A Calculated Magic

17

They arrived at the Lighthouse five minutes before showtime. A crowd of several hundred people filled the open space before a raised stage. Cassandra, smarting from the knowing smirks she had encountered all evening, forced her way to the front, dragging Jack after her. He knew better than to try arguing with the Amazon. Besides, he wanted to be in a position to watch the Afreet’s performance closely.

Though Jack’s knowledge of physics left much to be desired, he had survived four semesters of the subject as an undergraduate science major. He retained a reasonably strong sense of the laws that governed the physical universe. While not a big fan of hard science fiction, he had read most of Asimov, Niven, and Clarke. Combining his knowledge of science fact and science fiction, he hoped to discover a new method of trapping a genie. It was that or find King Solomon’s ring. And Jack doubted he could find the relic by tomorrow evening.

The show started promptly on the hour. A flash of lights, a blaze of laser lights, and a stage magician dressed in a turban and bright purple burnoose appeared seemingly from nowhere. Working with several extremely scantily clad assistants, the man worked through a dozen standard illusions. He was an adept performer, but he was only the warm-up act for the real star of the show, and both he and the audience knew it. The applause he received was polite but reserved. The crowd impatiently waited for the genie to make its appearance.

Drums rolled, the footlights dimmed, and the magician’s bountifully endowed helpers disappeared into the wings. The wizard stood alone at center stage, his face bowed, his hands hidden in the folds of his voluminous robe.

“Years ago,” the magician intoned in a deep voice that rolled out across the audience, “an old antique dealer sold me this lamp for only a few dollars.”

A narrow spotlight focused on the bronze oil lamp, perhaps a foot long, that the speaker had pulled out from his burnoose. Carefully, the magician placed the prop on the floor in front of him.

“Never did I guess,” he declared, “that this was the very lamp that once belonged to Aladdin. Not until that fateful day”—and the man reached out and brushed his fingers against the bronze— “that I first rubbed my prize.”

The crowd, including Jack and Cassandra, gasped in astonishment. A thick red mist emerged from the lamp’s mouth. It curled like smoke twenty feet over the magician’s head. Slowly, as the background music swelled, it solidified into an imposing figure of a man floating on air.

“Behold,” said the magician, his voice ringing with emotion. “Behold the genie of the lamp!”

With a whoosh, the bright red figure zoomed over the audience, zigzagged across the entire length of the atrium, touched first the head of Jupiter, then the torch of the Colossus, and finished its trip by circling the Lighthouse three times before coming to a landing right next to the waiting magician.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the wizard proclaimed, “brought to you by the magic of The Seven Wonders of the World Resort, LOA Laser Technology, and OMM Computers, I am pleased to present to you, George the Genie.”

The Afreet, dressed in loose-fitting trousers, an open vest, and a fez, otherwise appeared exactly the same as the figure Jack had seen the previous night. Grinning, he waved to the crowd, then bowed. The audience broke out in thunderous applause.

“Notice how he exaggerates his motions slightly,” Cassandra whispered to Jack. “It helps maintain the illusion he’s only a creation of electronic gimmickry.”

The magician clapped his hands three times. Two huge men, dressed in loincloths, emerged from backstage carrying a massive cinder block between them. Setting it down on the stage, they hastily stepped to the side.

With a laugh, the genie floated over to the concrete slab. Laser lights flashed red and green as the Afreet hoisted the block into the air and effortlessly crushed it into powder. A gust of wind, provided by an offstage fan, sent a mist of powder drifting over the crowd. The applause was even louder than before.

Next, the genie bent an iron bar in half. Then it allowed itself to be pierced by a spear, a sword, and finally, a chainsaw. It was all very flashy and, to Jack, quite frightening. Hugo was right. The Afreet was incredibly powerful and without any visible signs of weakness.

“LOA—League of Assassins,” Jack whispered. Onstage, the genie, on orders from the magician, underwent a series of incredible transformations. It changed in rapid succession into a lion, an elephant, a bee, and then finally, into a duplicate of the magician himself. “OMM—Old Man of the Mountain. Not very subtle, are they?”

“Do they need to be?” asked Cassandra. “Ordinary mortals are willing to believe anything involving modern technology, Jack. But try to convince them that magic exists, and they’ll laugh in your face.”

“The world’s a cynical place,” Jack said, then froze. Every muscle in his body tightened into knots. It was as if he had been suddenly struck by lightning. Or by the answer to a question that defied normal reasoning.

“Jack, are you okay?” asked Cassandra, shaking him gently by the shoulder. Onstage, the genie had vanished back into the lamp and the show was coming to a close. Already the crowd was dispersing. Unable to speak, he nodded slowly as the brief moment of epiphany faded away.

“Yeah,” said Hugo, perched invisibly on his shoulder. “What’s the story? For a second, you turned white as a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” said Jack. “In fact, I feel great. I’ll explain later.”

“Watching the genie give you any ideas?” asked Hugo.

“Not particularly,” Jack admitted, as they wandered among the slot machines. “Anything capable of flying that fast and changing his shape that easily won’t be imprisoned by ordinary methods.”

“Then you’ll have to think of an extraordinary method,” said Cassandra complacently. “You always do.”

Jack grimaced. Dealing with a myriad of supernatural entities, both good and evil, made life difficult enough. Raised by his parents to have confidence in his own abilities, he refused to admit defeat no matter what the circumstances. Thus far, through sheer determination and more than a bit of intelligence and luck, he had managed to overcome the forces of darkness. However, the absolute, blind faith in his abilities exhibited by his friends and allies unnerved him.

Jack wished he shared Cassandra’s optimistic belief in his talents. Unlike the heroes in most of the Swords and Sorcery novels in his collection, he couldn’t hack and slash his way through the enemy hordes. Outwitting his foes, not outfighting them, was his only hope. So far, it had proven to be a forlorn hope at best.