This is the second short genie story I’ve written. The first was a genie dungeon heist. In this second instalment, Fred the genie has hidden himself in a pet shop.
The Pet Shop
Fred sat and scratched the back of his head. Existence as a dog was not bad. One of his companions clattered into him, nipping at his ears. Fred ignored the other dog, preferring to hunt down an itch whizch had been bothering him. He tried sighing when he caught it just right, but his canine larynx limited him to a whimper.
With exceptional awareness for a dog, Fred contemplated how he had arrived at this point. Time had stretched out, a long, never-ending torment. For many years, he had been trapped in a tiny bell hanging below a budgie’s mirror. For quite a while he believed the bell to be a pleasant home, allowing him to avoid bother by humans and their greed. Yet, sometimes he thought he would go mad from the incessant ringing caused by the preening of the pea-brained birds. Of course, madness was not an option, not an effective measure of his type. For Fred was old, much too old for regular measures of sanity, as applied by sentient creatures.
He stretched, enjoying the luxury of the spacious pen. Not too many dogs shared the space, and from bitter experience, he was used to being cramped. A woman had set him free when visiting the shop, not even noticing as she released him from the bell. Fred had thumbed his nose at the usual convention, waiting until the woman and all the humans left, before leaving his hiding place. Foolish people thought he had no independence, but he did. Once the shop fell silent, he had taken the form of a little toy dog. The tiny yapping creatures appeared content in their pen. He hid among them and luxuriated in the freedom of the puppy pen.
The next day, the humans failed to notice an additional dog for sale. Fred experienced no disappointment, spending his time sleeping and playing with the other puppies. He was fed up with humans. They were single-minded in their pursuit of what he could provide them. Well, three versions of that same thing. As a result, he now went to great lengths to avoid them and their selfish foolishness, hence the bell dangling from the budgie’s mirror. Humans could not be understood, and he would not waste any more of his time trying. He still remembered his existence before homo-sapiens began bothering him. Life had been simpler and easier in those days, with little need to hide. Fred had therefore resolved to wait for another dominant species to evolve, which he would attempt to understand. These humans required too much effort. Of course, he might wait a long time as humans did not seem to tolerate other intelligent life. They were also hurrying towards their own extinction, intent on taking large swathes of nature with them. Maybe he would have the world to himself again, along with his kin, if any remained.
Until then, he would carry on as before. Avoid the humans, and when forced, give them what they demanded. Of course, they were never overjoyed with their heart’s desire. This dissatisfaction was the primary reason Fred disliked the species. Humans did not know what they craved, and when they achieved a basic articulation, they always seemed miserable with what he provided for them. He would then get the blame, even if he had delivered as they demanded. Perhaps the dolphins would be better masters if they survived the death-spiral of humanity long enough to evolve further.
‘That one’s perfect,’ the woman said.
Fred opened one eye. The woman who had released him from the bell stood there. He blinked and then closed the eye, hoping she would leave instead of leaning over the low wall to peer at him. He did not know why she was back. As long as she did not say the words, he could ignore her. If she went away, he would not have to follow her, at least, he thought that may be the case. He had never tried to find out before, and did not know how far she had travelled since his release from the bell.
‘Yes, that’s the one.’
The vast human hands picked him up. His little heart skipped a beat, bladder almost giving way with the instinctual fear of a small creature being picked up by an animal large enough to crush it. Damn, she had selected him. So much for his plan to ignore her.
‘Oh, he’s so cute,’ the enormous face squealed with delight before it nuzzled into his snout. She made cute baby noises, which made him want to vomit in disgust. ‘Who’s a cutesy little doggie then?’
He licked her face. A warm, fuzzy sensation suffused him. He did it again. He was disgusted with himself. Fred never understood why someone would allow an animal to lick their face. He still did not understand it, but the sensation was as natural as any he had experienced. His tail wagged without his conscious permission. What was this traitorous, animalistic instinct? He did not like humans. He had been hiding from them for years. With diminishing nausea, he yapped and licked the woman’s ear. He could not describe how the warmth spread through his chest.
‘I’ll take him.’ The woman took her purse out of her bag.
‘He suits you so well. What will you call him?’ the pet shop assistant asked.
