*****
“What the heck are you?” Benji yelped. He meant to sound louder and less scared, but his voice wasn’t cooperating.
“Umm . . . you don’t know? You didn’t summon me on purpose?” The boy looked confused and then rubbed his hands vigorously over his face causing his glasses to go askew. “This always happens,” he groaned, “now when I tell you, you’ll have a lot of false expectations and there will be yelling and crying and more yelling and then it will end in bitter disappointment on both sides and I’m going to have go back into that stupid lamp!” He had gesticulated wildly throughout this speech and now his arms were thrown open in apparent frustration. He glared accusingly at Benji. “Do you have any idea how cramped it is in there?!”
“Ummm . . . no,” Benji said, dumbstruck. “You live in the lamp?”
“Of course I do,” was the boy’s exasperated answer. “I’m a genie and all genies live in lamps.”
“A genie?” Benji exclaimed. That would explain the blue sparkles he guessed, but . . . , “I thought genies lived in oil lamps, like in The Arabian Nights? That’s a desk lamp and, no offense, but you sure don’t give off a genie vibe.” Benji crossed his arms, more curious and annoyed by the blue kid than scared anymore.
The teenager’s shoulders slumped. “I know, I know. It’s a semantics thing. Whatever the word “lamp” means at the time of a genie’s creation,” he explained despondently, “is what we get. And whoever creates us gives the genie it’s form.” He sighed and sat abruptly on the floor, resting his chin in his hand. “I suppose you want three wishes now, huh?”
Benji looked at the genie thoughtfully. What exactly were genies capable of? Could he wish for anything? What if he could wish for Mom . . . . Benji didn’t let himself finish the thought. “Well . . . ,” Benji sat down cross legged on the floor opposite the genie, but still a good three feet away. He asked, “Isn’t that that the way it works?”
The genie groaned again. “For most genies, yes,” he said morosely, “for me, no.” He suddenly righted his glasses and looked more in control in himself. “I’m Marvin, by the way.” He gave Benji a little wave. “This is going to take some time to explain, so at least you could introduce yourself,” Marvin the blue genie said after Benji just stared at him without making a response.
“Benjamin Rose,” Benji said. What kind of name was Marvin for a genie? “Everyone calls me Benji, though.”
“Great, now we can get on with the humiliation.” Marvin heaved a great sigh and gestured up to the lamp. “As you can guess, I was created more recently than most genies,” he paused, “wait a minute, did you ever tell me the year or have I forgotten already?” He looked perplexed. Benji shook his head and provided the year as asked. “Geeze, I missed the turn of the millennium.” A blue hand pushed black glasses up a blue nose. “Figures.”
“When was the last time you were . . . out?” Benji wondered.
“The 1940s. There was a big war then,” the genie responded. “I trust that got resolved?” Benji nodded. “I was being sent to Colorado, to a man named Harry, who would know what to do with me. Is that where I am now? Do you know Harry? I wasn’t summoned back until just now and I’ve never met him.” Marvin talked incredibly fast and asked questions like he was shooting bullets. Benji kept up, though.
“You’re in Colorado, on a wildlife sanctuary,” Benji confirmed, “but I don’t know anyone named Harry.”
“Oh . . . ,” Marvin looked disappointed. “I suppose that makes sense considering you obviously didn’t know what you were doing when you called me.”
“So why can’t you grant wishes if you’re a genie?” Benji asked. A non-wish-granting genie didn’t sound very helpful. Despite the novelty of having a blue teenager appear out of thin air, Benji felt disappointed.
Marvin sighed. “Most genies are created by Djinn,” Marvin began. Benji could tell he’d said this before, like a practiced speech. “That’s a powerful immortal who has cultivated the ability of magical creation. They can bring things into being, from rocks and trees to people and genies. I was not created by Djinn.”
“Who created you?” Benji interrupted.
“I’m getting there,” Marvin said, perturbed. He looked uncomfortable, but resumed his explanation. “I was created by a very intelligent, but selfish teenager named Horace after the stock market crash. He found a book with instructions on how to bring a genie to life and thought that by doing so, he could wish for his family’s money back. They had apparently been extremely wealthy and were then facing severe poverty.” Marvin stopped and looked thoughtful, like he might be remembering something.
“What does that have to do with granting wishes?” Benji prompted.
Marvin focused on Benji again. He said, “Djinn are inherently magical and have amassed lots of power by the time they get around to genie-making. Horace had no real magical ability and following the book’s instructions created a genie, all right, but without having any magic himself, he couldn’t imbue me with magic either.”
“Okay . . . ,” Benji commented, waiting for more.
“Horace envisioned himself as the genie he was trying to formulate, hence my appearance, and bound me to what he thought of as a lamp, hence the desk lamp. He’s the one that gave me my name, too.” Marvin gestured to the lamp still up on the desk. “I am bound to the lamp and can be summoned by rubbing it vigorously like any other genie, but I have no magic to grant wishes and have to inhabit the lamp again if directly asked.” His shoulders slumped again.
