Purple

One day, Robert drove down to the beach on Lakeshore. He wasn’t looking for anything besides a couple of hours of lapping green waves, coarse imported sand, unnatural Lake Ontario smells, and maybe – just maybe – an escape from the grind, even if for only a couple of minutes. What he actually found out on the beach was the last possible thing he could expect to find, barring, of course, the festering crawfish-ridden corpse of a once-attractive mermaid.

The object was almost entirely hidden beneath the white sand. It alerted Robert to its presence as a sharp jabbing pain in the sole of his sneaker, causing him for the briefest of instances to fear for his well-being. Local sociopaths had the annoying tendency to bury wooden blocks studded with rusty nails and razor blades where bare feet were most likely to tread.

To Robert’s relief, such was not the case. It was a good thing too, as he couldn’t remember the date of his last tetanus shot. Panic soon gave way to mild curiosity. He reached into the sand and probed cautiously until his hands closed around something cold and solid. With a slight tug, he freed the object from its prison of grit. Granules of sand fell away from it like sugar.

It was a lamp.

It wasn’t the kind of lamp one could buy from IKEA, ergonomically designed and tastefully pastel-coloured to fit the decorating scheme of most any sensible personality-free living room; nor was it a kerosene lamp, one of those boxy affairs with a glass housing pitched black by decades of acrid and most likely carcinogenic smoke build-up.
Rather, it was an honest-to-gosh Arabian-style oil lamp, the kind shaped like a stretched-out teapot with a long, graceful spout and a hinged lid on top to put the petroleum in. It was bronze, yet showed surprisingly little sign of tarnish – so little, in fact, that Robert could easily believe the lamp had been buried the day before. The lamp gleamed in the sun.

He looked around to see if anyone else was about. He wasn’t quite sure why it mattered if someone saw him with the lamp. Certainly no one was going to rob him of it at knife-point. For some reason, however, Robert felt the pressing need to keep his discovery secret. Thankfully, not a soul was in sight.
Robert wondered what he should do with the lamp. He could take it, try to palm it off at an antique store. But what if it possessed intrinsic cultural value? He’d be no better than a movie-serial villain, subjugating indigenous peoples while cackling from beneath a black fedora and suspicious moustache. To a museum, then – but what if it proved to be a fake? He didn’t relish the prospect of wizened academics treating him as one would a child proud to display his first proper use of a toilet. Maybe he could make a gift of it, but he didn’t know anybody who would want such a thing. Or maybe he could keep it for himself – for what? A blackout?

It was at that point when Robert discovered, without realizing, that he was stroking the lamp as if he were an eccentric Bond villain and it were a silken-haired Persian cat. Feeling an odd mixture of shame and amusement, he pulled his hand away and was once again thankful to be alone on the beach. Robert wondered what had caused him to start groping the trinket in the first place; perhaps, he mused, the idea of a ‘genie in a lamp’ had become so firmly entrenched in the societal consciousness that the actual act of rubbing a lamp was practically reflex. Who wouldn’t want their own personal Barbara Eden? he thought to himself.

Suddenly, a stream of purple smoke issued from the lamp’s spout. Some of it flowed like a river, some of it poured like spaghetti from a pot, some of it oozed like toothpaste from a tube, and some of it hung in the air spiralling endlessly as the rest rushed past.

“Oh,” exclaimed Robert as he dropped the lamp and fell back onto his rear. “Shit!”

He watched, transfixed, as the purple smoke coalesced around a central point to form an amorphous mass roughly the size of a large shrub and looking very much like a nebula as photographed by the Hubble telescope. His jaw dropped when the blob of smoke collapsed into itself and – in a flash of light, amidst the scent of sulphur – became an exceedingly beautiful woman. An exceedingly beautiful, exceedingly purple woman.

“Oh,” mumbled Robert as he gaped at the woman, who now stood over him with a curious expression on her delicately-sculpted face. “Shit.”

“Sir, you have freed me from imprisonment most tortuous and unjust,” she said, with a voice not unlike a harmony of songbirds. “For this I offer you a thousand humble thanks. May your house be well-kept and your family blessed with good health and fortune.”

“You’re purple,” Robert said.

The woman continued, unfazed. “As decreed by the ancient rules, I am obliged to grant you wishes three.” Her speech, lovely though it was, had a rehearsed quality to it, like that of a stand-up comedian. Or a telemarketer.

