Hama of the Lamp (story)



THE PRESENT DAY A University Somewhere in Jordan

A dry breeze blew through the open windows, carrying the smells of the city market into the shared apartment. The scents of food and spices filled the air, and the last rays of the evening sun glinted on every mote of dust that danced between floor and ceiling.

The light shone brightest of all on an oil lamp, one that sat on a carved wooden stand in the centre of the room. Both seemed out of place compared to the rest of the apartment, furnished as it with whatever could be scavenged from market stalls or university thrift stores. The golden rays reflected off the polished surface of the lamp, scattering flecks of light across the walls, which were decorated with posters, lecture notes and project timetables.

The dancing rays seemed to linger briefly on a photograph, pinned in the centre of a corkboard over two desks that flanked the sole window. It showed two young women smiling for the camera, arms round each other’s shoulders. Both were dark-haired Arabians, but were very different. One’s smile was free and open, while the other’s was sheltered, a little scared, and that girl’s eyes were dark with the fear of hurt, not from her friend, but from the world at large.

A sticker someone had applied to the picture read ‘ZAIN AND HAMA, ARCHITECTURAL DRAWING 101,’ to which had been added in pink marker ‘BEST FRIENDS FOREVER!’

“Hama, you left the door unlocked,” a voice called, as Zain, the more carefree of the two friends stepped into the apartment, a backpack over her shoulder and a shopping bag carried in one hand. “You weren’t at class this afternoon; did your fever make a comeback?”

Not waiting for an answer, barely glancing into the living room/study, Zain dumped her backpack by the door and crossed to the kitchenette. “I guessed you might still be feeling ill, so I grabbed two of those falafel wraps you love; I thought it might lift your spirits a bit.”

She turned, wraps in hand, and then paused, finally noticing that she was completely alone.

“Hama?” Zain looked around. “Don’t tell me she went out leaving the door unlocked!”

Then her eyes fell upon the lamp, glinting orange and gold in the sunset.

“Where’d this come from?” she muttered, setting the food down. She crossed to the stand, and cautiously examined the object. “Did Hama blow her stipend on another decoration?”

This was something Zain was used to. Hama was Lebanese by descent but French by birth, a refugee student whose parents, both killed when she was still a baby, had left her a lot of money, money that was greedily hoarded by her uncaring guardians back in Paris. As if to spite them, and knowing that they would never allow her to starve, her being their ticket to continual wealth, Hama often spent her living allowance on curios and oddities picked up from around the city. One of her recent purchases, a once-ornate by now threadbare Persian rug, was laid out beneath the window, between the two computer desks that took up that end of the living room.

Hama’s most recent acquisition was even more esoteric, a bound manuscript full of hand-drawn structural elevations. She’d described it as having been written a century or more ago by a long-forgotten scholar, one who had documented within its pages countless holy sites within East Africa and Western Asia. He’d surveyed mosques, temples and churches from many faiths and recorded them with painstaking detail. Other pages in the book analysed and compared the architecture of those sites, with reference to astrology and astronomy, scripture and science, the scholar being in search of some common sign of the ‘Divine Architect’. Zain had thought it sounded more like the Da Vinci Code than anything else, but when she’d last seen Hama this morning, weak and tired from a recent bout of illness, the other girl had been happily leafing through its pages.

But these new additions to her collection were different somehow. Zain lifted the lamp from the stand in both hands, brow furrowed. The closer she examined it, the more confused she became. Both she and Hama were architectural students, and with that came a certain acquired knowledge of interior design and cultural history. Right now, little voices at the back of her head were screaming that something was not right. The wooden stand was a work of true artistry, one that would have fetched thousands of dinars at any auction house. No way could Hama have afforded it, not without blowing a full year’s worth of her allowance in one go.

