By Christopher Humphrey
Word Count: 2,563 words
The calloused sole of his bare right foot touched upon the scorching white sands. And then the left. He repeated the motion as he trudged under the anvil of the sun.
The desert wastes stretched out infinitely in every direction with no immediate end in sight.
It was an entire world of its own. Or, rather, much less a living, breathing world but a blank canvas for a work that will never be. There was a distinct lack of noise in the flatland, visual or otherwise.
Indeed, the surrounding land was void of elevation, or inclines for that matter. No life, no vegetation, nothing save for the ragged man who shuffled aimlessly across the blank zone.
Even the sky provided no relief from the encroaching monotony. A cloudless pale blue that almost seemed to blend in with the unsaturated world below.
The orange-yellow sun hung at its peak as the sole sentinel over a kingdom that had long since been reduced to dust.
The wanderer attempted to wipe the sweat from his brow but the back of his hand remained dry. He had become more like a mere automaton that only managed to carry on with the meager remnants of its fumes.
Whether it was from exhaustion or from the last thread of a lingering will snapped, he stumbled before collapsing.
However, as the man fell to his knees, his legs came into contact with something hard and smooth. The mysterious object scraped against his legs but his wavering consciousness was barely able to register the pain.
But out of curiosity, he dug into the sand beneath him and pulled out a small, metal object which brightly glinted under the sun as he held it up.
It was an old oil lamp.
The curious man removed the lid and peered inside but the container only held darkness and nothing more.
It might have been a coincidence, it might have been the recollection of an old legend—the man rubbed the side of the silvery vessel all the same. He held it up to his face, closely inspecting the spirals and parallel lines engraved into the lamp.
Then the lamp began to vibrate, subtly at first, but then violently after a few seconds. In a single instant, the lamp became white-hot, causing the startled man to loosen his grip. The molten chunk of metal fell to the ground, sending up a dust cloud that sizzled and sparked midair.
Peculiar formless waves emanated from the spout which soon transformed into the bizarre spectacle of smokeless fire. The billowing flames swayed to and fro, a seeming choreography that went on for several minutes until the dazzling blaze settled and narrowed into an intangible heated spire.
That was when the fire opened its eyes. The man wasn’t sure of what he saw at first, thinking that it could have been a stray illusory flicker.
It was like a trick of the eye—until it wasn’t.
The revelation of pupils was also the unveiling of hills and contours that illustrated a feminine form clad in jewels and loose fabric. Dark strands of hair flowed in a non-existent breeze, mimicking its previous blazing form.
The strange female being lowered itself until she was hovering mere inches from the ground. She looked down at the scrawny man with dark, indifferent eyes.
“I am the djinn who resides in the lamp,” she spoke.
The djinn spoke in a flat, archaic register. To say that it was monotone was to assume that the spirit considered humanity its equal.
The lone man, despite the lack of strength, quickly rose to his feet. An unmistakable gleam shone in his eyes. The remaining drops of moisture in his body unconsciously became salivation.
He mustered all of his remaining strength in order to address the unearthly being, “T-then you are—you are a genie?” His voice barely managed to bridge the gap between him and the djinn. It was hoarse and clearly on the verge of withering into nothingness. Despite everything, he held himself up with minimal composure.
The djinn half-nodded in response, a quasi-acknowledgement of the lowly being in her presence.
“Djinn or genie,” she responded, “all names are roads that lead to the same conclusion.”
Upon confirmation, the man dusted off his tattered clothes and bowed toward the djinn in deep respect. He slowly returned to his normal posture after a moment. He expected the djinn to be ecstatic now that she was no longer bound by the lamp, yet her cold gaze was in stark contrast to her fiery introduction.
As if she could read his mind, or simply that she was observant enough to notice the look of bewilderment plastered over his face, she spoke once more, “The perception of djinn and human consciousness are not lateral, parallel, equal, or otherwise. I speak of separate planes of existence—emotion is a rarity.”
The man scratched his head as he processed the djinn’s words, but ultimately he was able to understand the sentiment on some level at least. He thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully in silent deliberation. All the while, the djinn, unfazed, floated in the same spot where she had materialized.