“You can’t possibly be real,” he said, mostly to himself.

“I assure you, I am as real as yourself.”

Robert slowly got to his feet, not taking his eyes off the woman for a second. For the first time, he noticed that she wore an elegant backless evening gown.

“If you are what I think you are,” he noted suspiciously, “shouldn’t you be dressed like a belly dancer?”
She rolled her exquisite, almond-shaped eyes. “Did I not issue forth from a lamp? Have I not offered you the granting of wishes three? Would you that I also speak in Arabic, to convince you I am indeed jinni?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what it would take.”

“Make a wish, then, and satisfy your doubts.”

Robert stared. Clearly, this was no ordinary woman standing before him. In fact, upon closer inspection, it appeared that she wasn’t so much standing as she was hovering; her stylish pumps floated a good two inches above the sand. In this age of technological innovation, however, one couldn’t assume anything. For all he knew, she could be a prototype holographic projection or some other exotic new gizmo; the entire situation might have been orchestrated by some electronics company product testers who at that very moment were observing him using the latest in hidden surveillance –

“Okay people, the jig is up,” he snapped, looking wildly about. “I have my rights. You might as well come out now. I never agreed to this.”

The purple woman folded her arms and peered down at him as one would a pimple. “You possess more suspicion than a Caliph. Perhaps, for your first boon, I shall bestow upon you an extra pair of eyes?”

“No thank you,” he said. “I just want you to go away.”

“I will depart, as soon as I grant you your boons.”

Robert opened his mouth to argue, then reconsidered. What if she really was a genie? He’d be throwing away the biggest stroke of luck he’d ever come across. Yes, the whole situation was probably the game of some unscrupulous corporation – but what if?

“Give me a bit to think,” he said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Very well,” she replied nonchalantly.

Overhead, a flock of seagulls squabbled noisily amongst each other for the scraps of a dead fish. Robert found them exceedingly distracting.

“Okay, I think I have it,” he said finally. “I wish – I wish for a sandwich. A BLT.”

“A sandwich?” the purple woman asked incredulously.

“Yes. I wish for a BLT. Bacon, lettuce and tomato. No mayonnaise. On whole-wheat bread.”

“Are you sure?”

Robert nodded. “I just need proof that you are what you say you are; I’ll still have two more wishes, won’t I?”

“Very well. Your wish is my command,” she said, closing her eyes and waving her hands with a flourish. Purple smoke erupted from below, engulfing her; it hung in the air for a split second before receding the same way it appeared, like a film played backwards. The woman reappeared cradling a small bundle wrapped in wax paper. She held it out to him.

“Wow,” said Robert, hefting the bundle in one hand before unwrapping it. Inside was what looked for all intents and purposes like a BLT, and at just the right size to accommodate his appetite. The whole-wheat bread looked freshly baked; he lifted the top slice and examined the filling. The lettuce and tomato were crisp and fresh, the bacon glistening in the sun. Its aroma was intoxicating, and Robert’s mouth watered. He brought the sandwich up to his mouth and prepared to take a bite, when something caught his attention; he lowered it again, brows furrowed.

“Is something the matter?” asked the woman who may or may not have been a genie. “Is this BLT not to your liking?”

“No, no, it looks good,” he said. “I’m just wondering why the wrapping paper has the Mr. Sandwich logo on it.”

She sighed. “It is so because I transported it from the clutches of one who had just purchased it from a nearby Mr. Sandwich shop. Did you expect me to lay the raw ingredients at your feet and prepare your meal before your very eyes? Do you fancy the sight of a woman labouring beneath your heel?”

“N-no, of course –”

“Or perhaps you long to witness the spectacle of myself slaughtering the swine, sullying my perfect hands with its meaty blood and entrails? Is such your perversion of choice?”

“Of course not! Jesus, that’s messed up!”

“Then I beseech you, what is the problem?”

Robert shrugged, his appetite long since dissipated like so much purple smoke. “I don’t know. I didn’t expect you to steal the sandwich from someone. I just thought that genies could – I don’t know, conjure things up from thin air.”

She lifted her hands helplessly. “Some things are not possible, even for one such as I.”

“But you’re a genie. They make the impossible possible.”

“If that were so, I would not be bound to that accursed lamp – nor to you, my ass of a master.” She bit her lip and made sure to speak very slowly, so Robert could understand. “The universe is defined by its rules. One may not exist without abiding by its laws. I do not operate outside the bounds of reality; for example, I may not create nor destroy – only change. Neither may I act upon one thing without affecting many others. Like all you – like all – I reverberate throughout all of existence.”

