Games Even the mighty like to play. When genies play games, the objects of their attention must learn the rules. And fast.

Far beyond the reach of space and time lies the City of Brass. A sea of flames surrounds it and the brass walls glow hot enough to blind any visitor who made it through the endless magma. This hellish region is home to powers so unimaginable that gods themselves fear to meet them.

In a tower high above the city five genies met. Each one has enough power to shake the foundations of the world. Together all of creation was at threat. The mighty quailed at the outcome of the meeting.

“Hand me another pint, would you?”

“Haven’t you had enough?”

“Oh, give it a rest, would you? It’s a do, enjoy yourself.”

“Both of you stop. We’ve got a game underway, and still have to figure out the rules this time around.”

“What’s to figure? We go out, grant wishes, whoever gives the most poetic punishment wins.”

“Booo-ring. How many times have we done that? It gets old.”

“And I suppose you want to help them? Make their lives better?”

“Well…”

“Been there, done that. How about something new?”

“Got something in mind?”

“In point of fact I do–”

---

“Chris, where are you,” yelled Sally Antiers as soon as she entered the door.

No answer. She hadn’t expected one and was disappointed anyway. Since her son’s car wasn’t in the driveway, she assumed he’d gone out.

Also as she expected, he hadn’t done any of his chores. His books were tossed casually on the sofa along with some old gym clothes. No notes, no messages, nothing saying when he’d be back.

Annoyed, she pulled out her phone and called him. He didn’t answer, so she had to leave a message. “Chris, I want you to come home. Now. You have homework and chores. You can’t keep running off, this is not acceptable.”

She hated nagging her son, even while she was doing it. His father, her ex-husband Frank, had been an up-and-coming ad designer when they married. She didn’t nag Frank when he brought that sleazy hotel manager home. How she wished she had. She told him he shouldn’t trust that man, but left it at that. Every client she met after that seemed worse until the police finally arrested Frank for drug trafficking. When she saw Chris hanging out with the same types of people, she would nag.

Already worn out after a hard day, she slipped off her shoes and walked over to the fridge. After a moment’s thought she pulled out one frozen dinner. She doubted Chris would respond to her message any time soon.

He was probably out with his girlfriend, Tiffany, the daughter of one of her ex-husband’s associates. The man owned a car dealership but laundered money on the side. She wanted to keep Chris as far from them as possible, but the harder she tried, the more he rebelled.

Last month he got suspended for having beer at school. She was sure he got it from one of Frank’s friends to impress Tiffany. The girl was just the last straw. Sally had to take some drastic measures, but what?

While she knew that Tiffany’s father was laundering money, she didn’t have anything she could bring to the police. Maybe she could find evidence in the boxes Frank left in the garage that she hadn’t thrown out yet. And if not, she thought, she could always call in an anonymous tip. She knew he was dirty. She’d be doing the town a favor.

And she’d be helping Chris, even if he wouldn’t agree.

Tired and annoyed after cleaning up dinner, she sat down in front of the television. She wanted to meet a new man and have something to do with her evenings, but single mothers didn’t have a chance on the dating scene. The last time she had a date Chris called her three times, everything from a backed up sink to help with the homework he finally decided to do. She never saw her date again. It was like Chris was working for Frank.

She almost pushed her son’s books off the couch but then thought better of it. If she stacked them on the table they’d be visible right when he walked in. Yes, it was still a type of nagging, but at least she could do it without yelling.

A can tumbled out of his backpack when she lifted it. It was unmarked, but she suspected it was either tobacco or drugs. At first she was angry, but then relieved. At least she’d know. She was sure it was the girl’s fault, but even if she had to put her son in juvie he’d be clean and away from Tiffany and her father.

She struggled to pull the can open, but the lid was stuck tight.

She grabbed it with a nearby blanket for a better grip and twisted it around. It popped off with sudden force and flew from her hands.

She started choking as smoke billowed around her.

The smoke didn’t clear, though it did recede.

A pile of smoke remained on the floor, and a large man stood in the middle of it, visible from the waist up.

He was blue.

Bright blue.

A super-sized smurf.

“Well, well, well, congratulations,” the man practically shouted at her, “You are the owner of one genuine, one hundred percent pure, super powerful genie.”

“What? Who are you? How did you get here?” she babbled incoherently. Yelling probably wouldn’t help her.

“Didn’t you hear me? I can clear that up if you’ve got hearing problems.” He stopped. Then, enunciating each word clearly, he said, “Genie. Me.” Pointing at her, he said, “Yours.”

“A… genie?”

“Hey, hey, hey, now she’s got it. Yes, that’s me. A genie. And I am here to grant you your wishes. Yes, that’s right, you have a special opportunity today only for as many wishes as you want. That’s right, no limits. Sky’s the limit is for suckers, we can go way beyond that. No limits at all. As many wishes as you want.”

He paused his tireless speech, and suddenly frowned shyly. Holding up his hand with his thumb and forefinger just barely separated, he said, “Subject to one teeny tiny little condition.”

Sally rallied. “You can grant wishes? You’re going to grant me wishes?”

The genie’s eyes narrowed. He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. “Anyone home in there? How many times do I have to say it? Yes. Genie. Me. Granting wishes.

“Soy un genio. Cencedo deseos.

“Je suis un génie. J’accorde souhaits.

“Ich bin ein Genie. Ich gebe Wá¼nsche.

“Get it?”

She didn’t believe it. On the other hand, she had a big blue man standing in a cloud of smoke. “Well, all right then. I wish–”

“Hold on a second, sister. There’s that one teeny tiny little condition to go over. Hardly worth mentioning, but I’ll mention it anyway.”

“OK.”

“Now, here it is. You can make as many wishes as you want, but they have to be chained. That is, the object of one wish must be the subject of the next wish. Further, you have to make a circular chain. The object of your last wish must be the subject of your first one, and once you’ve done that, your wishes are finished. Finally, I’ll choose my own place to start in the chain while keeping the subject object pairings constant.”

It didn’t help that he said all that at top speed. Sally looked confused, and finally said, “Can you repeat that?”

“Oooh, so sorry. One time and one time only. No small print, but one time through,” he said like a carnival barker. “Tell you what I can do though, just ‘cause I like you. An example. Yeah, an example’s allowed. So listen close. Are you listening?” He leaned towards her with his hand cupped around his ear just in case she didn’t understand.

Stunned, and still not entirely sure she wasn’t hallucinating, she nodded. “I’m listening.”

“Good. So, let’s take an example. I wish I had a giant house - subject is me, that is to say you, and object is the house. With me so far?”

Sally nodded. She could use a big house.

“Fine. Next I wish the house could fly. Now that’s no good see, because the house is the subject but there’s no object. Besides which flying houses are dumb. Too drafty. No cable. So that would end your wishes and you’d get nothing. Don’t do that,” he yelled.

She stared at him until she figured out he was waiting for a response. “OK.”

“So, backing up, lets say I wish the house was in New York. House, New York. Good. Finally, I wish New York would elect me governor. Bad idea - ungovernable state, but let’s go with it anyway. New York, me, and we’re back to the beginning. We have a loop, and I start granting wishes.”

She nodded. His excitement was infectious. “All right. Got it. Let’s go.”

---

“I wish my son would break up with his girlfriend, Tiffany,” she said without the slightest hesitation.

“Whoa, I like this lady. No waiting, just jump right in. Let’s keep this going.”

Sally suddenly stopped.

Rules.

Now she had to make a wish for Tiffany. She didn’t want to do anything to help her. Sure, it was her father who was dirty, but the seed doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“Can I take that back?” she asked. She could wish something bad would happen to Tiffany, but while she didn’t like the girl, she also didn’t hate her.

“No can do. Wishes once wished are wished wishes,” he answered at full speed.

“Can I think for a minute?”

“You think I have nothing better to do than wait on you? All powerful genie here; waiting around in this place watching the roaches crawl is not exactly my idea of a fun day. Take your time,” he pouted and started singing the Jeopardy tune.

“Fine,” she shouted back. “Just shut up. I got it. I wish Tiffany would move to another school, St. Sebastian’s.”

That would keep her away from Chris, which should help keep her son out of trouble, and wasn’t really ruining the girl’s life. As long as she stayed away from Chris Sally would be happy.

“And we’re moving right along. Tick, tock, tick, tock. We’ve got a break up and a move. You’re not exactly pushing my limits here. How much longer until the next one?”

“This one I’m ready for. I wish that school would offer me a job.” She could keep an eye on Tiffany, and besides it was bound to be a better job than what she had now. She didn’t have a teaching degree, so a job at the school would be an office job, maybe a principal.

“Let’s keep it going,” the genie said while tapping his foot loudly under the cloud of smoke that still surrounded him. Sally wondered idly if he was even wearing pants.

She thought. She could make a wish where she was the subject. It’s what she’d been waiting for. But now that it was here she was having trouble figuring out what she wanted, and how much longer she could keep this chain going. It didn’t help that the genie was getting impatient and had started singing 100 bottles of beer on the wall.

She decided to wrap the whole thing up.

“I wish I could make my son behave.”

The genie stopped singing immediately and looked at her. “And we have an attempt to wrap it up. I should say no go here, when you wished the school would offer you a job, the job was the object, you were an indirect object. But I like you, you have drive, ambition, moxie, and a big blue guy standing in your living room and you didn’t even blink. So, since I didn’t really break things down between direct and indirect objects, I’m going to give it to you. That’s just the kind of guy I am.”

