Al Jinn

Eric Portland taught electronics and, to help his students, he was always on the lookout for discarded technology. Lora Portland, his wife, designed magnetic jewellery intended to help in the relief of arthritic pain. They liked to say that between electronics and magnets, theirs was a great attraction.
 
Eric found his gizmos in Op Shops. One Saturday, he and Lora were rummaging around in The Nambour Recycle Centre. Eric was contemplating a computer. Lora was head-deep in a box marked, Miscellaneous. Spotting a lamp of bilious green, she carefully dragged it out.

“What d’you think?” she asked.

“I think gangrene,” Eric replied.

Thoughtfully, Lora turned the pot, admiring how its wide body tapered to a narrow spout. “An Aladdin’s lamp?” She turned the tag. “Two dollars? That’s dirt cheap! This, I’ve got to buy.” 

Lora paid a man with a creased face and silver hair. “There you are,” he said, “all yours.” He smiled, yet as she took the lamp, shivers ran up and down her spine.

Once home, Lora scratched at the gangrene surface, revealing a metallic gleam. “Look!” she cried.
 
“Oh? An oxide?” Eric scraped away a bit more of the green. “Bronze? Copper? I can’t tell but I’m pretty sure that I can remove the gunk.”

Eric made up a dilute acid and dropped the lamp into it. With stirring, the green goo quickly dissolved.

The layer beneath was blue with copper-coloured seams. Using tongs, Eric extracted the lamp and dropped it into water until it was safe to hold. The lamp exuded warmth. Eric frowned: was this the aftermath of the acid bath or just the burnished impression of the metal? He took it to Lora.

“That’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. “It’s got soul.” She held the lamp to the light. “It even has a face. See the small indentations that make the eyes. The spout, of course, is the nose.” Beneath her excitement ran a thin thread of doubt.

Eric, smiling at Lora’s imagination, ran his fingertips over the blue and copper surface. “Ah ha!” his face brightened, “What do I feel here?” A torch revealed a spidery script. Eric squinted at it. “What’s this? Arabic, Persian? I bet it’s old.” 

They gazed at each other. This time, both felt shivers in their spines.  

“I don’t recognise the writing,” Lora said. “Try the Internet.”

Eric Googled on ‘ancient scripts’. After a few minutes, he said. “This is weird.”

“What?” Lora felt a chill and moved closer.

“According to this website, the script and the lamp come from Atlantis.”

“Atlantis?” A deeper chill ran through Lora. “Let’s make the writing clearer.”

“I’ll try metal polish. A good rub should do it.”

Eric covered the surface in cream, let it stand for a few minutes and then began to rub it off. To his surprise, the surface emitted a glow. Eyes wide, Eric dropped the lamp.

“Lora,” he gasped, “look!”

Lora gripped his arm. “Is it dangerous?”

“I don’t know.” Unrubbed, the glow started to fade. “It… it seemed like some sort of radiation. Wait a mo, I’ll try my Geiger Counter.” The gizmo, bought cheap on e-bay, was held over the lamp. “Nothing,” he said. “So I guess it’s safe.” His expression, however, said otherwise.

Slowly but firmly, Eric again rubbed the lamp and for a second time, it started to glow. The Geiger Counter, however, still stayed silent. Suddenly, though, a blue cloud grew out of the spout. Misty at first, it soon condensed into a blue head about the size of a grape.

“You called?” the head said.

Lora’s fingers took a death hold on Eric’s elbow. “I… you… what…” he stammered.

“Dragon got your tongue?” The tiny figure looked around. “Change that. Cat got your tongue?”

Eric managed to pull himself together. “What the heck are you?” 

“Don’t azk.” The blue head spoke with a slight buzz. It looked at the two, eyebrows lifted, waiting for them to ask. They didn’t. It rolled its eyes. “All right, I’ll tell you. I’m a genie.”

“A genie?” Eric moved his head from side to side. “Are you a hologram?”

The genie looked indignant. “I’m not a hollow anything!”

Lora peeked over Eric’s shoulder. “An artificial intelligence?”

“Artifizial?” The genie sounded affronted. “Magical? Maybe. Genetically modified? Yes. But artifizial? Never!” Eric tried to poke his finger through the head, expecting to see a projection on his fingers. “By Atlantis,” the genie cried, “but would you stop that? How would you like a poke in the eye wiz a blunt stick?” 

Eric dropped his hand. “Bloody hell, I do think it’s real!”

“For a so-called intelligent perzon, you are rather slow.” The genie looked at Lora. “How about genie, real genie?”

“Eric,” she said slowly, “it really is a genie.”

“A genie?” There was a long moment during which the technical whiz absorbed the idea. “Okay, so if you’re a… a genie… A genie?” Eric shook his head. “What is your name? Do you have a name? Do genies have names?”

