A Genie in a Jamby Oonah V. Joslin | |
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Chapter 10: Blacker Currents | |
‘Grrreetings, I am the Genie of the Jam.’
It was the standard hello, and on this occasion was accompanied by a sweet, heady smell of blackcurrants, which impressed even DJ in its potency. Olfactory enhancement had been entirely his own idea. It added a personal touch to the service which he believed would particularize the experience for each client.
He was shocked to find that the place he was standing in was utterly dark. He could see nothing and no one who might have summoned him. He reached a hand up to his hairline and scratched beneath the black turban. ‘What on earth is going on here?’ he said aloud.
Echoes reverberated around the hollow chamber. It was even darker than the gem mines, whose fiery living stones ever pulsated within its walls, so that only in the tunnels in between the caverns was there complete darkness. Crouching down to feel the floor beneath him, he found it cold and smooth but not quite flat. It seemed to be made of some kind of metal.
On his hands and knees, he crawled around, searching for the parameters of his prison. He couldn’t even see his bright yellow socks or white Nikes and wondered whether Obsidian had found out about his research and devised a more hideous punishment.
The ceiling of the seemingly circular space was very much higher than he could reach even with a small jump, and it admitted no chink of light. DJ was just about to try disappearing again thinking he might have made some dimensional error, when light suddenly flooded in from the top; exactly as if someone had removed a lid. Two faces were looking down at him from above: a woman and a surly boy.
‘Robert, what d’you make of this, then?’
A third face, presumably Robert’s, joined them.
DJ saw his only hope in reiterating the greeting, so he did. A couple of strong arms reached down and grabbed him, dragging him out of the cavern amid his strong protests.
‘What is it?’ asked the woman. She was wearing a red-stained white apron and long voluminous dress, not in current fashion. That clearly indicated to DJ that he had materialized some time in the past. He was a little surprised by this, but it was not unknown.
DJ’s eyes had difficulty in adjusting to the light and he still couldn’t identify his surroundings, but he appeared to have come out of a vast copper vat with a thankfully unlit fire under it. DJ had read human-stories about cannibals who cooked their victims in such vats as this. They had always terrified him.
There was no sign of jam anywhere but there were lots of empty jars and crates full of berries. The thought of being put back in that copper was motivation enough to escape, but Robert didn’t show any signs of releasing his grip.
DJ tried to utter his greeting again but only emitted a high pitched squeak. Frantically he pointed to the logo on his black T-shirt and with horror realized there was no logo. He must’ve put on a plain one by mistake.
‘Giv’us that bit of rope, love,’ said Robert ‘while I stop his squeak.’ He stripped the dirty cravat from around his neck, shoved it into DJ’s mouth and tied tightly at the back, then he tied him up. The rope encircled both the genie and the chair they sat him in, pinning his arms and legs so that he couldn’t move.
If only I’d escaped when I’d had the opportunity, he thought. If ever he got out of this, he was resigning!
‘Now,’ said Robert, ‘you light that fire, son and get it flared up with the bellows to a nice even glow. Jeannie, you and me’ll fill up the copper. We’ll deal with him later when our visitor arrives. He’ll know what’s what.’
The three of them busied themselves with various tasks and DJ struggled to get free but he only made the bonds tighter and exhausted himself in the process. In the warm glow of the fire, DJ began to doze.
When DJ woke there were four people in the room. One was wearing a hat even more ridiculous than his own. It was tall and black and had a very shiny badge where the jewel ought to be. They were holding long forks into the fire and toasting bread in the embers.
Of course, thought DJ, I’m dead already and these are demons and they’re going to boil me and then roast me on a spit! He was sweating profusely either from his proximity to the fire or his nightmarish thoughts.
The gent in the hat approached him. ‘Ello, wot ’ave we ’ere then? Wot ’ave you to say for yourself breaking into these good folks’ premises, and wot be you up to?’ Roughly he removed the cravat from DJ’s mouth. ‘Squeak up lad!’ harried the policeman. The others considered it a fine joke.
DJ squeaked again; he couldn’t help himself, and his tormentors laughed the more.
‘Don’t eat me, please,’ pleaded the terrified genie, finding his voice at last, gratified that nobody he knew could witness his terror. ‘I’m a genie. I can grant you a wish...’ This last ditch attempt to ingratiate himself to the group appeared to work. ‘Anything you want.’ He’d square it somehow with the High Council...
‘Okay son, you grant us a wish and we won’t eat you,’ grinned Robert. ‘Ain’t that right, Jeannie?’
His wife laughed and nodded. They all seemed to find his plight mighty amusing but DJ couldn’t see anything funny about it.
‘What d’you think we should wish for then, Joel, boy?’
‘A bit of beef would be nice instead of always toast wi’ jam on it,’ whined Joel ruefully.
‘Well we have to make a livin’, son, so if it’s a toss-up twixt meat and sugar, sugar it is, and that’s that,’ sighed Jeannie. ‘Tell you what, though, I wish I could sell enough of this jam to make us millionaires. Then we could eat meat every day if we wanted.’
As if by magic, the logo appeared on DJ’s shirt, shimmering in silver letters.
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JEANNIE’S JAMS Jams of Genius since 1897 |
And it was as if everything had suddenly changed — DJ felt it — a tiny shudder in the thermal equilibrium of the universe — barely a harmonic but somehow significant — any Djinn would have recognized it as such, and DJ looked about trying to notice the differences, but all seemed outwardly the same, apart from his shirt. Something had taken place and it gave DJ goosebumps. He felt he really must get away.
‘Toast, anybody?’ asked Robert.
‘I’ll ’ave some,’ the constable said, letting go of DJ for just an instant and in that instant, the genie disappeared.
* * *
Geoffrey stood up as DJ emerged from behind the screen. ‘You look a bit shaken, Deej. Is everything okay?’
Everything here looked okay except that the computer screen was flickering. ‘I think I was just in the past, Geoffrey. Only I can’t quite remember what happened. It’s all... gone... fuzzy and strange.’
‘Have you been at the gin again?’
‘No, no. That’s not it.’
‘Well, it was just a nightmare then.’
‘But I’ve been...’
‘Sleeping on the couch again, I know! I came in and there you were, snoring your head off and I thought, let him sleep. No hurry for the apricot job.’
‘Apricot? But it was blackcurrant.’
‘No, apricot. Your costume’s here, all ready for you, although I had the devil’s own job getting the colour, ’cos it’s not really yellow, it’s warmer and not as acidic as lemon but not as soft as peach and... I’ll just turn this computer off. Seems to be on the blink. Crashed just before you woke up. I was working on something and... Do you know I can’t remember what it was? Never mind. I’ll get someone to see to this heap of junk later.
‘You know DJ, I think you should go home and get some rest. You look really peculiar. Better still, how about taking the week off, get away somewhere? There’s nothing spoiling here and you’re owed a holiday.’
‘Yes,’ said DJ. ‘I’ll maybe do that.’ DJ was sure something had happened. Or maybe there was something he had to remember.
Copyright © 2010 by Oonah V. Joslin