He looked at her expectantly.

Finally he stage whispered, “Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” she said as though it was a question.

“Now don’t go thanking me. Remember that I choose where the chain starts. Oops, gotta go. Wishes granted. You’ll get ‘em as they come.”

The smoke rose back over him, and when it faded away he was no longer there.

Then another cloud of smoke rose around the can. When it faded away the can was gone too.

---

For a few moments Sally stared, mouth agape, at the spot where a large blue man stood in a cloud of smoke just moments earlier. She wondered if she was going crazy.

The smell of smoke lingered and stuck to the carpet, so she figured it just might be real.

Chris might be home early after all, if he was going to break up with Tiffany. She felt a little sorry for him even if she was the cause. She almost started warming up a dinner for him but stopped. First, the genie didn’t set a time frame. Second, genies aren’t real. Whatever happened to her, she shouldn’t get her hopes up.

Still, she thought, it wouldn’t hurt to get the address for St. Sebastian’s. Maybe she should wander over there tomorrow evening. If Chris broke up with Tiffany, she resolved, she’d call in sick and go by the school during the day.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

She broke into a wide grin when she heard Chris’s car pull up the driveway. Best not to look like she was expecting it, so she quickly turned on the television.

“Hey Mom,” Chris shouted as he came in the door. “I’ve got some big news, so sit down.” He was happier than she had expected after a breakup, but that was fine. She wanted him to be happy. That’s why she made that wish in the first place. She sat back down with an expectant smile.

“Go ahead,” she prompted.

“OK, now don’t freak out. You know Tiffany’s Dad, Mr. Mariano. Well, he’s offered to start me on the floor after school as a salesman at his dealership. It’s a great opportunity and can lead to a lot more…”

Her smile fell. She didn’t want him working for Frank’s friends. He should be telling her how he broke up with Tiffany. “I see,” she said with a frown creasing her face.

“I’ll be working late, so he’s asked me to move in with them. I know it’ll mean leaving you alone here, but you can probably do better without my messes and I’ll just be across town. Tiff convinced her Dad–” he said with a dreamy smile.

“How dare you–” she shouted as she jumped off the couch. When she was halfway up, everything froze. She couldn’t move a muscle.

Instead she heard, echoing inside her head, “I did say I could start the chain anywhere, while leaving subject and object where they were. So I started with your second wish. With that, you wished your son would move to Tiffany’s. Done.”

She could suddenly move again and finished bolting upright.

“How dare you even think of moving in with that hussy and leaving me. I forbid you from ever seeing that whore again,” she thundered.

“That’s my girl you’re talking about,” he yelled back in her face. “I’m going to have a better life than you, and she and her father are helping. You could at least pretend to be happy for me.”

“If you take one more step,” she railed despite desperately trying to stop herself, “never come back. Leave now and you’re no longer my son.”

He looked at her in disbelief. Her face was etched with hatred.

“Fine. Goodbye.” He turned and left without a backwards glance.

In her head, she heard the genie again, “And with our shift, your first wish was that you would break up with your son. Done.”

She broke down crying on the sofa while a dreadful laugh track blared from the television. Her son drove off, probably forever. Her wish doomed her to live without him. That awful genie tricked her. It was all wrong. She’d only wanted to help her boy and she drove him away.

Every time she tried to get up she would see something of Chris’s and fall back down. It surprised her when the sun came up. She’d passed the whole night in tears, but it was still too short a time to contain her regrets.

She called her work to tell them she couldn’t make it only to be told not to come in at all. They had been bought out and everyone was laid off effective immediately. She had to go by to get her severance, but that was all they could do.

The tiny, dark, messy house was not enough to contain her. She couldn’t imagine any greater disaster than meeting that genie, and was considering more drastic measures. She was tempted to give up. Forever.

Then there was a knock at the door.

It was Tiffany.

Somehow she restrained herself from slapping the bitch.

“Um, hi Mrs. Antiers. Chris told me everything that happened, and I feel bad about that. I thought, well, I thought maybe I could help you out.”

“What do you have in mind,” she asked calmly. It wasn’t what she wanted to say. Just like when she railed at Chris, she wasn’t fully in control of her actions.

“Well, I don’t want you to lose touch with Chris, so I thought you could work for us.”

She froze. Everything froze. There was the voice in her mind, “And now to your third wish. With the shift, you wished that Tiffany would give you a lesson. I replaced the direct object there instead of the indirect one.”

“All right,” she heard herself say, “I accept.”

“Great,” Tiffany gushed, “we need a maid. Keep in mind you have to behave properly. Neither Dad nor I put up with bad work, but as long as you do a good job and act like a proper maid, you can see Chris almost every day.”

The world froze again.

“And that’s your last wish. That your employer, Tiffany instead of the school, can make you behave.

And so she can.”

Games Even the mighty like to play. When genies play games, the objects of their attention must learn the rules. And fast.

That which is sculpted in the Hall of Clay comes to life the next day. Most do not survive long, few artists design for life. The majority of those that live fall prey to each other. A few survive and may one day be seen in the world at large.

In another hall, the Sands of Time fall to the floor and all of history litters the floor. Artists rearrange the sands to paint histories that never happened, which is why DaVinci’s flying machine can be found over the Battle of Gettysburg.

At the center of the woeful city, rising to unimaginable heights, is the Bell Tower, which will ring only once in all of history. Near the top of this tower, but not at the top - nothing has ever reached its top - is a gathering of genies with such power that they cast a pall over the city far below. None will risk being overheard and drawing their wrath.

“So. Now. Wait. Lemme see if I got this. We’re going to tell them how we’ll twist their wishes.”

“Right-o. That’s the game. Toss me anudder pint, will you?”

“But, if we tell ‘em, won’t they, like, not wish?”

“If they don’t, you lose, tosspot.”

“I never had no one not wish. Not happenin’ now neither.”

“So are you in?”

“Game on.”

“Not yet. I gotta pee.”

---

“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.” When he finished, Carl gently closed the book and reached over to stroke the old woman’s hand.

“Did you like that one, my dear? I know Christmas Carol’s always been your favorite, but I thought a change might be good. I talked to David last night, and he tells me…” The old man kept talking even though she never responded. She just stared straight ahead. When he stopped speaking she reached out to him, putting her hand awkwardly on his rich silver hair. He smiled at her with a tear in his eye.

A nurse was by the door when he finally left. “Today’s one of her good days, Mr. Schmidt. She was happy you were here.”

“Yes,” he answered sadly. “I think she remembered me today. It was nice to see her smile again.”

“You don’t have to come every day, you know. We will take care of her. And, I’m afraid, she wouldn’t know.”

“She wouldn’t, but I would. She’s my wife, and I’d miss her.”

The nurse gave him a bittersweet smile before turning away. “Let me get you some water before you head back outside.”

“Thank you, young lady,” he answered and sat down. He rested his cane against the wall. He tried to bear the pain in his hip with equanimity, especially after seeing the ravages his wife had to bear.

He walked back to his cabin. One of the reasons he and Marjorie chose this nursing home was the private quarters you could enjoy as long as you remained able-bodied. For a time they’d lived in the home together, but when her Alzheimer’s got worse she had to move into the hospital full time. Though he saw her every day he still missed her.

He told himself he was walking slowly so he could enjoy the grounds. It had nothing to do with the pain in his hip that forced him to walk with a cane. It had nothing to do with heading back to a dark and empty home and an afternoon alone. If he was going to delude himself, he resolved to do a good job of it. He tried to enjoy the flowers.

In the end it wasn’t the flowers that held his attention, but the children. The small playground was busy with someone’s grandchildren yelling and chasing and trying to climb up the slide the wrong way.

In his mind’s eye he saw his oldest son Tommy trying to slide while standing up. He had tumbled off the side and wound up with his arm in a sling. Marjorie cried and lectured him on safety. Carl worried, but didn’t want his boy to be afraid to try new things, so he told him “Anything good comes with risks. Remember what the view was like from up top.” Tommy once told him that was the best advice he’d ever gotten.

A touch of depression welcomed him home. Turning on the lights helped, but the house was still empty.

He went right to the curio cabinet. It was Marjorie’s pride and joy since she bought it forty years ago. She displayed the pictures and treasures they collected during a lifetime together. She used to change them every week so they would always see different parts of their life.

Carl had teased her each time she changed the display. When she first went to the hospital he left the cabinet as it was so he could hold on to her last display. It didn’t work, and soon he started changing the displays. Oddly, he felt closer to her that way. It was like a part of her was still with him.

Carefully taking her box of treasures from the closet, he opened it up and started rooting through the pictures and knick knacks. A wealth of memories greeted him with every photo.

The better Marjorie was doing, the less likely he was to display pictures of the two of them. Instead he picked pictures she would have liked. This week he decided to show off the kids. Somewhat whimsically he chose pictures of their children when they were five, and grandkids at ten. He was amused by remembering the children when they were younger than their own kids.

To keep Marjorie’s style he couldn’t stop with pictures. He pulled out souvenirs from trips with the children. He found a small plastic Aladdin’s Lamp from a trip they took to Disney World with their grandkids Donna and Peter.

Donna was married now and lived in Virginia Beach, while Peter was still in high school. His mother told him she thought Peter had a girlfriend but didn’t want to admit it. Peter had shown him how to use Skype, so Carl considered calling him and trying to tease it out of him. It used to drive Marjorie crazy how much he’d tease all the grandkids.

They’d been together so long. There just wasn’t any part of his life that didn’t make him think of her.