“Coz I have a name! What do you zink I am, a no-name? What you zink? I am Al Jinn.” The tiny head swelled briefly.

Eric leant forward. “You’re very small for a genie. I thought genies were bigger. You’re just a talking head.”

“You try living in a lamp. You’ll zoon be smaller.”

“Do you have a body?” Lora asked. “I thought a genie had a body shaped like a pear.”

“My body?” Al Jinn waggled his tiny eyebrows. “I’ve got a peanut for a body.” Eric tried to look down the spout. “Now, now, no peeking! I’m not dressed!”

Leaning back in his chair, Eric held the lamp in his outstretched hands. “Aren’t we supposed to get three wishes?”

“Wishes? Wishes! You wish! D’you zink I’d be peanut size if I could give three wishes.”  The bubblegum balloon of a head stretched to the length of a finger. “In your dreamz, my friend, in your dreamz.” With that, the genie disappeared back inside the lamp. 

“That’s rude,” Eric complained.

Lora shrugged. “Maybe his manners shrank with his size.”

A determined expression settled over Eric’s face and he again rubbed the lamp. A whole genie appeared, about the size of a finger.

“Yes?” he snapped.

“Our three wishes.”

“What day is it?” The genie folded his arms across his chest.

“Saturday.”

“What time?”

Eric and Lora exchanged glances. “Four.”

“Four o’clock, Saturday. Zorry, early closing, all wishes are off.” The genie disappeared again.

Eric blew up. “I want my wishes!” he shouted. “They don’t have to be big wishes. Little ones will do.” 

With one hand, he gripped the lamp while with the other, he rubbed. A cloud slowly billowed out. It resolved into a man-sized genie with a turban on his head and a scimitar in his belt. But whereas the genie had been opaque when small, he was transparent when large. 

“Perzistent, aren’t you?” Al Jinn snapped. “Doezn’t zis generation have any respect for zer elders?”

“I want my three wishes.” Eric tapped the lamp. “It must be nine wishes by now.”

“By the great Zoroastra!” Al Jinn pulled his sword and waved it about. Eric and Lora stepped back. Very quickly, though, the movements slowed down.

Eventually, with an effort, Al Jinn sheathed the weapon. “Look,” He was panting, “take a seat. I have to tell you, I’ve lost my powerz. I don’t know but the past century, they’ve just gone down to nothing. I can’t even magic a rabbit. Maybe only a mouse.” He suddenly looked hopeful. “You weren’t zinking of wishing for a mouse, were you? Three times, maybe?”

“No!” Eric shook his head. “I was thinking, maybe, a new house? A new car?”

“A new washing machine?” Lora added.

“If only.” Al Jinn floated about on the end of the spout. “Make me rich. Make me handsome. Make me sexy. D’you know how many timez I’ve heard that? If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a million timez. No wonder I’ve got no powerz.” Like a burst balloon, he slumped over the lamp.

“But that’s your job, isn’t it, fulfilling wishes?”

“Oh, yez.” Al Jinn nodded a few times. “But then it’s homez for the homelezz and food for the starving. It all comes from somewhere and that somewhere is me.” 

Eric and Lora exchanged glances. “Great, make it that, homes for the homeless and food for the starving. We wouldn’t mind a new car, of course.”

“Hey, hey, az if.” Al Jinn spread hands the size of tennis racquets. “I just haven’t got the energy.” He leant over Eric. “I think,” he whispered, “that I’ve got chronic fatigue.” He fell into a horizontal heap. “Help me! Help me! Can you help me?” 

Lora rattled her magnetic bracelets. “I’m interested in health. How long have you been like this?” 

“How long?” Al Jinn sat up. “When you’re stuck in a lamp, time iz relative. Though I tell you, time is no relative of mine. But for this, I know exactly. Since I gave that Nikola Tesla three wishes.”

“Tesla?” Lora turned to Eric. “He’s the alternating current man, isn’t he?”

Eric nodded. “Yes, he’s the Einstein of electricity. Around 1886, he broke away from Edison and direct current to develop alternating current.” 

“Yez, well that’s when I started getting tired. But it’z been worze in the past ten years or zo.” 

“Interesting. Hang on.” Eric returned to the Internet. 

As words, pictures and graphs appeared, Al Jinn curved his body into a question mark. “What zort of magic iz that?” he asked.

“No magic,” Eric said. “Just modern technology.”

Al Jinn raised the bushes that served as his eyebrows. “Same difference.”

“You think?” Eric rapped the lamp. “What sort of technology are you?”

“Hey,” Al Jinn bristled, “that hurts.”

“Hurts? Through the metal?”

The genie pushed his nose against Eric’s. “That iz my body, if you don’t mind.”