The lamp itself was even more inexplicable, because on closer inspection Zain saw it was cast from solid gold, not hammered brass as she had first assumed. It was elegantly shaped, more of a display piece than a functional device, with words delicately inscribed around the lid. The lettering looked like Hebrew, or maybe Syriac, but in no dialect she had ever seen in her studies.

The part of her that loved old myths and legends suggested she rub the surface of the lamp, and that maybe a friendly jinn would emerge, ready and willing to serve her every whim. Idly she wiped it with her sleeve, and was slightly disappointed when nothing happened. A cautious sniff at the spout indicated that the lamp was empty of oil. Instead Zain’s nose detected a sweet, gentle scent, warm with fruits and perfumes. Curious, she unfastened the lid and looked inside, finding no source for the smell in the hollow interior.

“...”

She spun round. Someone had giggled; she’d heard it as surely as if they were standing in the room with her. But she was alone.

“Hama?” she called out, as if expecting her friend to suddenly jump into view. “Is this some kind of trick?”

Leaving the lamp where she had found it, she quickly searched through the apartment, checking the bathroom and closets. It wasn’t like Hama to play tricks of hide-and-seek, but it seemed like she was right now, because every time Zain threw open a door and discovered no-one hiding behind it, she faintly heard another peal of amused laughter, which always seemed to come from right behind her. The giggling voice was definitely that of her friend, though it was rare that she heard Hama laugh like that, so light and airy and carefree.

She worked her way back to the living room, and was peering under the desks to see if Hama was hiding there when she heard a metallic tinkle from over her shoulder, and turned to see the lamp, sitting innocently on its stand. Picking it up again, she was surprised to hear something moving inside of it.

This time, when she lifted the lid, she found that someone, Hama most likely, had placed a rolled-up scrap of paper inside the lamp. Now she was even more confused – how had Hama been able to slip this into the lamp unnoticed, while Zain herself was in the same room?

It was getting dark now, and pausing to turn on the interior lights she unrolled the piece of paper, and realised it was actually papyrus or some kind of parchment, on which a few lines had been written in elaborate calligraphy.

Dear Zain Speak the words and you will find me Have fun, I know I will -Hama

“Speak the words?” Zain repeated to herself. “What words?”

Setting the note aside, she turned her attention back towards examining the lamp. Whatever joke Hama was playing, this must be the key. Again she was struck by its beauty and craftsmanship, tried to guess its value, and with a sick feeling in her gut momentarily wondered if Hama had outright stolen it from some antique shop.

Her eyes drifted back to the inscription around the rim of the lid, and finally noticed another line of text inscribed beneath the strange lettering. This, to her relief, she could read.

Tahduth Hama Hama

Speak the words, the message said. Well, here were the words, now she just needed to make sense of them.

“Tahduth Hama Hama...” she muttered to herself. Speak, Hama Hama. Or was it a kind of wordplay, Hama’s name being an old one that in some languages meant ‘truth’.

“Speak truly, Hama,” she said, and with those words everything changed.

The lamp jumped in her hands. Zain shrieked and dropped it, backing away against the wall. The lamp hit the ground and bounced twice, coming to rest upright beside Hama’s ratty old carpet.

It was making a humming noise, a soft vibration that tickled her inner ear in a way that was almost pleasant, but not quite. Then pink and purple jets of smoke burst from the sprout, spreading throughout the room, flowing like water. A few tendrils tickled Zain’s feet, but the majority twisted up over the lamp, snaking together to form a dense cloud. She stared, unable to flee even if she had wanted to. Deep down, her inner child was cheering at what could only be a display of real, actual magic.

As the smoke continued to mushroom upwards, the humming of the lamp deepened to a reverberating growl, and suddenly formed words, words spoken without a voice, but which reached Zain’s mind as if bypassing her ears.

The lamp has found a Keeper, the Keeper has found the lamp. Find within a spirit untempered, she who is steward to divine powers A servant of magic, a herald yet unclaimed

They slammed into her mind with the weight of ages, ringing out as if spoken by a choir of bells, each syllable branding itself into her memory. Instinctively, Zain clutched at her head, trying to mute out the resonant cadence.