“They’re very nice pictures,” said a young woman from behind him.

He turned around slowly. “Are you new here? I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Carl Schmidt. Is it already time for my medicine?”

The woman didn’t look like a nurse. She had rose harem pants, of all things, with a green and red vest that revealed a bit more of her chest than was professional. Not that he planned to complain, of course.

“No,” she laughed, “I’m not a nurse. I’m a genie. My name is Daphne, and that,” she pointed to the plastic toy, “is my home you’re rubbing.”

“I’m… sorry,” he said while setting the toy down carefully. “I don’t get company very often, and even more rarely such a lovely young lady. So why don’t I just take your word for it?”

She looked at him expectantly, so he added. “If you’re here to rob me, I don’t have much. It’s not like I’m in any shape to fight back. If you’re willing to entertain an old man first, I can offer you some tea.”

“You’re really clever, aren’t you? You’re expecting one of the nurses to stop by soon, and you’re trying to delay me until then.”

“All right, you got me. Take what you want. I doubt I could do anything to stop you.”

“No one’s going to come by. I’ll make sure of it. And Carl, I’m not here to rob you. I meant what I said. I’m a genie. I’m here to grant you your wishes.”

With a small leer, he said, “Oh dear young lady, I’m afraid I’m just not up to it. Even ten years ago you might have made my wishes come true, but now…”

He’d played the dirty old man before. He threatened to steal his daughter-in-law away from Tommy every time they got together, and she played along shamelessly. They kept Tommy veering between annoyed and embarrassed. Marjorie never minded their games, rather she enjoyed it when he used the same lines on her.

“Tell you what,” Daphne said, “let me explain the rules, and then you can decide whether to– take advantage or not,” she added with a leer and a laugh of her own.

He took a deep breath and nodded at her to continue.

“You have three wishes, but have to make them all before I grant any of them. Each wish must involve a number, and the numbers may not share any prime factors or I don’t grant any of them. I can rearrange the numbers at will. Have you got that?”

She was serious. She might be crazy, but she believed what she was saying. Then again, he thought, maybe he was the one who was crazy. Here was a chance to make wishes and he was doubting it. What was the harm? Maybe he’d been wrong about magic all his life, and wouldn’t that be exciting?

“All right, Daphne. I’ll make my wishes. But first, let me make that tea I offered you.”

---

“We used to have loose leaf tea,” he told her while he tapped his way back into the kitchen. “It was one of Marjorie’s indulgences. We always managed to find it, no matter where we were. None around here, though, so I’ll I’ve got is tea bags.”

He was falling into the old man trap of lionizing the good-old-days. He knew better. He turned on the electric kettle. It was faster and cleaner than burning on the stove. And it was plastic, so it was easier to keep clean. Wonderful stuff.

He still didn’t like tea bags.

“Thank you for the tea,” Daphne said. “Will you let me pour?”

“Thank you,” he answered, sitting back. “It’s nice having guests. I don’t get to do this often enough.”

“What about all those pictures,” she asked. “Don’t your children come to visit?”

“They do,” he admitted. “When they can. They could never visit as much as I’d like, of course. They don’t come as often recently; they don’t like seeing their mother like she is, and I can’t blame them. They’ve all offered to let me stay with them, but I don’t want to leave her.”

“Won’t your neighbors wonder what I’m doing here?”

“No, I don’t think so. If anyone sees you, he’ll just assume you’re one of my grandchildren, or maybe that you’re someone else’s but you’re being nice and visiting a lonely old man.” He laughed, “I think your reputation is safe.”

He decided to have a little fun with the girl while they had their tea. He launched into one of his favorite stories, when he and Marjorie took a trip to San Francisco before they had any children. While seeing the sights, they joined with a crowd to protest the war. It was less a protest than an excuse to smoke and party.

They wound up sleeping together in a public park and getting arrested for it. An exasperated judge let them go after a stern lecture. Soon after, Marjorie got pregnant with Tom. Carl always liked to believe that was when it happened.

He was quite proud of his story; he got the pretty young genie to blush.

Suddenly she peered out the window, distracted.

“Carl,” she said seriously, “you want to use your wishes to save your wife, don’t you?”

“Of course,” he answered. “Still thinking about how, but–”

“There are boundaries I don’t cross. Make your wishes. Now.”

“Oh no. God no.” He understood exactly what she was saying.

“You have time. Make your wishes.”

“I wish– I wish my wife and I were 21 years old again.”

“Got it. Keep going.”

“I wish I had a job I could work at and be happy with for 40 years.”

“Good. Please hurry.”

“Let’s see,” he mumbled, “That’s 2, 3, 5, and 7.” He’d helped his children and grandchildren through math classes. “Good. Then I wish we owned the house at 19 Cherry Lane in Virginia Beach.” Near their granddaughter, Donna.

She smiled. “You made it in time Carl. Wishes granted.”

An old woman nearby idly wondered why the oddly dressed young lady was coming out of the empty cabin. Probably checking it out for her parents or grandparents. Then she forgot about it.

---

For the first time in years, Carl did not wake up in pain. His joints didn’t hurt, his hip was not bothering him. He was comfortable.

Best of all, better than all the rest, there was someone else with him. He could feel warmth, feel the sheets pull, feel the mattress dip, feel her. He wanted to weep with joy, but didn’t want to wake up Marjorie. Trying his best to lie still, his excitement broke out in an irrepressible grin.

The bed shook as Marjorie suddenly bolted upright. “My God, what happened?” It wasn’t her voice. It was deep. Male.

Shocked, Carl jerked himself up too and could tell that he wasn’t in his old body. He had breasts and was wearing a nightie. He was a woman.

First things first. “Marjorie?” he asked. His high pitched voice was strange to his ears, but he could deal with that later. His wife, if that’s who this was, came first.

“C– Carl?” the man next to him asked.

He almost collapsed in joy. “It’s me, my dear. It’s me.” The man in bed with him was a stranger, he’d never seen him before. It didn’t matter. He didn’t have the slightest doubt in his mind. This was Marjorie. His Marjorie. “This might be a little hard to explain…”

The man took a deep breath and looked straight at Carl. “If you tell me, I’ll believe it.” Carl could see it in her eyes. Marjorie knew him, too.

He explained about the genie, the wishes, and the conditions. He left off the literal deadline for his wishes. If she didn’t remember her dementia he didn’t want to be the one to tell her.

“Well,” she said when he finished, “I’d say your genie managed to get the better of you. But I can’t remember the last time I felt this good. I– remember,” she choked. “You can’t imagine what it was like, to know the world was there but it wouldn’t make sense. No matter what, I love you for saving me from that.”

Carl sagged. He hadn’t realized how tense he was. He was afraid she would blame him for their sex change. The surge of emotion felt strange; he could feel it in his breasts and further down.

“Let’s get up and look around. Maybe we can find out who we are,” Marjorie said hurriedly. Carl didn’t need convincing.

A small stack of cardboard boxes stood against the wall. Their bed was just a mattress on a wire frame. No pictures hung on the walls. They must be just moving in.

Carl couldn’t resist sneaking a peak at his wife, now wearing just pajama bottoms and leaving her hairy chest exposed. She made a handsome man, he thought.

Embarrassed by his reaction, and unwilling to look at his new body, Carl ran to the closet and found a sweatshirt and jeans. He couldn’t face the bathroom yet. While he got dressed, Marjorie checked out the rest of the house.

“We’re at 40 Cherry Lane. Small but nice place, and I’d have to say we just moved here,” she gestured at the boxes. “I also got our names from the mail. We are Edward and Janet Bauer.”

“My parents were going to name me Janet if I was a girl,” Carl, or rather Janet, announced. “Wait. Bauer. That was your maiden name.”

“Not so much anymore,” Edward responded with a nervous smile. “Are you all right with that?”

He, no she, thought about it for a moment. “You know what? I am. I’m still with you, and I’m your wife,” she giggled. “So of course I’m Mrs. Bauer now.” She felt unexpectedly happy when she said it.

“It looks like I’m going to school and working nights, and you’re…” He paused and looked away sheepishly. “I, uh, I went through your– purse to see what I could find.”

She laughed again, it felt so good. “I’ll let it go. This time,” she put on a mock threatening face, the same one Marjorie used to make towards Carl. She relaxed as soon as she saw Edward smile.

“Well, you’re a secretary. I guess you’re helping put me through school.”

“A secretary. And that’s a job I’m going to have for a long time. I wished for a job I’d like, though, so it’s probably better than it sounds. How old are we?”

“Pretty young,” he grinned while drinking her in with his eyes. “We’re nineteen. Got married early, I guess.”

“So 21 years as a secretary,” she grimaced slightly. “At least I’ll be with you.” She walked hesitantly towards him, towards her husband, and finally leaned in to hug him.

She could get used to it.

Edward knew better. He didn’t say a word, she’d figure it out in her own time.

She wasn’t going to be a secretary for all those years. He would finish school and provide for them, just as Carl once did. Janet would have a far more rewarding job, one he knew she’d love. Being a mother, raising their children, was a job for a lifetime. He’d had his turn at it, and thanked a genie he never met that he could offer the same opportunity to the love of his life.

Games Even the mighty like to play. When genies play games, the objects of their attention must learn the rules. And fast.

From the tiniest seeds grow the greatest of wonders. When the Choir Invisible played the music that created all that is, was, and ever will be, a single singer was late with a single note. That one misplaced note left a void in Creation, a piece that was left unmade.