Lora gently stroked the lamp. “Oops, we’re sorry. You mean this is a sort of shell?”

“Exactly. I am more grown than made.”

“Ah ha!” Eric swivelled back to the computer. “If it’s not metal then you’re not shielded. Now I know what to look for.” A quick search produced a questionnaire. “Are your eyes red?”

“I’m a genie, they’re always red.”

“Okay, I mean itchy or sore?”

Al Jinn made a face. “Now you ask, yez.”

“D’you get backache, cramp?”

“Yez again but I thought that waz from being squeezed into the lamp.” 

“Memory loss?”

“No.” Al Jinn looked sad. “I remember everything, centuries of it.” Then his eyes suddenly opened wide. “By Atlantis, but I did forget. Once inside, I have extra dimenzions.”

“That’s it.” Eric clapped his hands. “You’ve got electromagnetic stress. It coincides with the spread of Tesla’s alternating current and was made worse by the increase of television, computers and, most recently, mobile phones.”

“Jezebel!” Al Jinn trembled. “Doez that mean I need an operation. I hate operations.”

Eric leant back in his chair. “We just need to fully enclose you in metal. That’ll shield you from all the electromagnetic waves. I’ve got heaps of boxes to do that.”

“By Zoroastra, I owe you!”

“Three wishes will do.”

Al Jinn adjusted his turban. “Well, letz try one now. Washing machine, was it?” The genie clicked his fingers. A small spark dribbled out, fading on its way to the floor. He screwed up his face and clicked a second time. A hazy shape appeared then disappeared. “Getting there,” he muttered. Al Jinn concertinaed his whole body in concentration. For a third time, he clicked his fingers. A bundle of dirty clothes appeared.

“Oops, zat’s my washing.”

Lora held out a waistcoat. “To put in our old machine, I suppose?”

“I’m just too tired.” Al Jinn gave a giant yawn. “Put me in ze box.”

The genie retreated into the lamp and Eric enclosed it in a metal box. He also surrounded the box with a wire cage. “Double protection,” he said. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Hardly managing to sleep that night, they rose early the next day. Holding his breath, Eric rubbed the lamp. Al Jinn popped out. Big and solid, he bobbed about with excitement. “I can kizz you. I can hug you. I haven’t felt thiz good for centuries.”

Eric stepped back. “No kisses. Just a wish, thanks.”

“Easily.” With one click, a strong spark shot out of the genie’s fingers. A white box appeared. “There you are. Second time does it.” He puffed out with pride.

Lora opened the machine. “Good try but it’s got no insides.”

Al Jinn’s misty body turned a bright pink. “Oops, back in the box. Call me in a zentury or two.”

“But we can’t wait that long!” Lora cried.

Too late, the genie had retreated back into its shell. 

Early on the next day, Eric opened the metal cage inside the metal box and withdrew the lamp. “Ta da!” He rubbed the surface.

Al Jinn shot out. “I’m back! And…” He flicked his fingers. A gleaming washing machine appeared. 

Lora opened it. “Looks okay.” She plugged it in and tried a few dials. “It’s a start. The cold wash works.”

“Terrific!” Eric rubbed his hands. “Now for the other two wishes.”

“Other two?” Al Jinn bobbed with energy. “You’ve already had them.”

“We what?”

“That was your third washing machine.”

“Oh, no!” Eric felt cheated.

Lora, however, put her arms around him. “It’s probably best if we work for the things we want,” she said.

“Yeah.” Eric gradually relaxed. “I suppose.” He faced the billowing cloud. “But what about you? Do we pass you on?”
 
“Zoro, no. I am a flower of my time. I have fulfilled my obligations and now I have the strength to move on. After all, I am basically organic.”
 
With a chuckle, Al Jinn vacuumed back into the lamp. As they watched, the metal decomposed, vaporised and then vanished on the breeze.

“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,” Eric murmured.

“Never mind.” Lora kissed him. “There’re plenty more Op Shops.”

Eric’s face brightened. “And so there are! Why, if we found a female genie, we might even get a washing machine that works.”

-- Barry Rosenberg

Born in London in 1943, I moved to Australia in 1970 to do research in Artificial Intelligence. In 1975, I left to teach tai chi and yoga relaxation classes. In 1986, I became a Public Servant in Canberra. Since 1992, I have mainly worked at home as a picture framer and craftsman.

I began writing poetry in the 70s and one-act plays in the 80s. In the 90s, I began writing quirky stories. My works have appeared in a number of local anthologies or theatres. In 2008, my novel, Journey of a Shadow Puppet was short-listed in the Amazon Novel Breakthrough Competition and then made available on Amazon Books. In 2008, I won prizes in a number of short story competitions.

Since 1997, I have lived on the Sunshine Coast, Queensland with my artist wife, Judith. I’m fairly involved with sports.