[ WP ] Each person gets one free wish during their lifetime , but they have no control over when it is granted . Describe how this changes society .

He was an outsider and he knew as much. The world was dying, slowing in its last breath, but he was not a scavenger. He was not a vulture. 
 
 
 He had always wanted to be a doctor. A real doctor like the stories told of. Someone who studied, dedicated their life to the art of making people well. Someone who was a sucker in this dying world. 
 
 
 *I can make it better, * he thought. 
 
 
 But the world rejoiced in its demise. It was thankful, almost. With the wishes, people would ensure that things were perfect. Wishes were the morphine and all pain was lost in the delirium. The world was dying from abandonment, but it died from euthanasia. 
 
 
 He was different though. His wish had been protected by his parents, kept in a trust until he was twenty and responsible enough. But he was near forty now and he had not touched it. He had not taken the easy way out. 
 
 
 With his father's unending wealth he traveled the world. He went to Germany in the cold, in the snow and picturesque scenery among the privileged. He went with only his jacket and the promise to maintain the un-uttered wish. He went in search of an old doctor. 
 
 
 The man was old, near ninety, and he had wished to live forever. He had been around when the wishes were only memories. He had been among the unlucky generation, that last people who had to struggle for their heart's desire. He went to him, Winston the man was called, and he begged to be taught to be a doctor. 
 
 
 `` You are young though,'' old Winston said. `` You have the gift from God.'' 
 
 
 `` I still wish to learn the way of old,'' he said. 
 
 
 And so he learned. Something foreign to the world, learning and the growing pains of knowledge, he endured it all. The years passed with age and finally he was done. 
 
 
 `` There is no school as in my time,'' Winston said. `` But you are a doctor all the same.'' 
 
 
 He was glad. He was thankful. He could not have told why he saved his wish, but there was something to just doing it for real, doing it for himself. 
 
 
 He had no business of course. The world had grown since the wishes became apparent. It had adapted, fitting itself snugly for its casket. A new profession had emerged that allowed people to word their wish so that they lived forever in paradise. They had worded the wish so as to prove God and bend Him to man's will. 
 
 
 He was alone in his human torture. The knowledge of a doctor was wasted and in his time he tried to think ahead. He tried to not use his wish. 
 
 
 *Hold still, * he thought. *You are not God. * 
 
 
 Then one day the young boy had come. He was an orphan and without guidance. He called himself Bottle for that was all he knew. 
 
 
 `` People hate that I am on the bottle,'' he said, but he knew not what that meant. 
 
 
 He was a drunk and alone and he had no trust. Bottle had used his wish for food in his desperation and in his youth. He had no conception of what he could have wished for. And he was dying. 
 
 
 The cancer had grown and there was not much time. He tried his best but Bottle was not in a good position. He stabilized him but the boy suffered and it was only a question of when, not if, he would die. 
 
 
 *I can help, * he thought, but he was educated. 
 
 
 He knew the words were folly. He tried his best, he did all he good. Bottle was dying and on the bed he faded in pain that was unimaginable. The world itself was not dying so painfully. 
 
 
 `` I am sorry, Bottle,'' he said. 
 
 
 `` I have failed as a doctor.'' 
 
 
 The boy was unconscious then. In the silence he thought to his teachings and though his heart was heavy, the morals of a doctor guided him, commanded him. In the failing world it meant little, but to him it was everything. 
 
 
 He used his wish on Bottle, wording it so the boy would forever live in happiness. In that instant, Bottle awoke, and the boy's face was soft, pleasant and not in pain. 
 
 
 The dull feeling of regret haunted him almost as immediately as the words were whispered, but in his heart he knew he had made the right choice. He would be one of the few to die. He would be one of the few who was wish-less, never experiencing that transcendence as only playing God could provide. But he would die proud. And he would die a doctor. The slow euthanasia of the world could continue, but he had achieved some life. He had helped Bottle. He could live with himself. No wish could ever compare.
