of profound embarrassment. "Like... The Fairly OddParents."
Before I could ask what that meant, a small, pink-haired girl and a green-haired boy in yellow shirts poofed into existence right in front of us. They were holding wands, and their eyes were spinning.
"Whoa!" Ben Tennyson yelled, his hand going to the Omnitrix. "Pink and green aliens! Are they from the Null Void?"
"They're not aliens, Ben," Danny Fenton said, his ghost-sense giving a confused little puff. "They're... floating? But they don't feel like ghosts. They feel like... glitter and chaos."
"They're my friends!" a ten-year-old boy with a pink hat and a massive overbite shouted, running out of the Neutron house. "I'm Timmy! Timmy Turner! And I think I accidentally wished for the ants to have 'Better Career Opportunities'!"
"Timmy!" Jimmy groaned, rubbing his temples. "I told you, magic and science don't mix! My dad's ant farm has officially incorporated! They've built a tiny skyscraper in the backyard, and they're currently suing the garden gnome for trespassing!"
I looked past the kids toward the backyard. Sure enough, a gleaming, six-inch-tall skyscraper made of discarded soda cans and twigs rose from the grass. Thousands of ants in tiny, microscopic suits were marching in perfect formation, carrying tiny briefcases.
"It's a corporate takeover," I muttered, my "Campbell" insurance brain kicking into high gear. "They aren't just ants anymore. They're Ant-Repreneurs. If they secure the deed to the backyard, they'll have the legal right to seize the kitchen."
"I can blast them!" Jenny said, her hand transforming into a localized sonic-pulse cannon. "One 'Deep-Clean' cycle and the skyscraper is history!"
"No!" Timmy Turner yelled. "If you blast them, Cosmo and Wanda will lose their 'Ant-Fairies' status! I wished for them to be the CEOs!"
"Cosmo and Wanda?" Kim asked, looking at the floating pink and green figures. "The... fairies?"
"WANDA! WE'RE CEOS!" the green-haired one (Cosmo) yelled, his wand turning into a tiny gold pen. "I'm going to buy a mountain made of pudding and fire everyone who doesn't like the color chartreuse!"
"Cosmo, no!" the pink-haired one (Wanda) sighed. "We have to stop the ants before they reach the sugar-bowl, or the whole 'Magic-Science' balance will tip!"
"Alright, Protocol," I said, stepping into the center of the yard. "This is a Level 2 High-Stakes Comedy. Jimmy, Timmy—you guys are the 'Recruits.' Timmy, you have the magic; Jimmy, you have the logic. We need to 'un-wish' the corporate ambition without causing a 'Logic-Snap.'"
"I have a plan!" Jimmy yelled. "Goddard! Deploy the 'Anti-Ambition' pheromone spray! If we make the ants feel like it's Friday at 4:59 PM, they'll all quit and go home!"
"And I'll wish for... for a giant, magical weekend!" Timmy shouted.
The collaboration was a mess of glitter and gadgets. Jimmy sprayed a shimmering blue mist over the ant-skyscraper while Timmy waved his hat and yelled, "I WISH FOR THE ANTS TO HAVE 401Ks AND EARLY RETIREMENT!"
The result was a localized reality-warp. The ant-skyscraper didn't explode; it slowly transformed into a tiny, peaceful retirement community made of marshmallows. The ants took off their tiny suits, put on tiny Hawaiian shirts, and settled into tiny lawn chairs.
"Magic and science," I whispered, watching the "Ant-Fairies" poof back into their normal, floating forms. "It's a dangerous combination."
"But it worked!" Timmy cheered, high-fiving Jimmy.
I looked at the 'Low-Stakes' meter. It had peaked during the 'Ant-Manifesto' phase but was back down to a steady 10%. We had a new recruit—Timmy Turner and his "God-Parents" (who I was going to have to file under 'Unpredictable Assets')—and the Neutron backyard was safe from litigation.
Jenny walked up to me, her pigtails spinning softly. "Danny? I scanned the 'Fairies.' Their energy signature is... impossible. But they made the ants happy. Does that mean the Protocol is now 'Magical' too?"
"It means we're prepared for anything, Jenny," I said, taking her hand. "Even pudding-mountains."
As we prepared to leave Retroville, Timmy looked at us with wide eyes. "So... I'm in? I'm part of the 'Possible Protocol'?"
"You're the 'Wild Card,' Timmy," I said. "Just... try not to wish for anything bigger than a sandwich without clearing it with the Producer first."
"I can do that!" Timmy beamed. "Cosmo! Wanda! Wish for... a 'Possible' uniform for me!"
Poof!
Timmy was suddenly wearing a pink-and-black tactical vest that featured a tiny, glowing 'P' on the chest.
["Danny,"] Sheila's voice rang in my ear. ["I've updated the roster. Timmy Turner: Role: Reality-Warping Specialist. Cosmo and Wanda: Role: Classified / High-Risk / Emotional Support. Also, Jimmy and Timmy are already arguing over whether a 'Wand' is just a high-tech neutrino-wand. This is going to be a very long bus ride home."]
"Low-stakes, Sheila. Low-stakes."