From that void have sprung dragons, titans, and genies. Though they have caused much chaos, the wonders and marvels that they leave in their wake have created a vivid world of imagination that lives beside the world of reality. It is in the delay of a single singer that the hand of the Creator is manifest.

Deep in that unknowable void a conclave of mighty genies meets. Creation trembles in anticipation.

“So how do we judge this one?”

“Usual. Who does the most ironic twisting? Hey, you got any corn dogs? I love those things.”

“So make some. They’re disgusting and no way I’m creating them. We can’t just go for irony, the conditions would be pointless.”

“I’ll buy that. So who can get the biggest twist from intentions just by the conditions you spelled out.”

“Who judges?”

“Me. I’m fair.”

“Phhht.”

“Consensus vote.”

“Oh yeah, that always works well. We each wind up getting one vote.”

“Can’t vote for yourself.”

“And if mine really is the best?”

“Then you’ll get four votes. Still can’t vote for yourself.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

---

The young woman walked down the street while talking to her phone, ignoring everyone around her. It wasn’t a problem, everyone else was doing the same thing, each wrapped up in a conversation that was important enough to ignore the world around him.

“There were at least twenty at the casting call, but, yeah, I think I got a shot at it.” Pause. “Yeah, I think the marketing guys liked my hair best. Of course I know they’re the ones who’re important here.”

Weaving through the crowd without seeing a single person, she continued, “Oh yeah, she was there but is just out of luck. Completely luckless. Total bad hair day. So I’ve at least got her out of the way.”

Tracey was a good looking woman; tall, thin, and fit. Shoulder length brown hair with frosted tips drew eyes to her clear face, but they swiftly drifted down to her ample chest. If she lived anywhere but Hollywood she’d be a striking beauty. In Tinseltown she was one more pretty wannabe actress among hundreds.

“Oh, I don’t know. Dog food, I think. Their agent was doable, that’s for sure. Yeah, I’ve seen the director before. He did that soup commercial I didn’t get. Whatever. I can work with him. Just need them to call me.”

She had another casting call that morning and then she had to get to her paying job. Her car was in the shop and she didn’t have money for a cab, so she was on foot. Better than missing an audition. This one might be her ticket to stardom, but only if she showed up. She was lucky both auditions were in the same area, but she’d have made it, somehow, even if they were at opposite ends of the state.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Tracey continued to her phone, “the next one’s the big one. No, just breakfast cereal. One of the ones that’s all sugar. No, Ive never tried it. Oh, yeah, they’ve got Bruce Willis for this one, so I could get to work with him. No, don’t be silly, he won’t be at a cattle call, but some of his people will, so I can do some networking. Never know…

“Oh, here I am. Gotta go get my face on. Say hi to Ken for me. See ya later.”

She walked into a room full of beautiful women and signed in. Then headed right to the bathroom to straighten her hair and fix up her makeup before they called her number.

A few long hours later she ran from the studio to catch her bus. As soon as she found a seat she dug out her phone and started checking messages. She updated her Facebook status, lying that she was hopeful she’d get the part. She knew better, but maybe it would pressure the car commercial people who’d been waffling between her and another girl for a week now.

She ran into the mall and headed to Macy’s. In the employee’s restroom she quickly changed and fixed her makeup again. Looking pretty was a primary qualification at the perfume counter, even if her job was mostly to spritz people walking by.

She knew she was lucky to have a job at all. At the cereal audition, three actresses she knew confided that they’d have to go home if they didn’t get a gig. Bringing in money meant she could stay in town longer, and that gave her more auditions, more chances for a break. She wanted to keep her job, so she did it with the same heart she threw in to her auditions.

Quickly changing and taking her place on the floor she prepared herself for a long shift. She locked her smile in place and started greeting shoppers.

“Tracey,” snapped a floor manager, “clean up the cabinets.”

“Yes sir,” she smiled while picturing herself coming back some day as a star with an entourage and seeing him fall over himself to escort her around.

With pleasant daydreams running through her head she unlocked the cabinet and started straightening and cleaning the bottles. Suddenly the noise stopped.

No muzak.

No bustling crowd.

Not even crickets. Not that there were crickets in the Mall or possibly anywhere in LA. It’s just that movies had conditioned her to expect to hear crickets when it got quiet.

And why did it get so quiet anyway?

She turned around slowly, expecting a man in a hockey mask. Or a crowd of zombies.

“Hi there. About time,” said a little girl in a gingham dress. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old.

“About time for what?”

“About time you rubbed my bottle and let me out,” the girl piped. “You can’t imagine how terrible it is to be trapped in there. I mean, that stuff smells nice at first, and in small doses, but try living in it.”

“Oh. My. God.” Tracey exploded. “You live in a bottle. You’re a genie. You’re going to give me wishes.”

The little girl looked around nonplussed. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Oh this is fantastic. I wish I was a–”

“Hold on,” the little girl shouted. “First, there are rules I’ve got to– And what’s with this ‘you’re a genie’ stuff? No one believes in genies anymore. I like convincing people.”

Tracey bent down to her height, “Well, you came out after I rubbed a bottle, said you lived there, and stopped time. I didn’t see any better explanation.”

“Hmph,” she snorted. “Fine. Then there’s no point in the disguise either.”

She grew suddenly, ending up an inch taller than Tracey. Her hair turned from blond with pigtails to brunette, falling lusciously down past her tiny waist. Her poor homespun dress turned into something smooth and shimmery. “That’s better. Stand up, Tracey dear, you don’t need to kneel to me.”

She was still bending down to talk to the little girl. The genie’s size change took her by surprise, but she recovered. With the same single mindedness that kept her going to audition after audition despite nothing but rejections, she asked, “So, about the wishes?”

The genie scowled, “Changing size like that isn’t easy. A little appreciation wouldn’t hurt.”

It dawned on Tracey that the genie liked performing. She needed to cultivate her like she was a talent scout or producer. “Oh, it was very impressive, I’m sure. You just made it look so easy I didn’t even think how much had to go into it. I guess that’s the down side of being so good at it, you make everyone think there’s nothing to it.”

That brought a smile to the genie’s lips, “I guess it does at that. Thank you,” she said with a small curtsy. “Now, like I said, we have rules for wishes. You’ll get three wishes, but you have to wish them all before I grant any of them. All your wishes must have prepositions in them, and I can change any prepositions at will, with any other changes to make sure the wish still makes sense. Fair enough?”

“Oh. Uh. Prepositions?”

The genie groaned.

---

“Just a second,” Tracey said triumphantly as she pulled out her phone. A moment later she asked sheepishly, “Can I get internet access?”

The tall, glamorous woman tapped her foot impatiently. “A preposition is a word governing the relation between a noun and– Sure. You have access,” she said with a negligent toss of her hand. “I’ll just sample some of the wares while you read.” The fact that the cabinets were locked did not hinder her and she began collecting perfumes and makeup.

Tracey was dreaming of fame and fortune and trying to figure out how to ensure there was a preposition in each wish.

“What if I don’t have a preposition in a wish?”

The genie looked over, “Then I don’t grant that wish. You lose one third of them. Try including one.”

“Then I wish I could work with Angelina Jolie,” she blurted.

“Good. Wished.”

“Wait. I can do better. That’s just one job. Let me do it better.”

“No can do. No backsies.”

“This is harder than it looks,” she complained.

“Everything is,” the genie quipped while trying a completely unnecessary concealer.

Working with Angelina would get her exposure and a job, but she wanted more. She wanted to rule this town. That took a lot of movies. She still had two wishes left, she could do this.

Just had to make sure to include a preposition.

“Could you help me out? If I tell you what I want, could you help me make the wish right?”

The lady started, honestly surprised. She laughed, “I didn’t think people could still surprise me. I believe you’re the first person to ever ask me that. Yes, you are. In all of history, you are the first person to ever ask me to help make a wish.”

It wasn’t mocking laughter. She wasn’t laughing at Tracey. It was honest laughter from surprise and amusement. Then it stopped.

“No. I won’t help you. You’re on your own.”

Tracey pouted, even though she knew it wouldn’t help.

“Can I think about it?”

“As long as you want. The whole world’s frozen, though, so you might want to wish before you get hungry. Or have to pee,” she added.

“Fine. I get it. OK, forget it. I’ve got my next wish. I wish I would be in two movies a year for the next ten years.” That should cover her.

“Twenty movies. Two a year for ten years. Wished. One more. What will it be?”

That would handle her profession. She should have wished she starred in the movies, but she knew she had talent. If she could get in, she’d have a hit. Still, money wouldn’t hurt. And maybe something on the love life so she wouldn’t have to worry. She had it.

“Last one, then. I wish I had a rich boyfriend to take care of me.”

The genie sighed heavily, “Asking for my help was such a promising start, but then you got so predictable. Fine. Come with me.”

Tracey followed her through a crowd of statues.

---

“Let me get my purse.”

“Don’t bother,” answered the genie. “It’s not yours anymore.”

“What do you mean,” she asked with a touch of worry.

“I mean that purse belongs to Tracey Clint, and you’re not Tracey Clint anymore. She isn’t the person who can fulfill your wishes, so you’re not her anymore.”

Nervously, she looked in one of the store mirrors. She was still herself.

“Yes I am,” she insisted.

The genie stopped. “We’re moving through space, not time. As we get closer to our goal you will become who you need to be.”

“Where are we going?”

“Paramount Studios, Sound Stage C.”

“Why?”

“That’s where Angelina Jolie is working on Dead Plains Drifter.”