“Why a lamp?”
Marvin shrugged. “Something to do with light, I think, but I’m not sure. I only know what I do because Horace gave me to a professor after he couldn’t get me to grant his wishes. He, the professor I mean, found out what I’ve told you after extensive research on the subject.” Marvin got the far-away look in his eyes again. “His name was Albert,” he clarified when Benji looked blank. “He was really old, but kind. He died while I was back in the lamp one night. Then I ended up on a bank teller’s desk.” Marvin’s blue face looked sad.
“My last master was a woman. She found out about a place she said was for things like me. I think she meant ‘outcasts’,” Marvin explained, “not un-magical genies. She said she was going to send me there and ordered me back in the lamp. That was the last time I was on the outside.”
“So you live in the lamp?” Benji glanced at the brass desk lamp. He considered the possibility that he was dreaming and pinched himself on the elbow. Nope, he was awake. “Let me get this straight,” Benji began, “you live in a desk lamp, you’re a genie, and you don’t have any magic to grant wishes?”
“Correct,” Marvin said in a small voice.
“But you still have to do what I say?” Benji asked.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t figure that part out,” Marvin pushed his glasses up his nose again and glared at a space beyond Benji. “Yes, I am you’re veritable slave until you command me back into the lamp.”
“So,” Benji thought a moment, “if I say, ‘Marvin, go back into the lamp,’ you’ll . . . .” Benji’s voice trailed off and he watched as Marvin gave a groan and then vanished in flash of bright light. Benji gaped at the empty space where Marvin used to be.
The lamp stood on the desk, just as before, with no change that Benji could see. It was still mostly dirty and there was only one spot of brass that shone through the grime where he’d polished it earlier. He got up from his sitting position and took a seat in the desk chair. He examined the lamp from all angles. He plugged it into the light socket and pulled a little chain to turn it on. The bulb seemed weak, but the lamp worked like any other. He hesitated, but then grabbed the rag and began polishing the base vigorously.
The lamp glowed again, got hot, and then there was another blinding flash of light. Marvin was standing on the opposite side of the desk with his arms crossed, glasses askew, and looking annoyed. “Happy now?” he asked. Benji nodded, openmouthed. “Great, can we move on? I re
ally don’t want to be in and out of that thing all night! You have no idea how uncomfortable it is.”
“Itty, bitty living space?” Benji guessed.
“Unfortunately, yes.” Marvin fixed his glasses and smoothed down his shirt. “It’s like living in a matchbox.”
“So not the Maharajah’s palace?” Benji queried sardonically.
“It’s a smoky, windowless room with cushions strewn about instead of furniture,” the genie complained. “I think Horace was going for traditional,” he added glumly.
“So now what?” Benji had no idea what to do with a powerless genie.
“You tell me,” Marvin replied. “It’s your call from here on out,” he informed Benji. “I’d prefer to stay out of the lamp as much as possible, but most people tend to order me back in and leave me there since I can’t give them eternal youth or mountains of gold.”
“That’s kind of mean,” Benji said, “but understandable.” Marvin made a non-committal noise. “I —.” Benji dropped off as a knock sounded on the door. “Marvin, get back in the lamp!” he ordered quickly. He sat down at his desk and tried to look normal (what was normal about genies suddenly appearing out of desk lamps?). “Come in,” he said, thankful that everyone in this household was polite enough to knock.
Aunt Rachel stuck her head through the door. “Were you talking to yourself?” she asked glancing around the room.
“No,” Benji said quickly and became immediately aware that he sounded guilty. “Well, maybe,” he amended. He tried to school his features. “Sometimes I do that,” he added and hoped it sounded true.
Aunt Rachel laughed. “We all do it at one time or another,” she said congenially. “You’re uncle and I just wanted to tell you goodnight before we head off to bed ourselves.”
“Oh, . . . ummm, yeah.” Benji had irrationally expected her to demand to know what he’d been doing talking to a genie. “Goodnight,” he said quickly with a little wave.
“Goodnight. Don’t stay up too late,” Aunt Rachel admonished. She hesitated a minute before leaving and Benji realized she’d probably been hoping for a hug. Grandpa Lee, Aunt Rachel, and Uncle Matt were much more openly affectionate than his other grandparents and uncle had ever been. They were always hugging each other or kissing cheeks and stuff. Benji wasn’t as reserved about them as he’d been at first, but he didn’t think he was going to be automatically hugging them anytime soon either.
When his aunt had closed the door behind her, Benji turned back to the lamp. Snatching up the polishing cloth he rubbed another spot clean in the brass. Brightness, heat, and white flash produced an unsettled looking Marvin standing behind the desk.
“What was that all about?” Marvin asked with a raised blue eyebrow.
“I’m pretty sure my grandfather, aunt, and uncle didn’t know they had a lamp with a genie in it stored up in the attic,” Benji replied, “and I want to keep it that way for now. If I told anyone about you, they might try to take the lamp or something.” As Benji spoke he found that he really didn’t want anyone else to know about Marvin. For the moment, Marvin was his secret and he liked that. It made him strangely powerful. He didn’t want that spoiled by anyone taking the lamp away.