‘Hmm, I think I’ll call him Precious.’
Really? Fred objected, or was it Precious, as he was now known. The details of the exchange penetrated his canine happiness. Yet, his worries dissolved as his new owner tucked him into the warm fold of her overcoat, held close against the warmth of her chest. She scratched his ears as he peered out at the world. He did not want to enjoy this attention, but his heart leapt inside him. He damned his decision to become a dog. The annoyance disappeared at the end of her tickling fingers. This canine form was a much better choice than some of his previous disguises.
The Reality Show
As the weeks passed, Precious forgot his identity, immersed as he was in the present. The luxurious and bright apartment was full of extravagant furniture. It was strange calling this home, but he loved how his mistress spoilt him. He had no worries and no fears, yet something troubling rumbled around at the back of his skull. He could not put his finger, or rather, his claw, upon it. The thought was slippery. Whenever he had the idea pinned down, it slipped away like a diaphanous material, evaporating as he concentrated. Yet, this elusive concern was not enough to destroy his calm. Nor did it unsettle him, at least not until he heard her speaking on that fateful day.
‘I wish I was still on a reality TV show, one of those that follows every step of your life. I adored being famous, people loved watching me,’ his owner said down the telephone. ‘It’s not been the same since then. People just aren’t so interested in me these days.’
There they were, those two words. His heart almost stopped, and he dropped his hind-quarters on the luxury wood laminate kitchen floor. These words could not be ignored, words which compelled him. Contract or not, he had to act. He could not help himself, even if he wanted to. This was the concern he had been failing to grasp, the knowledge he existed for plenty more than on demand whimpering and cuteness.
Fred shed his Precious persona.
Anyone watching would have noticed the small dog tilting its head at its owner, as if hoping for a treat. Fred summoned his powers, the once familiar sensation now unusual, confined within his slight form. He had no intention of revealing his true self, even a form truer to himself. He enjoyed being a dog. His powers would just have to discharge from this tiny shape. Besides, if she did not recognise what he was about to do for her, perhaps there would be no further wishes to bother him.
An external observer would have hoped for a momentous sign. Maybe a window bursting open and a brisk wind flapping the curtains; or a flash, followed by a thunderous crash. For a moment, Fred considered levitation. He enjoyed levitating, but worried his fur would spike with the static of the power emanating from him. Levitation was also somewhat conspicuous. Instead, he settled upon a subtle glint in his left eye, lasting a fraction of a second. The most careful of observers would have spotted the sparkle, but such a person was a true rarity.
Millions watched that extraordinary moment as it featured in the launch night edited highlights section. The clip featured among the first moments of the new reality television programme. Yet, a woman in northern Italy spotted the glint in the small dog’s eye and recognised the hidden depths of power. The rest of humanity just observed a cute dog gazing with affection at its owner as she complained to a friend about the decline of her celebrity status. What a perfect way to introduce a new reality TV programme, one in which the star was unaware she was being broadcast.
Within seconds of the start, the internet was abuzz with theories and counter-theories. How long would the broadcaster be able to keep the show secret from the star? Would it be impossible to manage a show where the star could go anywhere, with complete spontaneity? Most people wanted to learn the answers to questions of this nature. This show would not be like the Hollywood movie in which a man was entrapped in a vast recording studio for his entire life. The producers had promised they would limit the stage management of their star’s life. There had indeed been promises of cash for members of the public who played along with the spectacle, helping to keep the secret from the star. Whether the experiment would be successful, the general population remained uncertain. However, the audience were now sitting on the edge of their seats.
Fred settled down again, lying with his front paws blocking out the light, discomforted by the disruption of his doggie role. He had been enjoying the carefree life. Yet, the words of command had been said. Now all the excitement was over, Fred became Precious once again. He sneezed. His heart skipped a beat. He had just created the inspiration for a plague of cute small dog sneezing memes, which would infest the internet in their millions. However often he tried to settle, Precious knew what was going to come next. The same thing happened every time with boring predictability. The human became annoyed with Fred’s precise contributions and could not understand how he had followed literal instructions. He could not help it.