She jumped with excitement and nearly twisted her ankle. Jumping in heels is not a good idea. It wasn’t nearly enough to spoil her mood.

“Yes. Oh, fantastic. What’s my role? Who do I play?”

The genie kept walking, not saying a word but smiling grimly. Finally she said, “No one. You’re not in the movie.”

“But that was my wish.”

“It was indeed,” the genie agreed. “But I got to change the preposition. You are working for Angelina Jolie. Not with.”

“Oh,” she slumped.

The tap-tap-tap of her heels on the sidewalk changed and her feet dropped. She looked down and saw she was wearing flats. Brown. Probably better for an assistant since she’d be running around a lot.

She tried to look on the bright side. She’d be on a movie set and could meet a lot of important people. If she impressed Ange– Ms. Jolie, she could still go far. And she had her other wishes too.

Despite losing her heels her head was at the same height. She’d gotten taller. Her skirt got longer and divided. She was wearing a pantsuit. That was a unusual for her. She liked to show off her legs, but she’d wear the uniform if she had to.

“Soon you’ll figure it out,” the genie said cryptically.

“Figure what out,” Tracey asked. “What’s up with my voice? Am I a smoker now?” Her voice was huskier than she was used to.

“While working on a set? Please. Bombers, psychopaths, and rapists can be forgiven. Smokers, never.”

When she lost her nail polish and saw hair on her arms she figured it out.

“You’re turning me into a man,” she accused.

“Not at all. You are a man, and have been since you finished your wishes. I’m just bringing you to the place where that will be obvious.”

“But I don’t want to be a man. I like who I am.”

“Then you shouldn’t have made any wishes. Too bad. Your name is Hans. Hans Smithfelt.”

“What if I stop moving? Will I stop changing if I stay away from the studio?”

“Yes. Until you starve to death. No, that’s a lie. You’ll die of thirst first.”

She could still be in the movies, she thought. And walked.

Her pantsuit became a suit. Grey slacks, white shirt, thin black tie and a sport jacket. Her breasts collapsed into a flat chest. Her hair was short and slicked back, and she had a pair of glasses.

Even knowing it was coming she was surprised when she felt a growth at her groin and had to change the way she walked to avoid rubbing it.

“Here we are, Hans,” the genie said, handing him a small box. “Welcome to your new life.”

She vanished, and in an instant people were moving around him. He’d never been so happy to hear sounds.

“There you are,” a woman said to him. He looked up to see Angelina Jolie. Remembering something he didn’t know a moment before he made sure not to look her in the eyes. “Tea,” she demanded.

He handed her the box he was carrying, hoping that it held her tea. It was.

It was a long day. He was little more than a gofer. “Get the new script pages,” Ms. Jolie commanded. It was the first thing she’d said to him since she demanded her tea. It was also a chance to impress her so he took off at a run. People got out of his way. A running man must have a mission. He liked that.

“Can I get the new pages for Ms. Jolie?” he asked at the writer’s pit. He wasn’t sure how he knew where to go. Genie’s work, he guessed.

“You can go to the trailer, you know. You don’t have to come all the way down here.”

“How else can I make sure I’ve got the latest?”

“Are you bringing in more donuts tomorrow?”

A bit confused at the change of topic, he decided “Sure thing.”

“Then here are the changes we’re looking at for tomorrow too. They’re not final,” he warned.

Hans didn’t get any acknowledgment when he handed the pages to his boss, but she did smile slightly. He’d done good.

At the end of the day he found his address in his wallet. He looked for his purse before catching himself. He had a car, a Prius. It had a GPS inside, so he didn’t have to worry about finding his way home, to a much nicer neighborhood than he used to live in.

Things were looking up as he climbed the stairs to his second floor walk in.

“Well hello there, stranger. Long day, huh?”

He snapped his head around in surprise. A shockingly handsome red haired man rolled out in a wheelchair. He was smiling, but Hans could tell he was putting on a front. Somehow he didn’t mind. It was better to pretend to be cheerful than to wallow in pain.

“Hello yourself,” he answered back.

“Are you going to make me stand up before I get a kiss today,” he asked teasingly.

The third wish. He wanted a rich boyfriend to take care of him. It looked like he’d be caring for his rich boyfriend instead. He could live with that, he thought as he crouched down to give him a welcoming kiss. There was something enchanting about him, working so hard to appear cheerful despite pain.

“I heard a tasty rumor today. They’ll be looking for a director for that horror pic in a few months. If you can get a good recommendation from Angelina, I bet you’d be a shoe-in.”

Hans smiled, “I’ll work on her. I bet I would, long as I have a good luck charm like you in my corner. But that is for tomorrow.”

There was another advantage to being a man. He could lift his boyfriend out of his chair to carry him.

Games Even the mighty like to play. When genies play games, the objects of their attention must learn the rules. And fast.

Leprechauns hide their gold at the end of the rainbow. The Vikings thought it was a bridge to Asgard. To Christians and Jews it is a covenant written in the sky. Modern men think it is light refracted through water droplets suspended in the sky.

None of them are right.

It is not the ends of the rainbow that matter but the thing itself. It is not a sign or a promise or a reflection. The rainbow is the intrusion of an otherworldly realm into our own. Light scatters in terror at the interloping world, the first sign of the destruction that will fall upon all of reality should it get any further.

It is strange indeed that destruction looks so beautiful.

When genies meet in the City of Brass, rainbows multiply on Earth. People stare and point and even take pictures. Fewer than one in a million quakes in terror, knowing what is coming.

“Game on. Ready– go.”

“Hold on there. Let’s make it a little more fun.”

“What do you have in mind, sweet cheeks?”

“No taking our bottles. We find new ones.”

“Don’t be an idiot, I’m not traveling without my bottle.”

“Scared to operate without your crutch? Can’t do it on your own?”

“Fine. New bottles.”

“And you. No cheating.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Now. Go.”

And there were no genies in the City of Brass.

---

Darren looked away from the window before slinking to his room. He already knew what he’d see outside. He could hear them outside chanting and shouting at him.

His mother watched him sadly as he marched up the stairs like he was going to the gallows. She didn’t say a word, and that cut deeper than the chanting crowd outside. Darren knew she believed him, she’d said so. Sometimes he thought he saw something different. She had doubts.

The letter was on his desk.

“The National High School Triathlon Competition has considered your appeal. Your invitation to compete this year remains rescinded. As your school suspension is of indefinite length you do not qualify for this event. Our organization does not tolerate sexual assault.”

It was just one in a pile of letters, but it hurt more than the rest. He’d attended the State competition for the last three years, but this was the first time he’d made it to Nationals. He had a solid shot at winning. Now gone.

While getting kicked out of Nationals hurt, he knew he had bigger problems to face. The meeting yesterday with his lawyer laid it all out.

“It’s a good deal they’re offering. No jail time, just community service and supervised probation. It also avoids the publicity that’s sure to follow with a trial.”

“But Darren would go on the sex offender’s registry,” his father pointed out. “That would kill his college chances and job opportunities. No. We won’t do it.”

The lawyer paused, and Darren knew bad news was coming. “I’ll be blunt, Mr. Hamn. The registry won’t make a difference. This case has gotten too much press. Darren will not be admitted to any major school. He’s going to have to settle for a community college. I’m afraid his employment options are similarly limited.”

That hit his father like a blow, and Darren flinched. “No,” his Dad insisted. “Darren didn’t molest that girl and we’re not going to say he did. If the judge finds him innocent, it’s got to–” He trailed off helplessly.

His mother looked like she was about to say something but she just leaned over and put her hand on his Dad’s arm. She wanted to take the deal, but she wouldn’t fight with Dad. She believed Darren, he hoped, but she was tired of the pressure and didn’t think they could win.

“We’ll talk about it again later,” the lawyer hedged, “the offer’s good for two weeks. Let’s go over your story,” he turned to Darren. “It’s important that you don’t change anything.”

“It’s not a story,” he insisted, “It’s the truth.”

“Of course,” the lawyer said without the slightest pretense he believed it.

“I’d asked Sally out a few times and…”

“How many and when,” interrupted the lawyer.

“Three times. The first was to a Halloween party, then the winter dance, and then last month to go to a movie. She always said no, but that last time she cut me down pretty hard. So, yeah, I got pissed off and called her a bitch, and then I wanted to get back at her so I started telling people that she’d given Satoru a hand job in return for letting her cheat off him in a math test.”

“I will advise you again that I don’t recommend admitting to bullying or harassment. Juries will hold that against you,” the lawyer said.

“Well, I did,” Darren admitted. He might have been ashamed of himself if not for what followed. His tribulations had washed his sins from him so he was as pure as the driven snow. “It’s the only reason I can think of for what she did.

“It was two weeks after that, and her friend Cathy asked me out behind the bleachers after school. I mean, I thought she wanted to fool around so I went with her. We just talked, that was all. Yeah, I copped a feel when we were done, but I thought that’s what she wanted and she didn’t complain.

“The first I heard about Sally was when the police came to question me. I never touched Sally. I hadn’t even seen her since English class that afternoon.”

“But no one saw you go behind the bleachers. Do you have any witnesses?”

“Cathy saw me,” he muttered sullenly. He knew what the answer was already.

“She denies it. It’s your word against hers.”

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Very well. I will warn you again,” he said to Darren and his parents, “against talking to the press. I know there are a lot of nasty stories out there, but we’re better off if the prosecution does not know our defense until discovery. We have a much better chance of poking holes in their story if they can’t prepare. Bad though the publicity may be, jail is worse.”