Robert stared at her for a good long while, his mind going over her words. “So you’re saying,” he finally said, “that there’s nothing weird about this sandwich?”

“No,” the Purple Lady replied tersely.

“So I can ask for anything?”

“Yes.”

“But how I imagine the wish would be fulfilled will completely differ from its actual literal undertaking.”

The elegant curve of her eyebrow rose briefly. “Yes.”

“Figures. ‘Be careful what you wish for’ and all that crap. It’s the same old story.”

She nodded approvingly. “It fills me with great joy to know you are not as dunderheaded as I first took you for, master.”

“Thank you,” Robert said dryly.

“So what will you have for your second boon?”

“I don’t know,” he replied with a heavy sigh. He picked up the lamp and walked down to the edge of Lake Ontario, the Purple Lady floating close behind. Together they looked out over the water, its gentle brown waves rippling all the way to the horizon.

“These waters smell foul,” she remarked. A dead carp floated past, rancid meat bleached white in the sun.
Robert took a bite from his BLT and instantly regretted it; the food did not mix well with the air. “It might be disgusting and gross, but it’s my lake,” he said, tasting bile.

“For your second wish, I could make these waters smell as pure as a mountain spring.”

“How?”

“By transporting every single organic particle in the lake somewhere else. Minnesota, perhaps.”

“Does that include the fish?”

“The fish, the plants – all that aids this stench.”

Robert frowned. “Some people might miss the fish. And fishing.” He shrugged.

“I imagine it would also result in the collapse of several industries.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Industries? Oh. That’s pretty harsh. Forget it then.”

The Purple Lady shrugged, ever so slightly. “One of my former masters once remarked, ‘Nothing of worth comes without sacrifice’.”

“Yeah, but what you’re talking about is overkill.” He re-wrapped his sandwich and stuffed it into his pocket. “I’m not about to put people out of jobs just to make the beach slightly more pleasant. It’s not like I’m asking for world peace or something.” Robert arched an eyebrow. “What would you do if I asked for world peace?”

Her gaze flickered upward. “I would direct an asteroid the size of Manhattan into the Earth, causing a global extinction event. A race of pacifist ant-folk will arise in humanity’s stead. Their art will be substandard and their divorce rates miniscule.”

“Wow.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, how about peace in just the Middle East then?”

“A smaller asteroid, to transform the disputed area into a shallow ocean –”

“Just what is it with you and asteroids?”

The Purple Lady smiled mirthlessly. “If you prefer, I might set certain events in motion which would result in a globe-spanning totalitarian regime eliminating religious, cultural, and racial distinctions; all people throughout the world would be one – one, and extremely uninteresting. So shall there be peace, though it will not be a lasting one; all humans fail, and their empires must fail with them.” She smirked. “Asteroids, on the other hand, are less prone to idiosyncrasy. And they work much more quickly.”

“Yeah, but –”

“Be careful what you wish for,” she interrupted, her voice lilting melodically.

He frowned. “Okay. How’s this: ‘I wish for a world peace that doesn’t involve people dying and lasts for as long as people are around’?”

“I would influence a plague; one that affects the brain and vanishes the tendencies which cause aggression and conflict.”

Robert thought for a moment. “What’s the catch?”

“Extraterrestrial civilizations would find Earth a laughably easy target. Even the beasts of this world would make playthings of your people.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Wait – extraterrestrial? You mean there are aliens out there?”

“If it so pleases you, I could guarantee the safety of your species by eliminating all other life on this planet as well as throughout the universe.”

“No thank you,” he replied feebly.

The Purple Lady’s dark violet hair fluttered in a sudden breeze. “If drastic ends call for drastic measures, perhaps you might wish for something smaller instead?”

He threw up his hands in exasperation. “But there’s always a catch!”

“Such is life – with or without the services of a jinni.”

Robert rubbed his forehead. It really shouldn’t be this hard, he thought to himself. “Okay, forget about world peace. How about money – you can make me rich, right?”

“Easily.”

“By –”

“Revealing to you the winning numbers in this week’s lottery.”

His raised his eyebrows in surprise. “And nobody gets hurt?”

