"Tell me, where do genies come from?” The two had been talking for a while. Sky did his best to delay the inevitable, the granting of his first wish. But this question in particular was something he was genuinely curious about.
“Why, where do you come from?” the air asked.
Sky shrugged, thinking the question irrelevant. He drank a sip of water from his bottle. “My parents?”
“Your parents? Of course you’d say that.” Sky heard the air chuckle. “Then I come from that lamp you’re holding.”
“That’s not fair,” contested Sky. “There are biological processes that dictate the creation of people.”
“The same way there are magical and mystical processes that dictate the creation of my kind,” answered the air.
Sky shook his head. “But it’s magic. It’s not concrete; it’s…”
“Arbitrary?” The air stirred, flowing through Sky’s ruffled short hair, and colder and colder the air became. Then it condensed and thickened to fog, blocking the peaceful sunset of Manila Bay from view. The fog gathered itself with purpose, like a conscious vacuum, until it resembled the shape of a man.
But the man had no face, only the shape of a face. No clothes, only the shape of clothes. And no legs, not even the shape of legs, only a ghastly tether that connected the man to the lamp in Sky’s hand.
“It’s not science, is what I’m saying,” said Sky. “It can’t explain things thoroughly or even justifiably.”
The genie floated around manically. Behind him, the orange sun tempted a dip into the horizon, painting the sea the color of fire. “Why? Does your science explain things so well?”
“That’s what it does, there’s a process to it. A method. The scientific method.”
“Okay, then how do things fall?” asked the genie.
Sky was baffled at the question. The answer was simple enough. “Gravity,” he said. “The mass of an object predicates the strength of its gravita—"
“No.” The genie floated in front of him, a teensy bit annoyed. “Why does gravity make things fall?”
Sky stared at the genie’s nonexistent eyes, not sure if there was anyone there who looked back at him. He shook his head. “It just does.”
The fog feigned a sly smile. “And here I thought science was so good at explaining things,” said the genie. “I work kind of like how gravity does. Gravity makes things fall because the universe says so, and I’m duty-bound to live in lamps and give the people who rub it three wishes because the universe says so too. The world works differently for us. I don’t make the rules. Believe me, if I did, it wouldn’t be this way.” He flew to the air, stretching his tether. Higher and higher he flew, stretching the tether some more, until poof, it broke. The genie was gone. But after a few seconds, the genie reappeared on the ground, tail still latched to the mouth of the lamp. “It wouldn’t be this way at all.”
Sky held out his hand, trying to touch the genie. But his fingers simply slid through him, and part of the fog parted. “Hey!” the genie exclaimed.
“Differently, huh? Tell me something I don’t know then, since you know so much,” said Sky.
The genie rubbed his chin. “Something you don’t know? There’s an infinite number of things that humans just don’t get right. Like, ah! Your perception of dimensions. You think space is infinite? Wrong! It’s definite and finite, and you’d be surprised what it looks like from the outside. And time. I have to say, I feel for you kid. You humans move and live your lives through time like it’s some sort of prison. It’s way less linear and more circular than it makes itself to be, you feel me? And then there’s—”
“Yeah, okay stop,” said Sky. He had a feeling that the genie wouldn’t have been able to prevent himself from rambling until the day ended and after that, and he was already making Sky’s head turn. “I have it.” He took another swig of water.
“You have what?” asked the genie.
Sky smiled. “My wish.”
“Oh great! What is it?”
Sky had always wanted a big family, maybe he could have wished for that. Or a house with a wooden walkway and a beautiful garden. He could have done that also. What came out of his mouth was something even he didn’t expect for himself. “I wish to die.”
He’d thought about it for a while now. What it would feel like to die, what it would be to die. Would it hurt? Would it be painful? Is there anything else beyond it? Is it just darkness?
The air in front of him responded accordingly. “What? You can’t be serious.”
“Yes, I am,” Sky concluded. He finished the last remaining ounces of water from his bottle, completely aware that he was out of line and out of his mind.
A gust of wind blew. “Okay you are definitely going to the crazy list.” A parchment made of fog appeared on the genie’s hand, accompanied with a pen made of fog. He wrote something on it, and a second later, it disappeared. “Now what’s your real wish?”
“Do you want me to repeat it? I wish to die,” said Sky.
“You’ll have to forgive me for my surprise. It is a highly irregular wish,” answered the genie.
“But not never occurring?”
The genie placed his finger on his temple, trying to remember something. “You’re not the first person who’s had enough of this world.”
“And I’m sure I won’t be the last.” Sky took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. But his effort had the opposite effect. He’d half-forgotten that Manila Bay smelled like dead rats and rotten trash.
Sky coughed, making the genie dissipate for a moment. But the genie recollected himself soon enough.
“No you won’t be,” said the genie. “But something tells me yo—“
“You haven’t granted any of those previous wishes, have you?” Sky faced the genie, and his fog-like state shifted sheepishly. The cold followed him as it went.
“Haven’t had the need to,” answered the genie from the back of Sky’s head. “They all waver in the end.”