Darren hadn’t been in school since that day, since Sally’s parents got a restraining order keeping him 1000 feet away from her. Nationals was pretty much the only thing he had to look forward to, since they were a few hundred miles away from her. Now he didn’t even have that.

His wall of trophies sat there mocking him, knowing he’d never add any important ones to it. In a fit of rage he grabbed one and almost threw it at the wall. Stopping just in time, he put it back and rubbed off his fingerprints. It wouldn’t do to have someone outside get this on their cell phone and make him look prone to fits of rage.

“Thanks buddy. I wasn’t looking forward to hitting the wall there. Mighta gotten mad if you busted up my home.”

There was a small green man with a large head and antennae sitting on his dresser. Very small. Less than a foot high.

“Gazoo?”

“Son of a– You’d think Bill Hanna would have been more grateful for those wishes. Instead he’s made me a bloody laughingstock. No. I am not Gazoo,” the little guy practically yelled. While going through his tirade he floated off the dresser and hovered in midair. Just like in the Flintstones.

“Got it,” Darren said quickly. “So what do I call you?”

“Kazam,” he answered. Then added, “Yeah, I know. Alla Kazam. That’s me. Another guy I helped a long time ago. Let it go.”

“OK, sure. Kazam, are you here to…”

“You betcha. Your problems are solved. I’m here to grant you” he paused dramatically and lifted his tiny arms over his head, “three wishes.”

“Oh God. Thank you.” His prayers were answered. He wanted to believe it so badly he didn’t question it. A genie. Sure, no problem. “You can save me from this nightmare. I wish–”

“Hold on, kid,” the tiny floating green man cautioned, “it’s not that simple. There are some conditions on the wishes.”

“What are they? It doesn’t matter,” he rushed to say.

“It matters, boyo, it matters. See, if you get any of your wishes wrong, if you don’t meet the conditions, you don’t get any of them. So pay attention. And I don’t mean pay attention like you do at school where you nod along while I’m talking, I mean pay attention like you have to listen if you want to get any wishes.”

Darren nodded and listened.

“You must make all three wishes before I grant any of them. Each wish must contain a comparison; greater, less than, same as, I don’t care. I can grant the wish by changing either side of the comparison.”

Kevin looked confused, so Kazam clarified, “OK, let’s say you wish you had as much money as Bill Gates. I can do that by having you come into billions, or Mr. Microsoft can meet a sudden disaster and his bank account will be equal to yours. Got it now?”

He nodded. The crowd outside was still chanting about justice and vengeance, but if he could make the right wishes they’d soon stop.

---

Darren thought.

He wanted to wish that Sally would tell the truth, or that she’d never accused him in the first place, but he couldn’t see how to do that with Kazam’s rules.

“What’re all these trophies for anyway,” the diminutive genie asked.

“Triathlon, mostly. A few other track and field, but it’s mostly triathlon.”

“You must be good at it then. Gonna wish to be as good as the best?”

“No chance,” he replied, surprising himself with his vehemence. His dreams of glory had turned to ashes with the rejection letter on his desk. They wouldn’t even give him a chance. It was a bitter pill to swallow and he wasn’t ready to forgive and forget.

No, it was more than that. He’d seen his parents’ fear. He was a good athlete - no, he was a great one. But that was all. If he lost that, and he’d seen how easy it was to lose, he lost everything. He shouldn’t be worrying so much about the future, but he couldn’t help it when he saw the panic in his father’s eyes.

Now he had a chance, if he used it right, to get out of the whole mess. He was through with triathlon, through with athletics. It all fell apart too easily. He’d give his parents a better reason to be proud of him.

“Too bad,” said the genie, “I like sports wishes. It gives me an excuse to watch the events. Still, just as likely I’d have ruined the other guy for fun,” an evil grin spread across his tiny face, “and you might like watching him. So probably a good choice.”

“There’s that too,” Darren mumbled. The wishes could go either way. He might better his situation or make someone else’s worse.

It made his first wish an easy one.

“I wish Sally was in more trouble than I am now.”

That should do. She could get in a lot of trouble, or he’d get out of it. Either way was fine with him.

“I can work with that,” said Kazam mysteriously. He floated over Darren’s head for a few minutes while the boy thought about his next two wishes.

Already he could feel the temptation to get back into sports, mixed with his revulsion of the same idea. No. School. He would concentrate on school, make his parents proud, and get himself the skills he’d need. He could just wish for smarts or grades, but he still liked to compete. An edge, that was all he needed.

“I wish I studied for school even more than Satoru.”

“And one more,” the genie cried while lying down on his back in midair.

One more wish.

His friends, or people he thought were his friends, deserted him after he was arrested. Even his oldest friend, Sam, stopped talking to him as his trial became a full blown scandal. He could get back at them.

But then he thought about his parents. They disagreed how to handle this, but his mother always supported Dad, and they were both stronger for it. He wouldn’t get in trouble with girls again if he had someone like that.

“I wish I had someone who loved and trusted me as much as Mom does Dad.”

“Got it,” Kazam said and vanished with a pop.

---

Darren walked to the window. The chanting was still going. He could see the crowd through the blinds. He waited for another pop.

The rejection letter from Nationals was still on his desk. No luck there either. He’d wanted all his problems to just go away.

He shook his head, wondering for a moment if he was going crazy. Maybe he’d imagined the whole thing. No, it was too weird. He couldn’t have made it up, it had to be real.

Even suspended, he still had schoolwork. It was hard to concentrate so he was way behind. It also wasn’t going to get better on its own so he pulled out a history book and started reading. He read for over an hour before he wondered if that was an effect of his wish. He hoped so; he didn’t have anything against Satoru and didn’t really want to see his work suffer.

He suddenly realized what he’d done. His wish might have made Satoru slack off in school. He didn’t really care about the bookworm, but his last wish might break up his parents.

“G– Good night, Mom,” he called. “Where’s Dad?”

“On the phone, hon. Don’t interrupt him. Good night.”

He couldn’t tell if he’d done anything to them. He was too tired to find out. He stumbled to his bed and fell fast asleep.

And woke to police sirens.

He leapt from bed and fell flat on the floor. He was all wrong, shorter, no muscles. He was wearing a nightshirt rather than his PJ’s. Hair past his shoulders, and weight on his chest.

And there was too much noise and commotion outside to concentrate but he had to.

Something was seriously wrong.

He wasn’t himself.

Stumbling to the door he hit the light switch like it was going to hit back. There was a pretty girl staring back at him from the mirror. She moved with him, it was him. It wasn’t his room either.

His door slammed open, a policeman moved smoothly into the room, gun drawn.

“Against the wall,” he ordered Darren as his partner followed him into the room. Darren followed orders, and a moment later the officer asked him, “Are you all right? Have you seen or heard anyone come through here?”

“No,” he answered and grabbed at his throat. The high pitched voice coming from his mouth wasn’t his. The police either didn’t notice his reaction or put it off to fear. “I was asleep. I didn’t hear anything until your sirens.”

The second officer said, “Please come with me. I’ll take you to your Aunt and Uncle. Just stay calm, miss.”

He didn’t know what was going on.

It had to have something to do with the wish, but he couldn’t see what. He felt strange. His body was so much weaker than he was used to, and his balance was way off. He stumbled on the stairs and nearly fell. This girl’s body was awkward and clumsy.

“What happened,” he asked as soon as he saw his parents.

“Pam, thank heavens you’re all right,” his mother screamed as she enveloped him in a deep hug. She didn’t let go, just started crying right into his shoulder. He hugged her back, trying to figure out what was going on.

“It’s… It’s Darren,” his father finally said when his mother backed away and they all sat down. “He’s missing. The police caught that girl Sally running away from the house. Oh God. She had a knife and we don’t know…” He’d never seen his father cry before. No matter how bad the crowds or stories got he’d always been a rock. Not now.

He couldn’t tell his father the truth. No one would believe him. He also couldn’t bear to watch him suffer without doing anything.

He gave his father a hug. “It’ll be all right Uncle Andy. It has to be,” he said, remembering the policeman told him they were his Aunt and Uncle.

He knew his father well. He couldn’t let a girl suffer, and soon his father was hugging him back to try to give him strength. “We’ll wait here while the police search the house, then try to find out where she took our boy,” he croaked helplessly.

While they waited Darren looked around the room. A new picture on the wall stood out. His Uncle James and Aunt Lorraine, his mother’s sister, hadn’t been there before. They’d died when he was just a boy, their little girl with them. Their little girl, Pam. Same age as him. But now she hadn’t died. She had moved in with them. She was in the family pictures, with her parents and Darren, with him.

He had a sinking feeling that no one would ever find Darren.

And that Sally was going to be in far more trouble than he was.

It was a long and unpleasant night. The police sealed his old room and did not let any of them in, but he saw blood on the walls when they opened the door. His parents held each other through the vigil, and he found some minor relief that he didn’t destroy their marriage.

The crowd that had been harassing Darren started to reassemble as soon as the sun came up. For a change it didn’t get started. The police cars put them off and most people left without demonstrating. Some braver souls asked what happened and left hurriedly when they found out that Darren had been attacked. Only one person had the bad taste to cheer the news, and Darren rejoiced when a cop started questioning him.

A small scuffle by the side of the house drew his attention - her attention, if she could ever get used to thinking of herself as a girl. He heard his father say “Let him in, we know him.”