Wish upon the lamp and bind her as your own Your will to shape her will, your whim her solemn command Wish upon the lamp and cease to be its Keeper Wish upon the lamp and embrace the role of Master

As quickly as they came the words faded away into silence, but the memory of them lingered. Then, as Zain lowered her hands from her ears she heard another sound, the same giggling laughter that had stalked her round the apartment. It came from the pillar of smoke, which was coalescing into solid form, one in which a pair of gleaming eyes suddenly appeared...

“SURPRISE!” shouted a familiar voice, the same voice that had been the source of the laughter.

Zain stared in amazement. “Hama!”

When she had last seen Hama, her room-mate had looked, well... much like anyone else. A normal, everyday student. Now though, her best friend appearance’s had been completely transformed.

Instead of her usual baggy sweaters and loose jeans, she was dressed in what could only be described as a harem dancer’s bedlah, a strapless bra. It was made from a shimmering shade of rose silk, and exposed the whole of her midriff. Her shoulders were bare too, which drawing the eye up to her neck, which was accentuated by a choker tailored from the same rosy material. Both were trimmed with tinkling coins. She wore a pair of thick bracelets on her wrists, stud earrings connected by loops of velvet thread, and a metal circlet upon her brow. All of this jewelry, from the braclets to the coins sewn into the bedlah, looked like real gold, radiant and luminous, and a gleaming pink gemstone was set in the centre of the tiara.

But this wasn’t just a party costume, the kind of which Hama would not be seen dead in. Her entire body was bubblegum purple, and she was floating two feet off the ground, bobbing slightly in mid air, her weight supported by a smoky tail. It was the same colour as her skin, and extending down from her waist towards the lamp, flicking and twisting languidly.

Then there were her eyes. Hama’s had always been dark, their colour matching her often moody demeanour, but now they were a brilliant gold, gleaming with an inner fire that made her new jewellery look dull and tarnished by comparison. The same light seemed to shine from out of Hama’s entire being, lending a radiant glow to her plummy body, which was firm with new muscle. Her hair had changed too, grown darker and glossier, with a fullness and volume Zain had never seen outside of fashion magazines. It was tied back in a high ponytail that cascaded down Hama’s back like a dark waterfall.

All of these observations were made in a matter of seconds, much of it slipping past Zain’s thinking mind into the depth of her subconscious. What she mostly felt was a sudden inadequacy in the face of such radiance, like a rough gem compared to one that had been cut and polished to bring out its hidden beauty.

But it was her posture and attitude that made Zain realise just how amazing a transformation had transpired. Her friend typically carried herself in a slouch, trying to pass unnoticed, hiding herself under baggy sweaters and tops. But now Hama was holding her head high, straight-backed and proud, arms folded under her breasts, greeting the world with an easy, casual confidence, totally at home in her own skin.

And she was grinning an ear-to-ear smile, holding in laughter that caused her ponytail to bounce cheerily, filling the air with the merry song of the coins sewn into her clothes.

Everything about her spoke of health and vitality, and Zain suddenly felt like a little girl, as if her shy friend had suddenly grown up, surpassing her along the way.

“The look... the look on your face!” Hama snorted, her stifled giggles forming a musical harmony with the tinkling of her accessories.

“Hama!” Zain finally found her voice. “Is that you!”

“Who else could it be!” her friend replied with a cheeky grin. She drifted towards the ground, and her tail flared, forming into a pair of legs. Smoke wrapped around them, weaving itself into silk and billowing gauze. Now clad in a pair of pink harem pants, soft curl-toed slippers on her feet, Hama made contact with the ground and presented herself with a flourish.

“Hama of the Lamp, at your service.”