Modern humans even had a label for people who understood and acted with a similar literalism to himself. He recognised there was more to it than the simple reductionism of the humans, but he fit the label very well. Precious preferred this modern label, which proved rather better than the usual swear words thrown at him across the ages. He reflected back to the decade after that vast war which had spilled out of Europe. It had been such fun tormenting the young Dr Asperger during his long walks in the days before the young man went to medical school. It was quite amusing that Asperger’s name was now used to describe the nearest human equivalent to his own thought processes.
The Boyfriend
Precious observed the signs over the next weeks. His mistress carried him everywhere with her. He spotted subtle indications, such as people undertaking double-takes, often while glancing at his mistress. Sometimes, complete strangers stopped her in the department store seeking an autograph, or even just her opinion on current fashions. His owner enjoyed the resumption of her fame, but never questioned the cause of her comeback. As far as her opinion mattered, a wrong had righted itself and she did not need to worry about the whys or wherefores of the situation. She possessed a natural entitlement, a certainty she was again destined to be the centre of attention in any situation.
Saboteurs were set upon revealing the entire plot of the hit reality television show to Precious’s owner. Some of these people believed themselves crusaders, attempting to set free a woman suffering systematic abuse at the hands of an uncaring media and voyeuristic society. These rescuers seemed to all read a certain liberal newspaper and be engaged in many other well-meaning causes. Precious found himself amused that some of these well-intentioned saboteurs rated rescuing his mistress alongside saving endangered animals or glueing themselves to motorways. If eons of existence had shown him anything, it was that a certain Charles Darwin had been on the right track. If an animal could not survive, the species would become extinct. These do-gooders were wasting their time with the natural world, and on saving his mistress.
Selfish saboteurs were more dangerous, seeing an opportunity to achieve their own personal fame or notoriety. Within this group, the most dangerous individuals comprised those who sought to resolve their own deep-seated issues on the world at large. Fred had come across many of these people over the eons. Many had ended up in horrible predicaments as the result of the delivery of their wishes. This attention seeking group came from a wide variety of different backgrounds, and most shared a desire to sacrifice anyone, their own mothers included, to achieve their goals. Whatever the case, Precious rarely caught wind of this later category of people around his owner. But when he did, his canine senses alerted him: a smell, a sound or a distant glimpse of someone being hustled aside by the production company’s security team. If Precious had not forsworn the use of his other powers, beyond that of his heightened intellectual abilities, he would have been far more aware. A localised omnipresence could be useful, but did not fit with his current disguise. As things stood, his mistress had far less awareness of the subterfuge than he did. After all, she found herself centre stage on the biggest reality television show ever, the greatest media circus since an ageing musician had been reported as eating a bat on stage, or another had declared himself more famous than an alleged Messiah. Come to think of it, his mistress would have been at home among the second group of saboteurs. She might not have sacrificed her Precious for fame, but she would slay her mother, and any children she had not yet had.
‘He’s what?’ She demanded into the mobile phone, holding the whole device right in front of her face. She had not turned on the speaker, the additional volume not needed in the quiet apartment.
Her tone disturbed Precious. He awoke with a start from his gentle dream of chasing small animals around the living room, seizing and gutting them, before splattering their innards over the marble finish fireplace. He was disappointed as the bloodthirsty dream faded.
Somewhere, far away, someone responded at length. The muted noises came from the headphones she had just put on, but he could not make out the words with his feeble canine ears. He could listen in if he wanted to, but he would then have to draw on his other senses, the ones he was neglecting in this form.
‘I don’t believe you,’ his owner interrupted. ‘He couldn’t have done it. There’s no way he could have. We’re talking about me. Like, you know. Why would he want to give me up? He’s just so superficial.’
Precious trotted across the expansive kitchen floor. His owner waved the phone around. She hacked the address of a popular gossip website into the smart screen, stabbing at a link with such aggression the smartphone at first refused to cooperate.
‘I’m looking at it right now,’ she said over the open line. ‘Hmm, yes. The bastard! How could he?’
Precious sat down, ready to enjoy the entertainment.
His mistress went silent for several seconds as the other person spoke. Tears flowed, and she grabbed a tissue from the counter top. She always kept the box there, often needing it at the slightest prompt. Precious could tell this call was not good news.