Finally, the man broke the unyielding silence, “Then I’ll have three wishes… right?”
“If you like.”
She crossed her arms as she promptly responded. There was no hesitation or reluctance in her voice. Her decision was crystal clear.
“Wonderful,” the wanderer coughed, his voice dry and hoarse. “I can’t believe it. In a realm where no dream could hope to dwell… yet here I am…”
He paced back and forth on the sand, taking care to avoid putting pressure on the crimson blisters dotting his feet.
“I’ll need time to think about this,” he said. The man, having found his second wind, began his trek through the desert once more. He motioned for the djinn to follow. “Come on, now. Daylight is burning… literally.”
But the djinn remained fixed to her original position.
The man spun around, his head cocked to the side. He brushed his unkempt hair out of his face, looking the djinn up and down.
“What’s the matter? Can’t move without the lamp?”
She smirked, but only for a fraction of a second. Then her visage returned to its usual stoic state.
“No,” she spoke. “There is no need. I am not like the gift-givers in your stories.” She moved closer to the man, looking down at him. “You must relay all your wishes to me, here and now. There will be no consideration later, only consequences.”
The man’s shoulders slumped as he plopped himself onto the sandy ground. He wasn’t dismayed by the spirit’s response; rather he fell into a stupor of deep thought. But in that stillness he turned his head and coughed violently.
“I imagine you might wish for a cool drink,” the djinn suggested.
But the man shook his head.
“I can’t waste one of my wishes on a glass of water.”
“Not even if it was the most satisfying sip of your life?”
“I wasn’t born yesterday. The value of my wishes is greater than my thirst.”
The djinn narrowed her eyes and studied the loner carefully.
“So, rubber of the lamp, if you are so wise then what would you wish for?”
It took only a moment for the man to respond, “As for my first wish… I would like infinite wealth!”
The djinn stroked her chin as she thought about the man’s request.
“Tricky,” she replied.
“But can you do it?”
“It is not as if I can give you currency that does not already exist.”
“Then what about all the money that does currently exist?”
“I could… but if you were the sole guardian of all the world’s wealth, it would all instantaneously become worthless if no one else could possess it, would it not?”
The man furrowed his brow, but he sighed in reluctant agreement.
“Okay, maybe not all money, but enough to leave me very well off for life. Oh, and my life can’t be cut short or anything like that, alright?”
“Very well. A full life with substantial wealth. Should it also be enough for your descendants to inherit?”
“No, that’s okay. I have no family to speak of.”
“Then the first wish is settled. What will your second be, I wonder?” The djinn narrowed her eyes as she gazed at the man.
He mumbled to himself as he lazily traced circles in the sand, only to wipe them away and then begin anew.
Then the djinn’s nose twitched as a thought occurred to her. She bent down low and spoke coolly, “If I might make a suggestion…?”
He nodded and allowed her to continue speaking, and so she did.
“Any treasures or jewels or even the finer aspects of life will be of no use to you so long as you remain here. What good are these things if you cannot survive the journey back to civilization?”
Again, the man nodded. His face conveyed disappointment, but logically he understood that his other two wishes would be in vain if he were left to rot in the barren wastes.
“Hm, so then my second wish would be to be instantly transported back to civilization.”
“Are you sure?”
“What is it this time?”
“It is not as if what you ask is impossible. Rather, I fear your body may not take to the sudden instantaneous… readjustment.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that the journey will tear every molecule, everything that makes up you, asunder.”
The man tugged at his collar and quickly clarified his intent, “Um, okay, maybe not instantly as it were, but quickly. Quickly enough to avoid wasting time, but not so quick as to kill me.”
The djinn nodded, finding no need to correct the altered desire.
“A wise decision, rubber of the lamp. But where shall I transport you to?”
“Any decent city, I suppose.”
She placed her hands on her hips.
“You suppose, but there are vagabonds and thieves even in the midst of the most luxurious of cities. Your newly acquired wealth will not go unnoticed. I hope you did not forget about your first wish.”