“Actually,” she began, the trace of a smile fluttering across her delicate lips, “ten years after you make your riches you shall be poisoned by your spouse for the insurance money. She subsequently fires all your employees, including one who desperately requires money for a gallbladder operation, and then loses the entire fortune in a failed business venture.”

“And there’s no way to avoid that?” Robert asked, shaking his head.

“Certainly there is: do not become a millionaire.”

He clasped his brow. “Forget it then. I never wanted to be a rich man anyways.”

They began to walk along the shoreline, watching the gulls alight on the surface of the water to peck at bits of floating garbage. Robert scratched his chin, felt stubble.

“Can I ask for eternal life? No, I guess that would be a bad idea. You’d probably turn me into a vampire or something. What if I ask for happiness for the rest of my days instead? What would you do?”

She smiled seductively; the man felt a tingle so powerful he almost cried out. “I would pleasure you in ways no mortal women ever could,” she crooned, her words thick like honey, “and at the height of your passion, before you have a chance to become bored or otherwise displeased, all the vessels in your brain would burst, sending you to a quick and painless death.”

Robert shuddered. Still, a part of him was intrigued by the idea of doing the nasty with the purple woman. “What about true love?” he asked, collecting himself. “What would happen if I wish for true love?”

The Purple Lady looked at him with laughter in her eyes. “Your perfect woman, one who would find you equally perfect, lived six thousand years ago in an ancient Mesopotamian village. Would you be transported to the past? Or perhaps, that I resurrect the dead? Both are within my power.”

Robert twitched. “That’s, uh, okay. No need to do that. I can settle for the truest love I can have with someone alive today. Is that possible?”

“Certainly. There is a five-month old child in Ghana –”

“Never mind.” He looked away, exasperated. “How about just an average love? Something that isn’t storybook, but it lasts and means something?”

The Purple Lady stopped, crossed her arms, and pouted. For the first time, her derision was unguarded; her guise of cool disinterest appeared to have fallen away. “You have powers inconceivable at your disposal. With a few words, you can make the world your plaything. And yet, with that power, you would obtain for yourself something that can be got with little more than a haircut and some self-confidence?” She snorted, wisps of purple smoke curling from nostrils. “I have served kings and madmen, warriors and cowards, the wise and the feeble – but you may perhaps be the most pathetic master I have ever had the displeasure of being bound to.”

“Hey now,” Robert retorted, “I’m just trying to be conscientious. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“You say you are conscientious. I say you are paralysed with fear.”

“Well excuse me if I’m a little frightened of asteroids raining down on my head.”

“You know of what I speak. I am your chance to live a life you could not otherwise have. Are you truly content with your existence as it is?”

“Of course not,” he stammered defensively. “But look what would happen if I try to change anything. Mass extinctions and alien invasions and economies collapsing and maybe zombies.”

The Purple Lady looked up to the heavens, hands raised in frustration. “Were you not listening whilst I spoke? We reverberate throughout existence. Every single thing you have done today – everything you have done in your entire life – has had consequences which are of benefit for some and harmful to others. Change constantly ripples in our wake; thus is the universe continually made. You have caused and averted catastrophes in your brief life, even without the aid of one such as I.”

Robert laughed nervously. “Come on now. Who do you think I am, Jesus? Buddha? I’m nobody.”

She pursed her lips. “You are an average man of little distinction who, nevertheless, has unknowingly made an impact on history. For example: Ten years ago, you refused an influenza shot. Because of this, you became afflicted with the disease, which you then passed on to another who, in turn, passed it on to a woman with AIDS and killed her.”

Robert gaped. “Are you saying I’m a murderer? I couldn’t have possibly known that would happen!” he shrieked in outraged.

The Purple Lady waved dismissively. “I am not judging the consequences of your existence; it is a tiresome activity best left to those with little time and no perspective. If it pleases you to hear, the woman’s daughter shall draw inspiration from her mother’s death and eventually discover a cure for the dread disease.”

“Am I supposed to feel good about that?” Robert grimaced. “I’m supposed to think I somehow help cure AIDS?”

“It matters not how you feel about it. Such is life.”

He shook his head. “That may be true. Hell, it’s probably true. But I still have to live with myself at the end of the day. God, what a pain.” He sighed and waggled the lamp in the air. “I wish I never found you,”

“Is that truly your wish?” the Purple Lady asked grimly.

“Maybe. Maybe not. On the one hand, it would save me a headache. On the other hand, it seems like a waste to have all this power and not use it somehow.”