His old friend Sam was just hearing that he was dead. “No, I can’t believe it,” he insisted. His father tried to tell him more, but was having trouble getting the words out.

Darren pulled Sam aside. “Pam, I’m so sorry to hear. I hope they find him, he might still be…” Despite his shock, Sam was trying to cheer him up - Darren was already getting tired of everyone assuming he was frail.

“Sam, it’s all right. It’s me. It’s Darren,” he whispered. “There are genies. I made a wish, and this happened. It got me out of the whole trial, but…”

“Darren? Really? That’s– well, that’s fantastic.”

“That’s all it takes? You believe me?”

“Of course,” he answered simply. “If you say so, then I trust you.”

His third wish. Love and trust. Like his mother for his dad.

Sam? With him?

That sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach returned with a vengeance.

Games Even the mighty like to play. When genies play games, the objects of their attention must learn the rules. And fast.

Outside the Universe, unbound by physical laws, sits the City of Brass. An empty room waits deep in the city, and when a room in the city is empty, it is truly empty. Not only is there nothing on the walls, there are no walls. The room does not exist when it is empty, it is nothing but empty space.

Even empty space is full compared to this.

And then it is not empty.

Shag carpeting covers the floor and goes right to walls decorated with chrome and neon. Curving sofas give plenty of room to sit and are conveniently located by the fully stocked bar. Party decorations litter the floor along with spilled food and drink.

Five genies are in the room that didn’t exist. They act as though no time has passed since they started their contest.

Then again, it didn’t.

For beings of their power, time is strictly optional.

“That was fun. Now to pick a winner.”

“No need. It was me, let’s just acclaim it and get on with the party.”

“Oh please, get real. You can’t possibly think you beat me. Mine was brilliant.”

“Get out. An imp could have done better than that.”

“We did agree to vote on it, no voting for yourself. How about we do what we said? If nothing else, it’ll be a pleasant change.”

“Then how about a show? Tell each other what we did.”

“We already know.”

“OK, let’s change it up. Look in on our marks a year later.”

“Why not? You go first.”

---

A crowd swirled around the young man in glasses. “Rewrites in for approval in 20.” “Lighting needs input, are we still cloudy?” “They’re sobering her up, she’ll be ready for the noon shoot.” “Props has a fix, they want to run it by you.”

Each person got a nod, a few words, or a short acknowledgment that he’d get back to them. “Looks like we’re 30 minutes behind on the set, spread the word,” he announced. “I’ll be with lighting for when the next emergency pops up,” he told the aide standing at his side.

“Got it, sir,” was the instant response.

Hans Smithfelt was in constant motion for several hours, only sitting during the brief rehearsals and filmings. After each one, he jumped right back into motion, with orders or questions for cast and crew.

“Break for lunch,” he finally ordered. “Be back on set in one hour, people.”

While most of the crew ate the fine lunch, he went back to his trailer. “How are you doing, handsome?”

“Fantastic,” his lover replied weakly from his chair. “I can’t believe all this. Robert Downey Jr. stopped by this morning just to say hello.”

“He’s a great guy. I’ll have to thank him for that.” With a quick kiss, Hans added, “Only got an hour, so how about some lunch?”

“It’s ready. Your first movie hasn’t even hit the theaters yet, how’d you ever get this one?”

With a smile and a laugh, “Luck, the support of a loving guy, and just a little bit of magic.”

---

“Hah,” laughed the little girl, “I knew I liked him. Smart. He figured out that I switched being in two movies a year to being over two a year, as the director. So he takes advantage of it. The wish guarantees him two movies a year, so he only tries to get two. He knows they’ll have to hire him, so he only goes after the best.”

“What, you’re proud of the fact that you were outsmarted?”

“Not so much outsmarted,” she said as she changed back to her adult form, “as that he’s making the most of what he got. I thought he had it in him back when he was Tracey and asked for my help making his wishes. Take advantage of anything you’ve got at hand. Moxie. It’s a good thing, and I like seeing it.”

With a grin, “Besides, I like Robert Downey Jr, and it’s looking like a great movie.”

“Hey, let me just compliment her on good conditions. The seemed clear and simple but left a lot of room for changes. She had to change the grammar a bit on that last, the whole care of to care for thing, but it was tricky and a good job.”

“I think not. There’s no sense of irony, no cosmic justice involved. Far from it, she just gave him a better life than he had.”

“I’m not having that,” the lady replied as she shifted into the form of a crone. “I gave him a chance, but he’s the one who took it. Working for that starlet wasn’t easy, but it was those recommendations that got him the director’s job - the wish could just as easily made him a lighter and working over the movies literally. And the boyfriend gives him money, but it’s also a lot of work caring for him, and he’s doing it well. No, all I gave was options. The better life comes from working at it.”

“I like it. Some tough challenges, but if he can meet them why not let him have the rewards? Pretty clever - and hey, some time we can catch those movies maybe?”

“Yeah, of course you’d like it. You like happy endings way too much. Let me show you how it’s done.”

---

The screen changed. A graveyard at night.

---

“See that? It doesn’t take long. Clean, simple, no muss, no fuss.” The small green man floated around happily.

“Sorry old man, but you need to give us more than that. How did she die? What did it have to do with your wishes? You know the rules. Explain.”

“He,” Kazam emphasized the gender, “never had a chance. He was isolated. All his peers blamed him for Sally’s troubles due to proximity. With his new body he needed friends if he was going to adapt.

“He should have stuck with sports, he’d have had friends. His wish compelled him to spend his time alone, studying. The only friend he had was Sam, and Sam put too much pressure on him to be a girl. Isolate and ruin, easy as pie.”

“So killing the boy was your goal? Suicide was not his only option, he could have made it. I’ve seen it before. They’re stronger than you credit.”

“Of course that was my goal,” he exploded. “They’re nothing but upjumped monkeys. If they dare to fool with the very basic stuff of creation they deserve nothing but destruction.”

The others stared him down. There had been a time genies went to war over their differing goals. Whole galaxies had been destroyed. A single crack ran through the wall around the City of Brass. That scared them into a truce. Kazam caught himself and stopped.

“Of course he might have adapted. He loved his parents and wanted to live for their sake. It was his friend who made sure he wouldn’t. Every time he thought about changing, about being a girl, he was faced with the thought of loving Sam. Isolated, alone, his old life destroyed by his wish, guilty because his parents mourned his death, guilty because the girl suffered for a crime he knew she didn’t commit… He couldn’t take it and saw only one way out.”

“All right. Distasteful or not it’s a fair result of the wish. Your conditions were honest. You even gave him what he asked for in each case. The result wasn’t what he expected but he did it to himself.”

“Darn straight.”

“Hmph, yes. I think you can do better– no, he had his say and I’m having mine. You took the easy way out and just aimed for destruction. If you want to show we’re superior try to make them better. Now I’ll stop. I’m not starting up the wars again.”

Silence fell.

“Ahem. Right. Just so. Why don’t I pick up from here?”

---

Jessica strutted down the sidewalk, her heels clicking with each step. She was reading the signs in the shops, stopping to sound out the names. “Ben-ni-gans.” Later, “Star-bucks.”

Reading was tough. It wasn’t just the effort, it dredged up disturbing memories and made her feel like something was wrong. Walking in heels, for instance, was natural but somehow not. But then she’d see herself in the windows, strike a pose and admire the way they made her legs look. The leggings and skirt helped. A little kick made her look sprightly.

And all those nasty memories went away.

“The Chop-per Shop,” she read. “This is it,” she cried excitedly to anyone watching her.

“Hello there, gorgeous,” Tom said as she came in. “Hey folks, this is Jessie.”

She almost turned around, then remembered that was her. She wished Tom would settle on one name for her. Jessica, Jess, Jessie, it got really confusing sometimes. And she could have sworn he called her something else once, something that was really her name. But she forgot about that when he came over and gave her a kiss. It felt too good to worry about anything.

“This is what we did with the money, babe. Our own bike shop. Here’s the sales floor, the shop’s in back. We do custom jobs and sell ‘em straight. What d’you think?”

Tom wanted her opinion. She was so proud. He’d been talking about this a lot. She remembered he owned it. So she looked around before answering.

“Oooh, it’s pretty. The motorcycles are all shiny.” She jumped up and down to show him how excited she was.

“Your wife can come by any time, boss. Keeping her on the floor’ll increase traffic all by her lonesome.”

Tom smiled at the man, so Jessica decided he was making a joke. But Tom didn’t laugh, so she didn’t either. It mustn’t have been funny. “Come on, babe, let me show you around.”

---

“Had we merely looked half an hour later when they went back into Tom’s office we would have seen how much Jessica enjoys the result of her wishes. Perhaps we should take a look, just to be complete…”

“I think we’ve seen enough, Monty.”

“Very well, be a killjoy. It was all the result of her wishes. My conditions were simple to understand, clearly stated, and she still set herself up. As you can see, she is quite happy with the result.”

“Hardly fair. She’s not even bright enough to know what’s wrong.”

“Yeah, your taste in bimbos comes through again.”

“I reiterate, it was her wish. I merely followed through, per the terms of our arrangement. And she’s brighter than you might think. Very… imaginative. Again, let’s jump ahead that half hour.”

“That’s not necessary. I mean, I hate to admit it, but the beauty and stupidity were straight from the wish, so that’s fair. But the increased sex drive, let’s face it, is all you Montague.”

“Weren’t you just lecturing us to be kind to these humans? That helped her adapt to her new form and ensures her constant happiness. And if her loveliness and– enthusiasm should also happen to bring joy to the men nearby, who am I to complain?”