“Hama of the Lamp?” Zain repeated, and her eyes fell to the object in question. It lay on the floor, a curl of purple smoke coiling lazily about its spout. Then, staring, she looked back towards Hama, bedecked in her bedlah. The part of her that earlier had suggested Zain rub the lamp and see what happened was silently screaming in glee.

“No...” she said, and Hama’s smile was so infectious that she herself grinned. “It’s not possible...”

“Oh it’s more than possible!” Hama replied, twirling in place. Somewhere, as if from miles away, Zain could faintly hear music playing.

“So you’re a...”

“I am the spirit of this vessel,” Hama smiled. “Servant and creature of magic. A Jinn, a Jinni to be exact. I am Hama, the Genie of the Lamp!”

Shaken, but still grinning with glee, Zain felt suddenly dizzy, and she slumped backwards.

“Woah!” concern flashed across Hama’s face, and she snapped her fingers. “Careful there!”

Zain’s fall broke, a warm, invisible force catching her gently in mid air. Hama beckoned with one hand towards her work chair and it sprung towards them, twisting and transforming as it did into a gilt, high-backed throne, onto which the unseen power gently placed Zain. She felt soft cushions beneath her, and her fingers traced centuries of wear etched into carved armrests that seconds ago had been crude plastic.

“This is real...” she said at last, and Hama nodded eagerly.

All at once, as if nearly fainting had rebooted her system, Zain felt the euphoria flood out of her, and she suddenly felt concern for her friend. Actually, she was downright terrified – forces beyond her understanding had transformed Hama into something inhuman, and between that and her realisation that magic was real, Zain was trembling on the verge of an existential crisis.

So instead she forced herself to focus, to make sense of all this madness.

“How...” she tried to speak, and after several attempts managed to express all of her thoughts in one sentence. “What happened to you Hama!?”

“Oh, I can show you!” the girl... no, the genie said, with far too much enthusiasm for someone who had just shed their corporeal form to become a spirit of smoke and fire. “First time using my powers, this should be fun!”

Hama rose off the floor as if gravity had no claim on her, legs unfurling back into her tail, around which motes of glowing energy danced. She held out her hand, conjuring swirling bubbles of magic into being. Like bubbles of shisha they burst into puffs of smoke that danced playfully around her hand, until with a puff from her lips she blew into them. Like a fire given life they swelled and grew, spiralling out to form a frame, a floating painting tied back to her by a single hazy thread. Within it, Zain saw Hama, the human Hama she remembered, sitting on a plain wooden chair and reading, just as she had been this morning.

“It was the book that did this to me, the scholar’s codex,” Hama said, as her counterpart within the illusion yawned, clearly bored. “I didn’t know what happened until after I was changed, but a minor spirit had come into being within its pages, invoked by the holy architecture described in all those diagrams and illustrations.”

Within the frame, Hama turned a page.

“Over time, that spirit gained a kind of sentience. It didn’t have much power of its own, but it had enough to do one thing, to open a small door in the fabric of the universe, and to bind a living soul to the torrent of magic that would pour through that door. When I opened the book to read it, it was actually reading me. And that book was the best buy I’ve ever made, because earlier this afternoon this happened.”

Pink smoke erupted from the book, and a surprised Hama barely had a moment to react before it enveloped her. She lurched back in surprise, and her hair whipped up behind her, darkening and gaining vibrant gloss as it twisted itself into a ponytail.

The smoke was changing her, transforming her.

“But why you Hama?” Zain asked. “Why not anyone else who’s owned that book in the past.”

Hama shrugged cheerfully.

“It looked into me and saw my heart’s desire, a yearning so deep I couldn’t put a name to it, only feel the pain of it being unfulfilled. It examined me down to the foundations of my soul, and decided I was worthy of its gift.”

Hama and the book both disappeared into the smoke which, like a lightning bolt grounding itself, arced down to the floor and gathered into itself, forming something solid, something whole.

It was the lamp, shining and golden.