‘But he told me he loved me,’ she said, sobbing. ‘There’s no way he could have cheated on me. Who would cheat on me? Does he know who he’s cheating on? How dare he cheat on me?’
Her sobs subsided, and she again listened to the person on the other end of the call. She paced across the wide kitchen space, a rigidity in her movement. Precious watched in silence. He got up and moved to the side of the room. She might not notice him with all of her attention on the conversation and the phone screen, which she continued to hack at. He did not want to risk tripping her up. It would hurt them both.
‘I know. Who does he think he is? Just because I’ve been dating him these last few weeks, he doesn’t have the right to go to the magazines. Oh, he is so dumped! He did what? With that slut?’
She grabbed another tissue, blowing her nose on it. She slapped the countertop and hysterical tears began.
Several minutes passed before she calmed. Precious used the time to visit his enamel water bowl for a refreshing drink. He would need a walk soon if he drank much more. He did not bother his mistress. Her anger now rose to the fore, giving her a focus previously missing during the depths of her despair.
‘He’s so going to regret it. I’m famous, I’m a celebrity, he’s just nothing. You know what? He’s a model, a pretty boy who wears pretty clothes, he’s nothing. There’re thousands of others like him, no millions. There’s absolutely no way I’m going to stand by and let him take advantage of me.’ She stopped talking and listened to the other person again. ‘Yes, that’s right, I’ll go after him. You put in those calls for me. Yes, if they’ll pay me enough, I’ll sell them my side of the story, but make sure you get a good price. I’m going to enjoy this and it’s going to pay me well. I wish the bastard was a long, long way away, pretty much as far away as he can go.’
The power grew. Precious could no longer focus on the rest of what his mistress said. She had commanded him, he had to obey. He concentrated hard, drawing from the depths of his true strength. Hidden cameras were concealed all over the room. Millions were following the live feed, the word having gone out over the internet that something was happening. If he did not take care, people would spot him should he compromise any part of his form. And he needed the toilet. He had drunk too much. His mistress may be oblivious to her role at the centre of the biggest reality television show in history, but he knew. He knew he even had his own fans and obsessives across the globe. They watched his every move, not just through the broadcast television show but via the multitude of accessible live internet feeds. If just one person spotted a change in him, he would be at risk. Some would want to exploit his powers, others would have even worse ideas.
As the Precious persona dropped into his subconscious, Fred arose, the static power surrounding him, his limited canine form stretching at the seams. His hair rose with the static discharge of his supernatural powers. A firm, controlling thought laid his fur back down. Some nearby cutlery vibrated, a gentle rattling at first, but the noise grew before he realised the effect. He controlled himself and the cutlery ceased rattling. He experienced a joy in unleashing his full powers, but could not risk exposure.
A glint showed in his eye. Fred allowed himself this small luxury. No harm had been done last time.
A woman in Italy, watching the celebrity circus on the internet, spotted the glint. In her mind, her suspicion was confirmed. She knew what the small dog was and rushed to book herself onto the first flight she could find.
A trip to Mars
‘He’s what?’ his mistress shrieked. ‘What do you think you’re talking about?’ She sat down and in a single gulp knocked back the glass of Prosecco she held. She slammed the phone down on the breakfast counter and poured another glass, drinking it all despite the bubbles fizzing in her mouth. Through her bluetooth headphones, she heard the explanation.
Precious rolled onto his side, exhausted by all the drama and wanting to cool off on the floor.
‘But that’s me. I’m the reality star, not him,’ she paused and listened to the response from the other end of the call. ‘What do you mean he’s going to Mars?’ She poured a third glass as she listened to the explanation, burping from the sudden buildup of gas within her.
‘That production company has been talking about a Mars project for years. They’ve never got proper backing for the project, no-one’s even given it serious consideration. Who would put a reality TV production on Mars? No-one has even been there, have they?’
As she spoke, the marketing team at a certain production company rubbed their hands with glee. They had known it would be a coup if they could make her announce their new show to the world. Getting her boyfriend signed up was the perfect move. What a success, getting free advertising on the biggest television show ever.
‘It’ll take them years to get him there and then there’s the chance no-one will ever come back. Besides, what’s the format? “Billy, you’ve been evicted, suck vacuum.” I don’t think so,’ she said trying to mimic the voice of a famous reality show announcer. ‘I don’t believe it. He can’t go. He’ll become a bigger star than me.’
