Djinn and Tonic

DJINN AND TONIC
by Elizabeth M. Barr
September 2000

Maria glared at the stylish imitation Tiffany lamp on the shelf.

It was a perfectly normal, modern lamp. From the lightbulb socket to the electric cord, there was nothing in the least bit mysterious about it.

Except, of course, for the fact that someone inside was speaking. To a human, the words would have been almost inaudible, a subliminal call, but to Maria, it was as clear as her own voice.

Maria sighed and checked the pricetag. Twenty dollars was a small price to pay for the knowledge that it was out of circulation.

The house was empty when Maria got home, but she kew that her flatmates would begin returning soon. She locked her door carefully, ensured that the curtains were drawn and rubbed the lamp.

Nothing happened.

Maria frowned, wondering if, somehow she’d bought the wrong lamp.

"Woah … trippy," said a male voice behind her.

Maria turned around. Sitting on her bed was a young man. He seemed perfectly normal, apart from the spiral design tattooed on his wrist and the fact that he looked like a refugee from Woodstock, right down to the mud encrusted on his skin.

"Hello," she said cautiously. She knew it was stereotyping, but she’s expected a millennia-old Middle Eastern man, not this bemused young hippie who was leaving flakes of mud on her bed.

Maria sniffed surreptitiously. Marijuana clung to him like an aura.

"Woah," he said again. "Wow. Where am I?"

"Brisbane," she said shortly. She had no love for Djinns and little tolerance for stone young men who left mud on her bed, although she’d learnt to deal with them in the past few decades. "The year is 2000," she added, anticipating his next question.

"Aw man," he complained, looking over her cotton shirt and baggy green pants, "I’d hoped for somethin’ a little better. Somethin’ like Star Trek, y’know? Chicks in silver boots and guys with ears." He wandered over to the window and drew the curtain. "You don’t even have flying cars!"

"You’re a new Djinn, aren’t you?"

The young man looked up in surprise. "How’d you know?"

Maria held out a dainty brown foot and pointed to the spiral wrapped around her ankle. It was always present, no matter what form she took.

"You’re a genie too?" He cast a suspicious look at her computer, giving the box a tap.

"I’m a tribal spirit," Maria said. "Or rather, I was. The tribe’s gone."

"Bummer." He pulled out a CD, whistled at the photo of Courtney Love in a transparent dress and poked his tongue out at his reflection. "So you want me to bring your tribe back. Okay. I’m cool." He snapped his fingers, with a flourish, then stared at them as if he were surprised to find them attached to his hands. "I don’t think it worked. Am I broken?"

"I didn’t actually make a wish," Maria pointed out.

"Oh yeah. Forgot about that part."

"And I’m not going to be making any wishes," Maria continued.

"Why not?" He peered at Maria through his John Lennon glasses. "Hey, how old are you?"

"Old enough to know that Djinns are dangerous."

"War is dangerous. Guns are dangerous. Personal restriction is dangerous. But Djinns are—" he fell off the soapbox he’d been attempting to mount. "Cool," he finished.

Maria took a deep breath. "What’s your name?"

"Gandalf." Maria’s stare penetrated his pot-induced haze. "Paul," he admitted.

"And what made you decide you wanted to be a Djinn?"

"There was this guy. See, I was at Woodstock, and it was awesome. Except I’d run outta pot. And I hadn’t brought any money, ‘cos that’s capitalist and oppressive. Or at least, that’s what my girlfriend says. And I was really wishing I had some, and then this guy appeared, like, outta nowhere. And he offered me some pot, and I said, okay. And then he said, like, you want this lamp? I was cool with it, ‘cos it was all shiny and I thought maybe Wind’d like it. She’s my girlfriend. Her mom calls her Helen. And I rubbed the lamp, and there was this old guy inside, and I said, like, wow! And he said, ‘You’ve got three wishes," and I was like, wow all over again. So, I wished for a never-ending supply of pot, and for a drink of water, ‘cos I was thirsty. And then I wished to be like him. ‘Cos he was sorta cool, y’know, sharin’ love and wishes and stuff. And he laughed and said, okay, and he made me a genie and said there might be a wait before I became active. And here I am."

Maria sighed. The same old story. Even after thousands of years, she never ceased to be amazed at the human potential for gullibility.

"I have to free you," she said finally. She hated to inflict this irritating young man upon the world, but it was better than releasing a Djinn.

"Why? This is cool. I’m gonna live forever, man."

Maria exhaled sharply. "Did anyone tell you about our kind before they made an Immortal?"

"No. Or maybe he did … I don’t remember."

"That sounds about right," Maria mumbled. "I am part of a race which you would probably call Elves. We have certain powers over humanity, we have an extremely long lifespan and we are blessed – cursed – by a fascination with humans.

"Cool…"

"Many figures which would today be considered legendary or mythological are actually members of our race. Pixies. Driads…"

"Tribal spirits," he added, nodding at her. "But what about Djinns?"

"Every culture has Trickster legends. Many of my kind enjoy ‘playing’ with humans, for either benevolent or malicious purposes. Or selfish purposes. The original Djinn was a selfish and malicious Trickster. It granted humans’ wishes and laughed as they backfired. And when a human wishsed to become a Djinn, he granted that wish, and then laughed as they human realised that it would live in servitude until another fool made that same wish and replaced it. And so it has continued for thousands of years."

"Bummer deal," said Paul. "So when you good Elves come across a Djinn, you set it free?"

"Only if it’s willing."

"Cool. Personal freedom’s a good vibe."

"If it’s unwilling, we smash the lamp and kill the Djinn," Maria added.

"Oh." Paul stared at her for a long time. "You don’t look like a killer. You look like a teenage girl."

"Have you ever had a dog?"

"Yeah. But it was more of a partnership than an ownership deal."

"So you understand how a pet can seem intelligent. Almost human at times."

"Well … yeah."

"But if it went around savagely attacking other dogs, what would you do?"

Paul sighed. "I guess I’d take it away from other dogs, and people, and stuff. Or I’d have it put down. Maybe."

"Killing you wouldn’t make me happy. But you’re a danger to your own kind, and you don’t even realise it."

"I guess."

Maria heard footsteps upstairs. "My flatmates are home. You’d better decide now."

Paul shrugged. "I’m cool. I’ll be human."

Maria smiled. "Thankyou," she said with a deep sense of relief.

She reached out with her mind and twisted reality. The spiral tattoo disappeared from Paul’s wrist. She held out the box his lamp had come in. "Here’s the stuff you’ll be needing. Identification, some money … I’ve given you a flat a few suburbs from here, and you’ll be accepted into your choice of degree at the beginning of the next semester."

"Thanks."

"There’s also a guide to major events you should know about."

"Cool."

Maria led him out through the rarely-used back door.

"One question…" he added. Maria raised her eyebrows. "If humans are nothing but pets to you, how come you’re here?"

Maria shrugged. "You interest me. As a race, you’re capable of extreme stupidity. As individuals, you’re capable of remarkable achievements."

Paul grinned. "Cool."

END

Comments, opinions and chocolate: elizabeth_barr@yahoo.com.au