Hama’s chair, knocked over and broken in her brief struggle to escape the smoke, twitched, and then began to move, the pieces drawing together and lifting the lamp up as its magic sculpted them into a new shape, reshaping them into the stand on which Zain had discovered it.

Back in the present, Hama waved her hand, and the image collapsed, its smoke and energy rushing back to collect in her palm. Eyes closed, a blissful smile on her face, she closed her fingers and sighed, the power flowing back into her.

“For a second I was afraid, and then I was gone, deaf and sightless, without touch, smell or taste. I was an idea, a mote of flickering thought in the storm of the universe. But then I suddenly wasn’t scared anymore, because I could feel something else there with me, something good and great and powerful. It held me in its warmth, shielded me from the storm, and then it spoke to me, and I listened, and understood. It told me that I was a good person, because although the world had hurt me I held no malice against it. Instead all I wanted was to make small changes where I could, helping to shape that world into a better place, so others wouldn’t have to feel the pain I had.”

Smiling, her tail unfurling into her legs, Hama floated down and knelt on the floor, picking up her lamp from where Zain had dropped it, holding it with reverent care.

“And so I was given a chance to be that change, to do amazing things for the good and health of people everywhere. And to fill that role I would be changed myself, into a form better suited to the task, a bearer of light, shining bright against the shadows of evil and darkness, wielding cosmic power that would let me bend and transform reality like a painter does a blank canvas.

Hama beamed, her eyes wide and radiant.

“I accepted, felt that Great Something smile upon me, and then the power poured into me, settling deeper than flesh and bone, into the very core of my being, burning everything else away until there was no difference between me and it – that power was my all, and I was one with it.

And then, as I waited to be summoned, something amazing happened. I was confined in the lamp, but I could still perceive the world outside of it, see our room, and the city, and everything beyond. My universe opened up. One moment I was blind, but then I saw everything, heard the song of the stars and the hum of the tiniest atom, felt the taste of gravity on my lips and the caress of solar fire on my skin. I reached out to cup a galaxy in my hand, and understood it down to the smallest erk of energy...”

Hama trailed off, her gaze distant. There was a strange, ethereal quality about her. Zain was reminded of the deeply religious, those who felt themselves to have been touched by Grace, by the Will of that which was almighty. Then Hama looked at her and smiled.

“That’s right, you get it...” she grinned, and winked. “I can’t read your thoughts Zain, but I can see the rough shape of them. It’s like I’ve been standing on a beach all my life, unable to do anything but let the waves wash over my toes. Now I’ve gone far beyond the beach, and am swimming in the ocean, seeing its flows and currents. I wanted to be an architect, but now I can see the cosmic design of The Architect, and have been given permission to play within that sandbox. I wanted to help build a better world, and now that you’ve summoned me I literally can!”

Still smiling, she fell silent, her shining eyes locked upon Zain, who at last found her voice. All this talk of ‘summoning’, and the memory of the words she had heard when Hama was released, was beginning to make her feel nervous. This was all too good to be true.

“What do you see right now Hama?” she asked. “When you look at me, I mean.”

Hama’s golden eyes turned towards her, and her friend’s smile softened, grew wide and warm.

“I see the whole of you. Everything that you are and everything you might be. Your hopes, your dreams, and your wide imagination. I see your kind heart, and that makes me happy, because I wanted it to be you who found my lamp. I wanted it to be you, kind and sweet and open, whose Light I would guide with my own Light.”

Still kneeling, in what must have been intended as a position of supplication, she lifted up the lamp in offering, and all of Zain’s fears came true. If the stories of genies were anything to go on, the lamp now represented everything that was Hama, and she was offering it to her as if her entire existence was something to be given away.

“All you have to do is make a wish upon the lamp, Zain. Then I’ll be yours, and you’ll be my Master.”

“Why...” Zain struggled to understand. “Why do you want a master, when you’ve already got amazing powers?”