Precious recognised she did not consider her boyfriend a separate identity from her. Fulfilling a role in the drama of her life, she possessed no genuine commitment to the model. Millions of people reached the same conclusion at more-or-less the same time. This was one reason many people watched the show. They loved seeing her selfishness.
‘What!?’ she snapped at the latest reply down the line, half burping up another hurried glass of Prosecco. She poured more, but found the bottle almost empty. ‘How much? He can’t be getting paid that much!’
She took a fresh bottle from the fridge and removed the cork.
His mistress spent days annoyed. The first thing upsetting her was her ex-boyfriend’s newfound celebrity status. Of course, the boyfriend had already been famous, otherwise, she would not have dated him. In her opinion, the ungrateful bastard needed to display eternal gratitude, and under no circumstances should he ever eclipse her.
Time passed with Precious’s mistress finding herself placed to one side of the growing media circus around her former boyfriend and his impending flight to Mars. This would be the genesis of a new production. A launch, a long flight, all of it broadcast, as the contestants got to know each other.
During this time, she grew jealous, but she also became aware not everything in life was as it seemed. Her suspicions were pricked when she spotted a colourful banner attached to someone’s wall along her daily route to the gym. Precious, tucked safe and warm in the fold of her over-large cardigan, listened to her talking about it with a friend over an expensive coffee in an upmarket café. The banner bore his mistress’s name and proclaimed her awesomeness as a reality television star. His mistress lacked skill at spotting subtle details, but she fastened upon the word ‘being’, recognising the author’s comment on her current situation rather than her past fame.
In Precious’ opinion, the producers of the show grew sloppy and missed the banner. Prior to this incident, they managed the immediate vicinity around his owner with clinical expertise. Perhaps the person behind the banner had timed their display of the artwork to avoid the security sweeps which always travelled ahead of his mistress. It would not be too hard for someone to work out the timings of her movements. Her schedule, and live location, could always be found on the internet. To be honest, he was surprised something like this had not happened before.
She had grown suspicious. Not just over the wording, but because her dedicated fans had never treated her like this before. A couple of days later, a similar banner appeared during a run in the park with her personal trainer. The trainer’s response caught her attention this time. The man fumbled around for a way to react before going bright red and running off. Precious wished he took part in the business of remote curses, as he would have made sure the personal trainer suffered for upsetting his mistress so.
The final nail in the coffin came from one of the high probability risks identified by the showrunners. By the time it happened, they had strung her along for so long, to the delight of the producers. She played her part to perfection, too self-absorbed and dramatic to notice the plot enfolding her, despite her growing suspicions. The moment of revelation occurred as she found one, and then more, of the hidden cameras planted around her house.
The cameras would fool no one who looked, they were obvious in location and disguise. Cameras were concealed in the tiniest drilled holes in furniture, the walls and ceiling; others could be found in appliances, ornaments and other assorted nick-nacks. She revealed one when she kicked the kitchen skirting board too hard, following a flash temper over a spilt health drink. The skirting board came away, and as she tried reattaching the board to the bottom of the cupboard, she found a set of wires and a narrow pencil-thin camera. She recognised the device. As a celebrity, she always worried about being spied upon, so over time she had developed a basic familiarity with the tools which could be used.
The production company cut all the live-feeds to the internet. They would milk her discovery for everything they could. They knew the project would soon be over and the highlights of the next few hours would become the most valuable media from the entire project. People would want to pay to see what happened next. The marketing team hit the telephones, lining up premium corporate sponsors for the most expensive advertising slots on the imminent final live show. They would reveal all to the subject in this last instalment, and a vast global audience would hang on every word.
She hung up, having placed her call to the police. She took a deep breath, embarking on a quick, but thorough scan of the kitchen, spotting another camera in the ceiling. The hiding place was obvious now she recognised what she was searching for. Within minutes, she found a camera attached to the control panel of her new microwave and another in a false compartment at the bottom of a food storage container. Then she found one more, this one tiny, sat in a pot next to one of the many fake plants she scattered around her home.
She hyperventilated. Someone, perhaps a tabloid newspaper, had been spying on her.