“Hah. I’m not complaining. Only thing is, as dumb as she is, how did she get a degree?”

“It’s not doing her any good, for certain. Still, I am not the one who made the wishes. In answer, her matriculation was accomplished on her knees and on her back.”

“Whatever. So how much money did you wind up wasting on them on this wish?”

“She did quite well. Thirty five million, I believe. Tom has handled it for them. He has… other distractions than drinking and partying now. They don’t need the new business, in truth, but it is something he’s always wanted to do. I am certain his colleague was correct that Jessica will be a draw in her own right.”

“Giving Jake as much time as he wanted to think over his wishes was a nice touch.”

“Thank you. I prefer the classic touch of letting people make their own pressure. It lacks a certain je ne sais quoi to rush them through.”

“Yeah, I know you’re talking about me. Real subtle. I haven’t done this as much as the rest of you. But let’s take a look. My turn.”

---

“Sally,” a man called.

“Yes, Mr. Mariano,” the woman curtsied.

“I’m bringing back some clients tonight. Make sure the dining room is spotless and set out the good stuff.” With a critical eye he added, “Wear a shorter skirt.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered while trying to stop her cheeks from burning with shame.

“Come on Chris, busy day today.”

“Looking forward to it, Mr. Mariano.”

“One of these days I’ll expect you to start calling me Dad,” he responded.

Sally almost spoke, but a sharp glance from the smiling girl at the table shut her up instantly. With a grimace like she’d been hit, Sally ran to the kitchen and came back before the men left. “Coffee for the trip, sirs,” she offered.

With nothing more than a nod, Chris grabbed them and hurried to the car. She thought he looked good in his suit, but she couldn’t tell him unless she got permission.

When the men left she started clearing the table while Tiff– she couldn’t even think it, while Miss Moriano finished her breakfast. With a grin, the girl said “Go ahead.”

Sally stumbled like the hand holding her strings suddenly stopped. “It’s like he doesn’t even know who I am,” she whined. “I did this just to stay close to him and he barely even sees me.”

“He knows exactly who you are,” Miss Moriano replied. “You are Sally, the maid. Nothing more. Now, clear my plate. I’ll be going out for the day but expect my clothes cleaned and pressed for dinner tonight.”

Rigid again, she curtsied quickly, “Yes ma’am.” She took the dishes and started another long day while the younger girl went about her amusements.

---

“She’s got a miserable life in front of her and all due to her wishes. Just as stated.” The large blue genie waved his hand about dramatically.

“Well old bean, I have to give you this one. You certainly had the most complicated conditions. I’m still not sure I’ve got them figured out.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I know I’m the newest one at this. I mean, I was just so excited you all invited me here I guess I went a little bit overboard. Probably not in your league yet, but I’m working on it. Anyway, thanks for letting me play.”

“My word! What’s this? Modesty in a genie. This is a day for surprises. You may have won my vote there. And don’t worry so much, you’re doing fine. It takes practice is all.”

“Now wait a minute, here. You can’t go voting based on speeches. We’re competing over who did the best with the wishes.”

“The only rules we actually agreed on were that most votes win and you couldn’t vote for yourself. The contest is, well, a guideline.”

“His entry was too uneven. I mean, misery’s fine, but he didn’t spread it around much. He made the girl’s family rich enough to have a maid, and probably improved the boy’s life as well.”

“Sure,” the blue man jumped back, “it hardly seemed fair to ruin them when they weren’t the ones wishing.”

“What’s fair got to do with it? We’re genies.”

“Right. But if they stop wishing, then what are we?”

“You know, guys, I think this one might be dangerous some day. He’s a thinker. But sorry, Blue, I don’t think you’ll get my vote. The conditions were a bit too tough, pushing he into making the wishes was unnecessary, and yeah, the outcome is a little messy. A bit more, I don’t know, poetry, would have helped out.”

“Oh, that’s OK. Practice makes perfect, and it’s good to get the feedback, even if I don’t win,” he shrugged with a disarming grin.

“That modesty routine is very becoming, though. Keep that up as long as you can.”

“It’s disgusting, but the kid’s still in the lead. I can’t vote for myself and he’s the only other one of us to go for misery. Even bimbo-maker over there leaves everyone happy.”

“Really?” he smiled.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet. We still have mine to look over.”

---

“Oh my, he’s got quite the grip there. Don’t you, you cute little guy?”

“He’s just grabbing at anything you put in front of him,” Janet replied proudly. “You can see him trying to figure out the world.”

“Come here, Carl,” the woman on the couch said to the little baby as she picked him up out of the bassinet. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not. Carl loves his Auntie Donna, doesn’t he?”

The baby gurgled as she lifted him to her shoulder. “I told you my grandfather was named Carl, right? Yeah, this little guy’s going to be just as big and handsome as he was,” she said while tickling his stomach.

“I think you mentioned it,” Janet answered easily. “We liked the name, but I’m happy for the coincidence.”

While she’d wished to be in Virginia Beach to be near her granddaughter, she and Ed had agreed not to try to tell her who they really were. They’d gotten to be good friends with Donna and her husband, although it felt strange to have a granddaughter a few years older than them.

To be fair, it wasn’t the only strange thing they’d had to get used to. It barely made the top ten.

“How’re you two holding up? Is there anything we can do to help”

“Please,” Janet demurred, “you two have brought us so many dinners I’ve almost forgotten how to cook.”

The first time she tried to cook she made hamburgers. She’d grilled them as a man, how hard could they be? She wound up serving hockey pucks on bread because she’d gotten distracted by the broccoli that she wound up boiling into mush.

Ed offered to do the cooking; times had changed, it was all right for men to cook. She insisted. It was a way for her to show Ed she was going to try to be his wife. She was getting better at it. The cooking, that is. The being a wife, too.

It was a new life for them. They wanted to take advantage of the opportunity and try to do new things.

“Well, anything we can do to help, you can count on it.” Donna looked at the floor before speaking again, “I figure you’ll be able to return the favor soon.”

It took her a minute.

“What? Really? Congratulations, honey.”

She cried too loud in her excitement and Carl started fussing, so the two of them were distracted trying to quiet the demanding infant. Soon they had him back in his bassinet peacefully grabbing at a piece of colored plastic.

“Yeah, really,” Donna said quietly. “We wanted you to be the first to know. Well, first outside the family, I mean.” That hurt, but only a little. Family was important, and Donna didn’t know who they really were - or rather, who they used to be.

“We’d kept putting it off, wanting to be more established, have everything more in control. But then you two… Well, you were an inspiration to us.”

Only barely hiding her tears, she hugged her granddaughter gratefully.

---

“I thought they’d do well, as long as they stayed together,” said Daphne quietly. “Looks like I was right. I’m happy for them too.”

“Yes of course, because everything must be saccharine sweet–”

“Get off your high horse,” she shot back. “They didn’t have to. It’s not like a sex change wouldn’t throw off a lot of couples. They decided to stay together and to keep loving each other and they worked at it. They deserve the rewards.”

“I’m with her.”

“Thanks, but let me keep going here. He had his say, now it’s my turn. People are amazing, and they can be even more with a nudge here and there. We can do that. Give them a chance to fail, sure, but they also need a chance to succeed. You’ve got to leave that door open, and if they take it they get the rewards.

“Carl and Marjorie raised three kids to be great parents. It looks like they’re on the way to repeating that, and the world will be a better place for it. No matter what the outcome of this contest, I know the truth. I did good.”

“Well said, dear heart, but I think that calls for a change of topic back to the contest itself, don’t you? I can appreciate the artistry, and may I compliment you on that - Janet is a wonderful looking girl - but your conditions seemed flat. What was that bit about prime factors all about?”

“Ah,” she blushed, “I’d originally intended to say I could switch around the prime factors rather than the numbers themselves. But then I thought that would just make the whole thing too confusing. It encouraged him to spread out the numbers a little bit in the end.”

“It made him think a little bit longer about his numbers, so there’s that. And I liked them. Nice people. Good job.”

“I’ll echo that, and I thought it was a nice twist. Just switching numbers didn’t leave you a lot of room to play with his wishes. Making being a mother into a 21 year job was clever and well done.”

“Glad some people appreciate it. That’s everyone then. Shall we?”

An instant later.

“There it is. Two for the Lady, two for Blue, and one for Monty. Tie.”

“I went for you, Lady,” piped up Daphne. “What can I tell you? I like a happy ending.”

“Well I went with Blue, just like I said I would, and for the opposite reason as you,” snarled Kazam.

“I went Blue too, as I said. He’s an odd one, and I’m curious what he’ll do with his victory,” the Lady smiled.

“Um, I went with Monty,” said Blue. “Petty, maybe, but I thought Jessica was, well, hot.” He blushed as Monty grinned in appreciation.

“It should be quite obvious at this point,” Monty put in, “but my vote went to the Lady too. All talk of outcomes aside, I liked her conditions the best.”

“We didn’t actually set up rules for a tie. What do you say, Blue, shall we share the victory?”

“Really? We can do that?”

“We’re genies. We can do pretty much anything.”

“Sounds good.”

With a nod the others relinquished their control. For the remainder of the party Blue and the Lady could control them, their forms, memories, and personalities, as easily as they could a mortal.

For the near omnipotent genies, a night being at someone else’s whim is nothing more than a change of pace. Winners and losers alike consider the outcome a win – a wild night of fun.

And all it cost was chaos on Earth.