“My sentiments exactly,” she muttered with thinly-disguised frustration.

“You make it sound like you actually want me to ask you to do something terrible,” he noted.

The Purple Lady sneered. “Do not presume to judge me, Master Ass; were it within my reach, I would smite you as one would a biting insect.”

He held up his hands apologetically. “I’m not judging you; I’m just making an observation. Look, if I were trapped in a lamp for however long, only to be called out to grant wishes, I’d be pretty pissed off too. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Do not presume to fathom any aspect of my existence either,” she snapped. “Do not try to relate to me. You cannot.”

Robert shook his head. “Come on. Don’t you get even a little bored, cooped up in there?” He dropped his hands. “You asked me if I was satisfied with my existence; now I’m asking you the same thing. I’ll even make it my second wish. I wish for you to answer the following question, truthfully: Are you happy with your life the way it is?”

“You are a sad, foolish little man. Is this truly what you wish for?”

He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“Your wish is my command.” The Purple Lady began to wave her hands in the air as she did when she produced the BLT, realized it was unnecessary, stopped, and chuckled to herself. She looked at Robert and smiled bitterly. “The answer,” she said softly, “is no. I curse my fate. Every second of it brings me untold shame.”

Robert thought a while. An idea had formed in his head, but he was still quite unsure about it. “What if I wished for you to be human?” he heard himself ask before he could stop himself.

The Purple Lady stared at him. “What?” she demanded in disbelief.

He hesitated. “I can’t see anyone getting hurt by it. And it’s better than locking you back up in your bottle. At least I won’t be wasting wish. You should be grateful. I don’t picture many other people doing you a favour like this.”

She gave him a look of pure, icy hatred. Robert almost felt the air around him drop by a dozen degrees. “A favour? You would claim such a thing – robbing me of my powers, condemning me to an insignificant life as an insignificant mortal – a favour?!”

“I wouldn’t say ‘insignificant’. Don’t we ‘reverberate throughout existence’?” he inquired, unable to avoid throwing her words back at her.

“If you do this thing,” the Purple Lady hissed, the songbirds in her voice devoured by serpents, “I swear I will try all within my means to make your life miserable.”

“You won’t be the first woman to say that to me,” Robert replied with a sad shrug. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. “Hey. You didn’t tell me exactly what would happen. Every time I suggested a wish, you could predict the outcome.” Robert furrowed his brows. “What’ll happen if you become human?”

The Purple Lady glared at him, still seething; however, as his words dawned upon her, the withering expression on her face slowly softened to one of mild bewilderment. “I – I do not know,” she whispered, “I cannot see it. It is a most peculiar thing.”

He shrugged. “I guess there’s nothing to it then. I wish –”

“Wait!” she interrupted. “What happened to caution? Are you not worried by the possible consequences of this course of action? Any number of terrible things may happen!”

“Sure I’m worried. I mean, yeah, some horrible stuff could happen if I make this wish – who knows, the universe could pop or something – but some good stuff might happen too. I don’t know, and I guess neither do you.”

“That is your motive?” she shouted, near hysterical. “For all your talk of morality and responsibility – of being conscientious – you finally decide to do something only because you are ignorant of its outcome?!!”

“I guess so,” he responded feebly.

The Purple Lady turned away and faced the Toronto skyline. The sky was a perfect blue; office towers gleamed like diamonds in the sunlight. “Compared to the darkness within my lamp, your city is quite fair,” she confessed, “but it also frightens me.”

Robert tried to sound reassuring. “You’ll be fine.”

“No I will not!” she exclaimed, a puff of purple smoke bursting above her head. “I will be ignorant! I will be ignorant and thoughtless and impulsive and selfish and near-sighted and narrow-minded and careless and irresponsible!”

“You’ll be human,” Robert offered. “And you’ll be, uh, free.”

She looked up once more at the sky. “I will not lay with you out of gratitude, if that was your hope,” she remarked crossly.

“It wasn’t,” Robert said. Yeah it was, he thought, crestfallen.

A long silence ensued, punctuated by the soft lapping of waves and distant cries of gulls wheeling over the lake. The Purple Lady watched the water, and Robert watched her. After a time, she shrank a little, and a sigh escaped from her perfect indigo lips.

“What is your third wish, my master?” she asked, her words tinkling like wind-chimes.

Robert cleared his throat and reminded himself to enunciate. “I wish for you to become human.”

And then there was purple smoke.