Romney picked up the small red stone and looked at it questioningly. Where had it come from? His cell didn't have any windows or vents, and the only exit was the steel door on the other side of the room. It had a small opening near the top of the door to allow the guards to talk to him and deliver his meals, but the stone couldn't have come from there. It was too far away. The stone looked like it had just dropped down from the middle of the room. So how did it get there?
"I wish I knew what this was and where it came from," he muttered to himself. Suddenly, knowledge rushed into his mind. One moment, he was confused by the stone, then the next, he knew exactly what it was, where it came from, and all the miracles and destruction it caused on its long journey from the Inca Empire to the modern day United States of America. But ... there was something wrong. The U.S. was not supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be a democracy, one where both sides of the political spectrum lived together, maybe not always in harmony, but they existed side-by-side nonetheless. The Republican party was not dominant, not any more than the Democratic party. It was ... it was a lot more like the nation he envisioned America could be. Should be. He paused, remembering that his "revolutionary" ideals were what had put him into prison. But with this stone ... he could change things. Make them more like how they were supposed to be.
But he had to be careful. Now that he knew what this stone was and what it could do, he also knew that any wish he made would be filtered through an extreme right-wing mindset.
Romney sat down on his bed and looked down at the stone in his hands. He needed to think about this carefully.
"I wish ..." he began, after thinking long and hard about how best to use it.
