Synopsis: It's just a typical spring morning for John, as he arrives at Cartwright Collectibles for his Saturday job. But an unexpected encounter with a creature he thought only existed in legend leads to a life-changing decision...

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It was a bright spring morning as I approached the door of Cartwright Collectibles and stepped in. Despite the name, the store was more of a junk shop, selling various small household items salvaged from old buildings before demolition. OK, so it isn't your average teenage hangout, but I had a Saturday job here, helping out Mr. Cartwright so I could earn some pocket money. I wasn't really 'in to' all this old stuff, but it was certainly better than getting up ridiculously early, like 6 O'clock, whatever the weather, to do a paper round!

It wasn't very busy, so Mr. Cartwright sent me into the basement to clean up and polish a bunch of old pots and pans. It wasn't exactly mind-blowing work, but I quickly settled into a routine and started daydreaming.

A few minutes later, I was polishing an ancient stove kettle, when it suddenly started to shake. That broke me from my dreams, just as a thin wisp of blue smoke poured out from the spout, and rearranged itself into the head, arms and torso of a rather well-built, muscular and (rather worryingly) strangely attractive man.

To say I was shocked was an understatement! I immediately thought of running away, but found I was rooted to the spot - my legs simply refused to move! I pinched myself to ensure I wasn't dreaming (it hurt, so I've either got a very vivid imagination or this was really happening...)

I then looked up at him. He wasn't wearing a turban, a comedy moustache or any of the other apparel you normally associate with genies, but here, apparently, was one. While I stared, he took a deep breath, and began speaking - improbably enough - with a broad London accent. "Ah, fresh air at last!" (I thought: Who's he kidding? The air down here's stale, musty and slightly damp...I wouldn't call it fresh by any stretch of the imagination!) "It's so nice to get out of that kettle, which I had the misfortune to be incarcerated in what must have been many, many years ago. OK, it had more room than those infernal lamps, but it was still small and cramped. Every time I tried to move I ended up knocking the kettle over. Whoever thought we weren't supposed to feel pain while bound to such ridiculous confines had no idea what they were talking about..."

I listened to him recall his miserable existence for what seemed like several minutes before he stopped and looking down, noticed me.

I looked back, and meekly stuttered, "Ar...Ar...Are you a ge..ge...genie?"

"Were you the one who released me from that kettle?"

I just nodded.

"Good, thank you ever so much. Now, to answer your question, technically speaking I'm actually a djinni - a kind of magical spirit. The word genie sounds similar, but it's a mistranslation - the word actually comes from the Latin 'genius'" he replied, starting to smile at the end.

"I know it's corny, but...are you a genius?"

"Well...I like to think of myself as one - in both senses of the word!" he grinned back.

"Eh?"

"The Latin term genius originally meant a person's guardian spirit, which was also responsible for their abilities - but I think in your culture, it's more commonly used to describe a person with extraordinary abilities. So I reckon I qualify on both counts. Now you look like a fairly intelligent chap yourself - what do you know of my kind?"

"Dunno really. I mean, I've, like, read stuff like Aladdin, but they're, like, just stories, aren't they? I know genies are supposed to, like, grant wishes and stuff, but as to who/what/why/where, goodness knows."

He sighed. "I won't bore you with the details now, but suffice it to say not all of us are as bad as our reputation in stories claims. Anyway, down to business. By Djinni law and tradition, I am bound to the service of the keeper of the enchanted object - in this case you, as you released me from that darn kettle - for a total of three requests - I think you call them 'Wishes'. Now you say you've read stories of our kind, so I'm sure you're aware that we cannot 'undo' wishes, and too many people in the past have blindly spluttered out a set of highly inappropriate (for them) but nevertheless highly amusing (for us) wishes. The Romans had a useful phrase that sums it up perfectly - Caveat emptor - buyer beware."

"OK...err...can you, like, help me with my wishes?"

"You know what - you're the first person who's ever thought of asking that. I obviously can't decide on your wishes for you, but I'll allow you time to decide on your wishes, warn you if any are obviously stupid, and allow you to review them before committing. Does that sound fair enough?"

"Yes." I thought it best to play safe initially, so suggested "World peace?"

By the look on his face, I quickly realised that might not have been such a good idea...

"So, you think you're being clever, eh? Think you're being smart? You have no idea how many people have tried asking me that in the past! Yes, I'm sure most people would like the idea of a world without warfare and untoward destruction, but do you have any idea of the scale of such a task?" And so he continued for several minutes, pointing out how vague such a term was, all the various interpretations of it, how impossible and futile the task would be (altering human nature to such a level), and so on.

When he'd eventually finished pointing out the flaws in my suggestion, I decided to try something a little less extreme.

"OK then, how about, like, making people a bit nicer towards each other, putting up with each other's differences, and less likely to be nasty to each other for silly reasons?"

"That's better. In fact, several of my cousins are already working on that. We've still got a long way to go, but even as recently as the 1960s..."

I thought, That's actually quite a long time ago, but decided not to say anything.

"...it was very rare to find women in the workplace or owning a house or car - they were expected to stay at home, doing housework and looking after the children, while their husband financed everything. Nowadays many women are in work, owning their own houses and cars, and are entirely self-sufficient. Oh sorry, I'm getting carried away again, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you do seem to like the sound of your own voice - but then I guess you haven't had anyone to talk to for a while."