Hama laughed softly. “Zain, all that I’ve done so far, all that magic? Well, it’s just a party trick compared to what I could do, but those higher levels of power are sealed away. It’s a kind of safeguard system – to prevent me from abusing my own abilities. I’m a wish-granter, so to reach my full potential I need someone’s wishes to grant. To grow and mature as a genie, I have to find a master, and I want that master to be you.”

“And, what...” Zain’s throat fell suddenly dry. “What would that mean, if I was your master?”

“Exactly what you’d think it does,” Hama smiled; seemingly unaware of the turmoil she was inspiring inside of her would-be master. “I’d be bound to you, and anything you ask of me I’ll do. Anything. Not because I’m forced to, but because as your genie I’ll want to.”

Serfdom, that was what she was describing. No, this was worse; this was actual slavery, with chains that went into her very mind and soul. Zain looked into those eager eyes, the eyes of her friend, no matter how much she’d been transformed. She eased forward off of the throne Hama had set her upon and knelt, bringing herself down to the same level as Hama, so that they looked at each other eye-to-eye, as equals. She looked so happy, so ready and willing to make this jump into slavery.

And then, very deliberately, Zain shook her head.

“No Hama, I won’t be your master.”

“Wh-what!” Hama recoiled as if struck, dropping her lamp as she did. “But I can give you anything your heart desires! There’s no three-wishes limit here Zain, I’d be your genie until you say otherwise, and with enough time and practice could do anything you wish. Anything, Zain.”

Drawing Zain to her feet she cast her magic out, and around them arose the glistening image of a vast construct, visualised in three dimensions and scaled so that the two of them stood within its walls like giants. Multiple skyscrapers were linked together by suspended gardens and walkways, towering and grand, crowned with countless domes and spires. It formed an entire city in the air, occupying a footprint little bigger than that of a small park, while still creating new green spaces for pleasure and play, and space to grow food on its many terraces and balconies. Zain recognised it straight away – it was an idea she’d doodled on the back of one of her textbooks, her idea of a way to accommodate and feed the planet’s ever-swelling population.

It was an arcology, her arcology.

“Wish for it on the lamp and I can build this for you. Not from whole cloth, it’ll be years before I’ve got that kind of experience, but I could weave your designs and concepts into the minds of the government and legislature. They’d build your arcology and think it their own idea. And it’ll be the same for all of our dreams Zain, all the ideas we shared about building a better world for everyone, the orphans, the starving and sick, and all the lonely people out there. I’ve got my chance to make those dreams come true, and I’m willing to pay the price.”

“Price?” Zain asked. With massive effort she tore her eyes away from the shimmering mirage of her imagination come true, letting it fade away into darkness. “What price Hama, what do you mean?”

Hama fidgeted, suddenly nervous. Zain took a breath. If her friend wanted a master, she’d act the part.

“Hama,” she replied, trying to force demand into her words. “Tell me of the price. That’s an order, young genie.”

Zain saw a flicker of a smile, and then Hama relented.

“Right now there are effectively two versions of me in existence,” she said, holding up her hands and cupping a mote of light in each. One was purple, the other pink. “Hama the girl, and Hama the genie. Two persons in one, two paths down which my life could travel.”

She drew her hands together, never letting the two flames quite touch. “Right now I’m somewhere in the middle, not fully human or jinn, but once I have a master, the human path will be closed to me, completely and totally.”

She closed one palm, snuffing out the light, and then extinguished the other.

“Girl or genie, genie or girl; the universe will only allow one to exist. Once you or anyone else makes a wish on my lamp and binds me to them as my Master, I am a genie, one hundred percent. No going back, no wishing of freedom, just me and my lamp. And to ensure I am committed to that path, without regrets to give me doubt, everything about the girl I was, every sign I ever existed, birth records, pictures, accomplishments, will be erased from the world. Even the memories of people who knew me will blur and fade. I will have never existed as a human being, even in my own mind.”