You are live on TV, please do not swear.
A knocking sounded at the door. Precious barked. He could not help himself. Some canine instinct drove him to it, even if his fearsome bark came out as a weak ‘yap’. He should have adjusted that. He could have sounded like the largest and most fearsome dog that ever lived. It would be easy. He had once met such a dog. If he had sounded fearsome at this moment, he would have given himself away. He liked his mistress and did not want to be revealed. Perhaps it was her shallow vainness he liked, which allowed him to overlook the normal irritations humankind caused him. Yet, even with her, he struggled to read her emotions and thoughts, although she made things easier with her complete openness. She still had one wish and until then, he remained bound to her. Should he not be tied, he suspected he would stay. To experience this affection for a human was rare for him.
The knock sounded again and his mistress rushed over, avoiding him as he yapped around her feet. As the door opened, she let out a scream as she recognised the famous presenter before her. A thud followed as she hit the ground, the surprise having overwhelmed her.
The presenter rushed in, along with a small entourage who gathered around their fallen star. In case of such an emergency, a first-aider was present. The man administered smelling salts. The police had never arrived, with the production company intercepting the emergency call and activating a planned endgame contingency for the show. They sent their excitable star presenter, the one famous for being flustered and loud, even though on this occasion they had dragged her out of a late-night yoga session.
‘What? What?’ Her voice was raspy after the powerful stimulant.
Precious became irritated by the first-aider, who kept pushing him away from his mistress. If the man did it one more time, Precious knew what he would do.
Who were these people? Who were the culprits? Who were the perpetrators? She had not known. Precious knew these questions flooded his mistress’s mind. He was in her head, reading her thoughts. Could they be the Police, with some elaborate sting to reveal her half-forgotten drug habit of a few years prior; perhaps they were the tax authorities; maybe even organised criminals were selling images of her on darker parts of the internet? By the time the doorbell had sounded, her fantasies, fuelled by the discovery of even more cameras, had elaborated a story featuring the US and Russian spy agencies. Could these people be the CIA or the FSB?
‘Sher’Me, you are live on TV, please do not swear,’ the famous presenter said as the star sat up, her wits staggering back to her.
‘What? It was you? You’re the ones who’ve been watching me?’
‘Congratulations! You’re the biggest star since, well since, John Lennon,’ the presenter announced.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Sher’Me, for the past six months, we have been following your every move. You have been the star of the biggest reality TV show in history. We have globally broadcast every part of your life, and you know what?’
‘What?’ Sher’Me shook her head, confused by the revelations following her sudden return to consciousness.
‘The public love you!’ The presenter screeched, jumping up and down, before helping Sher’Me to her feet, following an urgent reminder from the producer via her earpiece.
Precious moved out of the way of all these tall and excited humans. With all the stomping around, he might have been trampled. This occasion showed how his limited stature was a hindrance, however, as the two protagonists moved to the bar stools beside the kitchen island, his mistress picked him up and hugged him.
The interview progressed and even Precious recognised his mistress’s unhappiness. It was her tone. Even though Precious did not always follow the subtle nuances of human voices, he could tell. The fight had gone out of her. Then there was the tight grip which she had on him, and the constant petting, as she sought to reassure herself. If he still did not trust his ears to pick up on human vocal inflexions, he trusted his sense of touch. He wondered about her unhappiness.
After what seemed an age, the interview wound down. All Sher’Me’s dreams had come true, but happiness eluded her, her words confirmed what Precious had always known; granted wishes did not bring happiness. His mistress realised the consequences of the immense intrusion into her life, the interview had done nothing to allay her growing fears.
‘So, where do you go from here?’ the celebrity interviewer asked. Her producer chattered in her ear, trying to draw out a few last memorable moments in the most viewed live interview in history.
‘I’m not sure. I’m not really comfortable. I wish.’ She swallowed. ‘I wish people weren’t watching me any more. This, this is not what I wanted.’
Fred heard the words. If Sher’Me had not been holding him tight, he would have leapt into the air with surprise. He had not been expecting those words, not right now. His canine persona fell away with an instinct born of the eons. His mistress’s unhappiness extended to the first wish he had granted her. He sighed. He had failed her. The second wish about her ex-boyfriend had failed to bring her happiness. She had established it during many telephone calls. This last wish, he would make sure he got this one right.