The man stood up at once and firmly declared, “Then I shall be brought directly to my dream mansion.”
“Yes, brought directly to the site where your dream mansion will one day be completed. Rome was not built in a day, and a palace of the magnitude you imagine certainly would not be either.”
He huffed in frustration but refused to argue because he knew that she was right. He wasn’t considering his wishes carefully enough.
“Alright, alright. Then I will be brought directly to a mansion already on the market where I will be given the deed on arrival.” He wheezed slightly and added, “And it must be in a good location.”
The djinn listened intently to the revised request and nodded.
“Thus ends the matter of the second wish.” She folded her arms once more and looked the man squarely in the eyes. “And then there was one.”
Before he could consider his final wish, the man looked up at the djinn and asked her, “I hadn’t thought about it much until now, but why are you helping me with my wishes? Usually someone like myself makes a vague, greedy wish and then there is some horrible unforeseen consequence. Yet you have done nothing but help me.”
“When you live as long as I have, life tends to grow dull. Typically I may grant a person their wishes and send them on their way. But I never see the consequences when I am back within my confines. So, a thought experiment makes matters a bit more interesting, does it not?”
He scratched his head, unable to wrap his mind around the concept of that brand of immortality.
“I worded my wishes correctly, didn’t I? No mistakes?”
“No mistakes,” she replied decisively. “If these two wishes were granted, there would be nothing unforeseen or unfortunate.”
He sighed in relief and began to ponder what else he could possibly desire.
Before he could say anything, the djinn raised her hand and abruptly spoke, “Also, you cannot wish for more wishes. That would be a paradox, no? You said, ‘three wishes,’ correct? Three is not the same thing as infinite. That kind of illogic… it would be like you are never granted any wishes at all.”
“Very true,” the man agreed, “O Great Genie of the Lamp. Your logic never fails. Let’s keep it simple then. I wish for a beautiful wife.” He paused and then added, “One who is not only beautiful to others but to me as well. You know, eye of the beholder and all that. Oh, and she must love me in return.”
“Love you… to the point of madness?”
“No! Of course not! Just a normal, loving relationship. That. Is. All. Thank you very much.”
“Do not thank me until we are through, human.”
“And do not play coy with me. My wishes are sound, right?”
“They truly were when I said so before, and they continue to be sound, even now as I speak.” She straddled the gossamer air beneath her, crossing her legs as if seated upon a silken cushion. “Your third wish is sound, as I said. I can guarantee love, but not prolonged romance. Perhaps it will not be an issue, but if worse comes to worst your newfound fortune will suddenly be much less impressive.” She leaned in close, her voice just above a whisper, “So, if not a wife then perhaps a concubine for your amusement.”
“Or a harem. If it is not true love… then why limit myself?”
For the first time in their conversation, the djinn chuckled softly.
“Now you are finally learning, human. My boredom begins to wane, if only slightly.”
A wicked grin spread across the man’s face.
“I would even welcome you into my home, genie.”
She glared at the man, but her fury cooled as soon as it had risen.
“You forget yourself, human. I am like a mare of ice and fire—within the grasp of no one. To wrangle me is to lasso the air itself. Infinite patience does not exist within my infinite wisdom.”
The man shrugged, and after a moment he said, “Anyway, those are my wishes. Now, if you would, grant them.”
But the djinn remained fixed to her original position.
She trembled slightly, not from nervousness but from pure amusement.
“What is it?” The man yelled. “What’s so funny?”
The djinn continued to bellow with laughter for a long while before she dignified the man with a response, “I told you before, did I not? I am not like the gift-givers in your stories.”
“But you promised me three wishes!”
“No. You said that you will have three wishes. And you have them.” The djinn looked down on the haggard man with a grin from the deepest pits of hell. “But I never said I would grant them.”
Under the grip of despair and trickery, the man fell to his knees once more, his hands half-sunk into the alabaster sands.
The djinn cackled with delight as she was enveloped in smokeless fire before soon disappearing in a puff of logic.
An imagined ruleset is irrelevant when the game differs from expectation.
~ End ~