Sky scoffed, ignoring the chill that shivered down his spine. “You haven’t or you can’t?”
Then the chill was gone. The genie snapped his fingers and he materialized into a real person. His smoky skin turned dark brown, and his face grew human features. His hazel eyes opened circular and wide. His lips were surrounded by gruff facial hair, and the hair on his head dropped to a few inches beneath his shoulders.
That intrigued Sky. Not the length of his hair, or the thickness, and with that the genie had plenty, but the color of it. The genie’s blue hair shone gloriously amid the setting sun’s light. He paced by the walkway near the shore, where the calm water lapped smoothly on the rocks beneath. He walked slowly, maybe to avoid falling. “It’s been a while,” he noted.
“So that’s what you really look like,” Sky observed.
The genie made a disgusted face. “This? Oh heavens no. Such a limiting form, this… this shell. I only use it when the need arises.” He slid his hand atop the stone barricades that separated the sea from the city and felt the dust that stuck to his fingers. “But it does have its merits.” He did a high jump, stretched his legs a bit, then faced Sky. “Oh, and whatever you do, do not rub that lamp again. I’d have to go through that whole tedious process and everything.”
Sky felt the weight of the bronze lamp that he held and how warm it was. It looked exactly how he expected a genie lamp would look like. And to stumble upon it there of all places. “So will you do it or not?”
“Fine, I will. But let me ask you just one thing.”
Sky shrugged. “What is it?”
“Why? What about your dreams of becoming a doctor?” It was the first time the genie looked genuinely concerned for him. Where before it was just simple annoyance or casual irreverence. “You’re just a twelve-year-old kid.”
“I don’t know.”
The genie snapped his fingers to summon a cup of what smelled like coffee. He took a brief sip. “Want some?” he asked.
“No thank you,” answered Sky. He was never really fond of coffee.
“That’s it?” The genie took another sip. “You don’t know your own reason?”
Sky let out a tense breath. “No, I mean, I guess I just want to know the answer. And if ever something is out there, or that if something is waiting for us on the other side, at least I’ll know. And I’ll know it peacefully and in my own terms. And if something does go wrong, I’ll still have you, right? You’re still duty-bound to two more wishes.”
“I guess you’re right.” The genie smiled at that. “You ready?”
“Wait,” Sky brought out a small piece of paper from his pocket. It was crumpled trash from school. On one side was Sky’s drawing of a brain. Not too shabby, not great either. The other side was blank. Perfect, he thought. He wrote on the paper, folded it, and placed it inside his now-empty plastic bottle before handing it over to the genie.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Give it to me when we meet again will you?”
The genie shifted his eyes from Sky, to the bottle, and back to Sky again. “That would have to count as a wish.”
“Come on, take it as a request. For me?”
The genie shook his head. “Fine. Are you ready now?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” answered Sky. Pretending not to be totally afraid.
The genie placed his middle finger and thumb together. “You have no idea what happens to you, do you?”
“No,”
“Do you want to know?”
“Do you know?”
“Yeah.”
“Then no.”
And the genie snapped his fingers.
2007
Half-asleep, Alex stumbled out of her room to the sound of her three brothers and her parents scrambling to get ready for school and work. Footsteps ran up and down the wooden stairs, doors kept closing and opening, and in the kitchen, something was frying. Whatever that something was, it smelled good.
The sun was barely out, but Alex knew her way around the house perfectly. With one hand, she kept herself balanced on the wall, and with the other, she rubbed her eye vigorously. As long as Mom wasn’t looking. Mom always said it was a bad habit of hers.
One of her brothers, Francis, she thought, tripped on the hallway rug, making his glasses fall from his face. He didn’t bother picking it up. He was in too much of a hurry. Alex yawned.
She managed to find her way to the dining table, and she sat on one of the wooden chairs. Her usual chair. She sat there for a while doing nothing, until she felt sleepy again and decided to put her head on the surface of the table. She dazed for a bit.
Today, Alex could take her sweet time. It was test week for the preschoolers, which meant that in each day of the week, there would be a designated subject the students will be taking their tests on. And if you’re lucky to have your grades for a subject high enough, you’d be exempted from a test. The subject today was science, the parts of the body to be specific, and Alex was a natural expert at that. She didn’t have to go to school.
When she woke, her drool lined her forearm. It stunk, but it was a comforting kind of stink.
How long had she been asleep? Not too long, she hoped. She wanted to make the most out of the day by playing her console games. She raised her head.
The house was quiet, empty. The smell of coffee still lingered. For some reason, Alex never really liked that smell. She tried to whiff it away.
Apart from the chirping birds outside, there was no other noise but of her own breathing. Sunlight slithered between the curtains and through the windows. It was morning sunlight, which meant that Alex hadn’t yet wasted the day. Good.
But then there was a hurried knocking on the door.
Alex cautiously stood from her chair and moved towards the front door. “Who is it?” she asked.
No answer.