The interviewer asked her what she meant, why she would not want to embrace this fame. The answer the interviewer received amounted to emotional chaos, a reply also full of resentment at the intrusion. She realised fame cost too much.
Her distraction meant Sher’Me did not notice the sudden tension in her pet. Fred allowed the power to cascade. He would put an end to this now. He had been commanded and once he delivered upon this third wish, he would be free from all demands. There was a limpness in his legs. He liked this human. She did not confuse him as much as the others did. Yet, even for her, he could not bring happiness through her wishes. He resolved to stay with her, even though he would no longer be bound.
No-one watched him this time. Every camera in the room focused upon the emotional and crumpled face of the reality television star and the celebrity interviewer. The cameras which had remained undiscovered, were switched off and no longer broadcasting. If the cameras had pointed at Fred, they would have at first seen a glint of power. However, this time he did not hold back, his power spreading from him into energy spectrums humans could not perceive. The camera operator tapped his portable camera as the power failed and the screen went blank. He dropped it to the floor as the device issued a sudden stream of blue sparks. The hidden cameras in the room sparked and made popping noises, some of them in places Sher’Me had not yet found.
‘What’s going on?’ the interviewer asked, tapping her now dead earpiece and waving at the cameraman, unsure if they were still connected to their off-site producer. ‘Are you there? Bill, can you hear me?’
Fred barked and leapt from his mistress’s arms. All the attention in the room focused on him, a dog spooked by the sudden noise and sparks.
‘Where is she? Where’s she gone?’ the interviewer asked, shock in her voice turning to fear as she looked around the room. She could no longer perceive Sher’Me, her prized celebrity having disappeared while the dog distracted them.
‘She was right next to you when the dog started yapping,’ the first-aider said. ‘Now she’s gone. She couldn’t have got out, she must be hidden somewhere in here.’
‘What the hell is going on?’ the sound-boom operator asked, panic clear in her voice. ‘She’s disappeared! She’s literally disappeared! I was looking at her, there one second, gone the next.’
More sparks came from the sound recording equipment and the operator threw it to the floor saying, ‘I don’t like this. I’m getting out of here.’
A spice rack fell over and a mug flew through the air, smashing against the wall.
‘Film it!’ the presenter pointed at a bowl hovering in the air. A knife levitated next to the earthenware, just above the counter. The entire crew either began screaming or swearing. They all rushed to the exit. Only the interviewer remained, but she was no longer prepared to stand face-to-face against such supernatural activity without the backup of a camera crew and a potential award for documenting the experience. When the knife advanced in her direction, she ran.
‘What’s going on?’ Sher’Me asked herself. ‘One minute I was sitting there, and everyone could look at me, and the next I’ve disappeared. I can’t see myself, not even my hands in front of my face.’
‘That’s because you’re invisible,’ Fred said, his voice deep and booming. The voice did not hint at the tiny fleshy space he occupied. There was no-one else present and every recording device was disabled.
‘Who’s that?’ she asked from the counter.
‘It’s me, Precious,’ he said as he trotted into the kitchen area. She might be invisible to humans, but not him, and he wasn’t even using his genie senses.
‘What?’ she asked, terror filling her voice.
‘I said it’s me, Precious, your pet dog.’
‘Precious? My pet dog?’ she said, confused. How could her little dog be talking to her? It must be some trick, some further twist to the reality show.
‘Yes, your pet dog. Except I’m not really a dog. I look like one. It’s a pretty good disguise. Actually, I love it, but I am what you might call a genie,’ Fred said. It relieved him to reveal this to his mistress at last, even though she was no longer his mistress since he had granted her three wishes.
‘A genie? As in lives in lamp and grants three wishes type of genie?’
‘Almost. I don’t live in a lamp, in fact I live in your house. And the three wishes, well, you are right.’
‘But you’re a dog. I bought you from the pet shop?’
‘Yes, it’s a great disguise.’
‘But I didn’t release you from a lamp or anything like that. Isn’t that how it works? And what about the three wishes?’
‘Well, I was living in a bell for a while, and I can tell you it was cramped. You released me from it. And as for the three wishes, you’ve had them all.’