"Oh, sorry. Anyway, if you like I'll lend a hand to the effort. After all, there's still plenty of silly discrimination in the world. Don't expect any instant change - rather, expect it to slowly build up momentum. After all, you can't change 6.6 billion people overnight."

"Fair enough."

"Have you thought of your second wish yet?"

"OK. Everyone's always telling me that I'm, like, always incredibly disorganised. I know I always find it difficult to complete tasks in the right order, which makes my life a total mess. If I'm to be successful in future, I desperately need to get more organised. Can you help?"

"How organised do you want to be?"

"How about, organised enough to be able to prioritise tasks effectively, and use a calendar or diary to efficiently plan out tasks for the days, weeks and months ahead?"

"I can certainly do that. And your final wish?"

"This is tricky. On the one hand I've always felt...nah, you'll only laugh..."

"What? I've heard plenty of strange requests in my time - longer hair, as attractive as a supermodel, enhanced body parts, better bedroom performance, if you catch my drift..."

"Yuck! Do people really wish for...?"

"You'd be surprised how many do. So come on, out with it, I promise I won't laugh."

"OK."

I suppose I could tell him - maybe he'll understand...

"I've always felt like I was born in the wrong body - that I'm really a girl..."

I paused, expecting him to start laughing or to tell me I was stupid, but he just looked at me, puzzled.

"On the other hand, you're probably tired of being stuffed in that kettle - so maybe I should set you free instead. I just don't know what to do."

"OK, first option. Why do you want to be a girl? You know as well as I do that life isn't easy for them - what with monthly periods, giving birth, being leered at by men, always expected to be pretty, their opinions continually ignored - and they still earn less on average than men." Strangely, he didn't appear to be ignorant - it was almost as though he was just ticking off a list.

"Look, I know what I feel. I HATE being a boy. I don't want to be strong or macho - not caring about anyone or anything, only interested in fast cars, earning more money than my friends, talking about how 'hot' girls are, or - gah! - football."

"What's wrong with football? It's a very popular sport..."

"22 idiots chasing a ball around a muddy field, even in the pouring rain and snow. Then all the chanting and calling the other team 'stupid' - and the ridiculous amounts of money the 'stars' get paid. No thanks!"

"OK, you've convinced me you don't like being a boy. But why be a girl?"

He's really not getting this. How can I convince him? "What's it like for you, cramped up in that kettle?"

"Terrible! Every moment of every day, all I can think about is getting out - being free." He then practically screamed "I HAVE to get out of this kettle - it's driving me mad!" Slightly quieter, but increasingly agitated, "You don't know what it's like to be cramped up in that...I don't just want to get out - I HAVE to get out!"

Hang on... "That's exactly what I feel like being a boy. I'm barely able to concentrate on the work in class, because every time I see a girl I can't help thinking about what it would be like to be her."

"Oh no, I'm not going to do body swaps - it would upset the natural balance, and I wouldn't have the permission of the girl."

"You still don't get it, do you? I just want to be ME - but a girl me, not a boy me!" I was practically crying at this point.

"Well, you've only got one wish left - so, do you want to be a girl or do you want to free me - what's it to be?"

He seems quite nice, and I'd really like to free him, but this might be my only chance for...

Aha! An idea crept across my mind, and I slowly smiled.

"How about...make us both who we desire to be."

He bowed. "Very crafty, and very wise. So, before you firmly commit to these wishes, let me recap: you wish me to use my abilities to help end discrimination, you wish to be more organised, and you wish we were both the people we desire to be."

"Yes, if it's not too much trouble."

Suddenly, the room filled with a bright white light, I shielded my eyes and collapsed to the floor.

A few minutes later, it was gone, and I gingerly opened my eyes. Sitting on the edge of a table opposite me was the genie, now sporting legs, jeans and a T-shirt.

"Don't worry, it will take a few days to get used to your new body and life. As far as the outside world is concerned, your name is Jenny, have been all your life, and if anyone asks, you've just had a spot of amnesia. For the sake of convenience, I haven't tinkered with anyone's memories yet, but their memories of you will automatically adjust whenever you meet them or they discuss you. You'll always keep your 'John' memories, but as time goes by they'll grow slightly distant and hazy compared to your 'Jenny' memories. I'm now Mr. Smith, and for the next few years will be your school's guidance counsellor. Any problems, just find me. Now I'd better be off, and as a parting gift..."

There was another bright flash, and the air suddenly smelled a lot fresher. I was feeling a little fuzzy in the head, but at least all the junk in the store room had been cleaned and polished.

At that point, the door to the store room opened and a different voice asked:

"Jenny, are you all right in there?"

"Err... yes thank you Mr. Cartwright, I think so. I've cleaned all the stock but I'm feeling a little woozy. Must have been the air or the polish."

"Come on out then, I'm just about to lock up and your mum will be wondering where you've got to."

"Yes, sir" I replied, then grabbed the kettle and used it as a makeshift mirror to examine myself. I now had shoulder length hair in a 'bob' style (and couldn't resist shaking my head to feel its movement - to the sound of Mr. Smith tutting), was wearing distinctly girly jeans and trainers, and I rolled my eyes as I read the mirrored legend on my T-shirt - "Hello boys!" He couldn't resist a joke, could he?! Now I was the one tutting.

I grinned at my new appearance as Mr. Smith disappeared from sight, then I ascended the stairs to the shop floor.

World, watch out - here I come, whether you're ready for me or not!