She stepped closer to the door, uncomfortably unsure as to who was the one on the other side. There was a one-sided peep hole at the door though, Alex could use that.
But when she reached it, the peep hole was too high up. She couldn’t see though it even if she tip-toed.
The knocking resumed. DUG DUG DUG.
“Who is it!” repeated Alex.
“It’s me!” a familiar voice said. “Alex, it’s me, Sam.”
Phew. Alex unlocked the door, and Sam burst inside holding his stomach. He went straight to the bathroom.
Across the garden by the street, the family car was parked. Dad sat on the driver’s seat, and Mom waved to Alex from the front passenger’s seat. “Hi good morning!” said Mom.
“Morniiing!” Alex waved back.
“Hey! Don’t forget to water the garden ah!” Mom said.
Alex nodded. “I will!” She took a few steps into the garden, plucked a flower, and she smelled it. It smelled like nothing, but Alex wanted to pretend that it did. And in pretending, it smelled like the best thing in the world.
From behind her, the sound of a toilet flushing echoed across the hallway. Sam emerged from the bathroom and dashed straight out. “Thanks Alex.” He rubbed her head. Alex likes it when Sam does that.
She locked the door and went back inside the house.
But after a few seconds, there was another knock. A softer, calmer knock. “Alex it’s me!”
She opened the door again, and inside came Daniel. “I forgot my lunch,” he said, laughing all the way from the doorway to the kitchen and back.
“Aren’t you in a hurry?” asked Alex. They were. She could see the family urging Daniel to get in the car immediately.
“Yeah,” he answered, laughing again. “It’s just funny is all.” His slow walk broke into a slow jog when he reached the outside of the house. Alex could hear Mom’s shouts from where she stood.
Once again, she locked the door. Hoping that no one else would come through.
But only after a few seconds, the knocking came back. Again?
“Alex, open up!” a crackling voice said.
She knew exactly who that crackling voice belonged to. She unlocked the door for a third time and in came pimple-faced Francis.
“I misplaced my glasses!” he exclaimed, waving his hands over his head in cartoonish misery. “Have you seen them?”
“I think those are yours.” She pointed to the exact spot where his glasses were. They were still there.
Francis though, wasn’t quite sure. He squinted and neared the object on the floor, until he was about two feet away. He picked it up and wore it as soon as he recognized what it was.
“Thank you, little sis!” He hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Francis ran out of the house, inadvertently slamming the door with his excitement. Now that’s done. Finally, she locked the door and proceeded to her own business.
Alex walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of milk. She made sure to put ice in the glass so it’s extra cool. Nothing beats a cold glass of milk.
She took out some bread and slapped in some of her favorite peanut butter and jelly fillings to it. She sliced the bread diagonally in the middle to make triangle sandwiches. One of her favorite simple breakfast meals. And the best part was, she could make some of those all by herself!
But when she was about to take a bite, there was knocking again.
“Wait upp,” she beckoned. She walked to the door and opened it. Only to find that the person at the other end of the door wasn’t her brother, not Mom, not even Dad. It wasn’t anyone she knew.
The wind made itself in, sending chills down Alex’s spine. It grew cold suddenly, but she tried not to shiver in front of the girl at the doorway. “Hi there,” Alex said. “How can I help—"
“I finally found you,” the girl interrupted. She was about Alex’s age. Brown skin and round hazel eyes, the girl made her way into the house.
Alex didn’t try to stop her. Mom and Dad always said to never let strangers inside, but she never wanted to fight anyone. Besides, something inside her gut told her that the girl wouldn’t hurt her. She wouldn’t dare try.
The girl had clothes of eccentric, even electric colors of red, white, yellow, and violet. She wore a coat lined with red fur, that looked way to big for her own body. She wore yellow rainboots for her feet that went up to her thighs. Between the coat and the boots, she had white and violet pants, one color of each side.
But Alex didn’t find any of that weird. Her brother Daniel always watched fashion shows where extremely serious-looking people would wear the strangest outfits, like costumes. Alex figured the girl had a thing for costumes.
What was weird was her hair, or the color of it anyway. From the root to the tip, the girl’s hair was blue. It was a deep and happy blue, the shade of the sky. It wasn’t a costume. It was all natural all the way through. She had never seen a more beautiful color.
Alex poked the girl’s shoulder. “Who are you?” she asked.
“A friend, I think.” The girl gave Alex a well-creased empty bottle of water with a folded piece of paper inside. “Here.”
“This is for me?” asked Alex, pertaining to the bottle.
The girl answered, “Yeah. It is.”
“From who?”
“From you.” The girl smiled. “Go on.”
Alex uncapped the bottle and removed the note inside. She unfolded the paper, which was way more crumpled than it initially seemed.
The paper contained nothing but a single statement. Hi, it read. Below it, a person named Sky signed at a date that has yet come to pass, November 18, 2019. She flipped the paper to a well-sketched drawing of a brain.
“Oh, by the way,” the girl sounded, handing Alex a bronze lamp that seemed to radiate. “You have two more to go.”
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