“So it goes,” Marvin said. “I’m used to being someone’s secret. I don’t mind,” he told Benji, “but I would like to know what you plan to do with me.” His blue eyes looked concerned. “Or what you plan for me to do, as the case may be.” He waited while Benji considered what he might want the genie to do.
Benji didn’t want to order him back in the lamp. Marvin didn’t seem to like that very much and he’d been in there for more than sixty years by Benji’s estimate. That was a long time to be stuck in one place. “If I let you stay out can I finish cleaning the lamp without it getting hot and glowing?”
“Yes,” Marvin answered. “Rubbing the lamp when I’m already out of it doesn’t really affect anything.”
“Don’t you have to go back in there to sleep?” Benji doubted he would be able to commandeer a guest room for a glittering blue genie without someone noticing.
“I don’t actually sleep much,” Marvin said, “being a genie.” The blue teen turned a little to indicate the fluffy beige couch behind him. “I could sleep on the sofa,” he suggested.
“Okay then,” Benji let out a big exhale, “how about you help me string up the rest of these planes and cars,” he pointed to the box still half full of models and the roll of fishing twine next to it, “while I clean up the lamp and we’ll go from there. Deal?”
Marvin was visibly relieved. “Deal.” he said.
Benji took his time cleaning up the lamp. He asked Marvin as many questions as he could think of while they worked and Marvin queried Benji about the time he had missed in return. Marvin told him about both the world wars, he had actually been in Washington, DC during the last one. Marvin said that when he last entered the lamp, things hadn’t looked good, but he was relieved to find out that the Nazis were defeated and he wasn’t currently living in a radical society.
Benji told Marvin about computers and cell phones and color T.V. and Marvin listened enraptured. It was disconcerting seeing a genie impressed by digital cable and iPods. Apparently being a genie did not include foresight of technological advances.
Marvin was most impressed by the cars. Going through the models, he asked Benji about every single car. When was it made? How fast could it go? Benji wasn’t that knowledgeable about cars, but was glad he knew enough from hanging around his Uncle Steve to answer most of Marvin’s questions.
In a short time, all the models were put away and the lamp was cleaned. Benji would have to replace the bulb if he wanted to use the lamp as an actual source of light, but he figured that could wait until morning.
It was interesting talking with Marvin. Despite his nerdy, outdated appearance, Marvin was pretty funny and really smart. He had learned a lot, he told Benji, during his time with Albert the professor.
With the room finished, Benji headed for the bathroom to get ready for bed. With a sudden thought, he stuck his head back out the bathroom door to see Marvin sitting in his desk chair slowly spinning it around. “Do genies have to use the bathroom?”
“Nope, not part of the deal,” Marvin said. “I don’t need to eat, so I’ve got no need for it.”
“Good to know,” Benji said. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about feeding a genie.
Benji changed into his sleep clothes and brushed his teeth. Marvin made himself comfortable on the couch and was reading a paperback when Benji emerged. He wished Benji goodnight, but kept reading after Benji turned the lights out. Maybe genies could see in the dark. Benji could here faint rustling sounds coming from the couch as he lay in bed looking at the ceiling.
“Marvin?” Benji asked softly.
“Yes?” the genie answered in an equally soft voice.
“If you had magic,” Benji’s question was hesitant, “could you bring someone back to life.”
“No,” Marvin answered. His reply was faint and sad. “A genie might be able to bring a body back, but not the soul.”
“Like a zombie?” Benji asked.
“I guess,” the genie sounded like he had no idea what a zombie was, but Benji got the picture. He shivered and didn’t say anything more.
Benji didn’t think he would be able to sleep with all the thoughts running around in his head, but after a few moments in darkness his eyes felt heavy. In no time at all, he was asleep.
A whining voice woke Benji up late in the night.
“Benji, Benji!” The voice was insistent. “Benjamin!”
He sat up abruptly, his eyes open wide. A startled and worried looking Marvin stood beside his bed. Benji looked around dazedly. Marvin’s shining blue skin seemed to glow in the darkness and Benji was relieved to discover he was safely in his room.
“That must have been some dream,” Marvin said. “You were thrashing and crying out, so I figured I’d better wake you.”
“I’m fine,” Benji assured the worried genie. He didn’t want to talk about it. “I’ll go back to sleep now.”
“Okay,” Marvin agreed easily enough. He went back to the sofa with another glance at Benji.
Benji sank backwards onto his pillows. There were nights when he didn’t have the dream, but more nights when he did. It disturbed him on some level that he didn’t understand, but in the daylight the details became fuzzy. It only left him with a vague sense of menace. Maybe he would talk to Marvin about it in the morning. He drifted back to sleep hoping that voicing his fears might undermine the terror of the dream.
*****
Chapter 13:Rule Breaker
Sanctuary Page 18