‘What do you mean had them all? I can’t have.’
‘Well the first wish, that was to be famous again. So you’ve been the centre of a reality TV show. Fame is quite an easy wish to grant.’
‘I never realised.’ Things fell into place in her head.
‘Then the second wish, well that was for your ex-boyfriend to be as far away as he could be.’
‘Mars?’
‘Yes,’ Fred said, impressed that she was taking the news so well. Humans rarely appreciated his explanations of the wish situation. ‘It’s amazing the new things you humans come up with. Normally that kind of wish would just send someone to the other side of the planet, although with your modern transport, it may not be the hardest place to get back from. Mars, well, I’ve never sent someone on a space voyage before.’
‘And the third wish, what was that?’ she asked. The answer dawned on her. ‘I made that just now, didn’t I? During the interview?’
‘Yes. You wished no one could see you. So, becoming invisible was the perfect way to fulfil this wish,’ Fred explained, delighted that she now understood.
‘Oh my God, I must be going mad! I’m talking to a dog. It’s telling me he’s a genie. People have just left my flat screaming, thinking I’m invisible or a poltergeist. I can’t even see my own hands in front of my face. This must be a dream! What was in that cup of tea?’
The invisible woman shrieked.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I just pinched myself to see if it’s all a dream. It’s not,’ Sher’Me said. The fridge door opened and a bottle of prosecco floated out as if by magic. A cork removed itself and a floating glass filled and then tilted before emptying. ‘How could you do this to me? You’re the cutest little dog, I didn’t even realise. Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me waste my three wishes?’
The front door swung open and in strode a complete stranger. A middle-aged woman stood there, appearing as if she had travelled a long way. Fred tidied his appearance, hoping she had not identified him as anything other than a cute dog.
‘Who are you?’ Sher’Me asked, utterly confused by this latest interruption.
‘Who’s asking? Are you some sort of weird security device?’ the woman asked.
‘No, it’s me, Sher’Me.’
‘Oh you, the reality TV woman,’ the stranger said, stopping and turning her head to find the source of the voice. ‘I guess because I can’t see you, you’ve made a mistake. Did you use up your last wish?’
‘Yes. How did you know? Come to think of it, how do you know about wishes?’
‘It is easy when you know what you’re looking for,’ the woman said, her English containing the slightest hint of an Italian accent. ‘I’ve been looking for one of these genies all of my life, and now I’ve found one. Where have you hidden him?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Where’s the genie? Where have you hidden him?’
‘Hidden? He’s not hidden. I was just talking to him.’
Fred had by now concealed himself under the sofa. He perceived what this woman wanted, and he had no intention of giving in to her. He enjoyed being around Sher’Me, and intended to spend more of his endless existence in her company. A future with this other woman would be very different.
‘Here doggie doggie. Here doggie doggie,’ the woman called.
‘Leave him alone.’
‘What are you going to do about it? You’ve wasted your wishes, it’s my turn now.’
The woman popped open her large handbag and withdrew a lamp from its depths, not any old oil lamp, but a nice modern paraffin lamp. The temptation coursed through Fred’s body. The luxury of modern conveniences appealed to his homemaking side.
‘You can’t take him away, he’s my pet.’
‘He’s a genie, dear. And you can’t stop me.’
‘Oh yes I can,’ the disembodied voice said. A Pyrex dish flew across the room, just missing the woman’s head.
‘Hey!’ The woman ducked a second piece of flying kitchenware. She launched forward having spotted Fred cowering under the sofa. ‘Come on boy. Come on, I’ve the perfect home for a modern genie here.’
Sher’Me shrieked as she exerted herself, pushing an armchair across the room. The woman had to take evasive action.
‘If you don’t stop it, as soon as I get the genie, I’ll make a wish. It’ll be a wish you’ll truly regret.’
The room went silent. Precious’s invisible mistress stood there, her body tense with anger. She realised the game was up. Fred would miss her.
The ancient words were said, the Italian woman knew what to say. He knew about her unpleasant nature, his bones throbbed a warning. He would enjoy finding ways to punish her if she ever hurt him.
The modern lamp tempted him. He noted the luxury. It would be a nice place to live in, for a while.