She folded her arms, and looked at the ground, unable to make eye contact.

“You’d forget?” Zain asked, suddenly feeling cold. “You’d not remember anything before today.”

“I would be a genie,” Hama replied, still not looking her in the eye. “My life would have begun today. My entire identity would be Hama of the Lamp, and everything else would be gone and forgotten. Hama the girl would never have been.”

Then she lifted her head, determination in her eyes. “And I would be okay with that.”

Zain realised that she meant it, and to be fair, Hama’s life to date was a story of loneliness and casual abuse. Who wouldn’t want to give that up if the trade-off for forgetting was immortal life, and a purpose, and amazing power.

‘And she wants to share that power with me, to give me control over how she uses it.’

But there was one thing that Zain knew both she and Hama treasured, and that was their friendship. Was she willing to sacrifice that too, chasing this new dream?

“What about me, would I forget as well?” Zain pressed, chilly fingers running up and down her spine. “Would I only remember you as the genie whose lamp I happened to find, not as the friend I knew?”

“That’s right,” Hama nodded, before smiling. “But that’s not so bad. I had nothing to live for, no real friends beside you, and my guardians only saw me as an easy means to accessing my family’s money. And although we’d be starting over from scratch I can see from your Light that you’d treat me the same way you did when we first met, as a person and a potential friend, not some broken thing assigned to you as a roommate. I know we’d become friends again, I can see it as surely as I can see you in front of me.”

She reached out, and took Zain’s hands in her own, eyes shining with excitement. “Zain, I’d be your genie, the loyal companion who yearns to make your every wish come true. I know you’ll use me wisely, to bring joy, peace, and laughter to the hurting people of the world, and I trust you to pass me on to a worthy successor when your time is at an end. Once bound to a master, my lamp can’t be destroyed or stolen, so we’ll be free to take on the world together, for as long as you live.”

Zain smiled weakly, and Hama grinned back.

“And trust me, with a genie’s magic backing you up, your life can be a very long one indeed; once I’ve grown into my powers, you’ll never want for anything again.”

She stepped away from Zain and recovered her lamp, eyes full of promise.

“Disney got one thing right about this genie, ‘you ain’t never had a friend like me!’ All you have to do is make a wish, any wish.”

It sounded amazing, like life had suddenly become a fantasy, full of magic and adventure. And yet…

“I don’t want a friend like you Hama,” Zain repeated, her brief smile fading. “I want my best friend. I want you.”

She focused on the memory of Hama’s hands. Her fingers had felt soft and warm, and yet strangely different. There was firmness to them, but not of flesh and bone, and Zain had gotten a sense of immense energies shifting beneath their surface. It was as if Hama’s whole body was an electric cable sheathed in velvet. You could touch it in complete safety, and yet still be conscious of the current thrumming within, all the power and the danger.

“How do I know,” she said, trying to find the right words. “That this is really you, and that you’ve not been tricked or enchanted into saying you want this. How do I know that the real Hama isn’t screaming inside of you to be free.”

Looking up she peered into Hama’s golden eyes, as if expecting to see her friend crying for help in their depths. Instead she saw the cosmos looking back, a glinting galaxy beyond the windows to Hama’s soul.

‘She’s seen something greater than herself, become a part of it,’ she realised. ‘This is still the Hama I know, just... different. Transformed. Something bigger, something better.’

But bigger or better didn’t mean right. She tightened her jaw.

“I don’t want a slave Hama, I want you, the wonderful, smart, sensitive girl who’d been hurt so much, and yet still managed to smile.”

“I smiled for you, Zain,” Hama replied. “I smiled because it made you happy, and because it made me happy to see you so. That’s how I kept going when running away to university didn’t take me away from the pain, just brought it with me. Because I met you, who gave me a release through our friendship. You’re the definition of a true friend, someone who stuck with me and helped me when nobody else would.”

She shifted the lamp in her arms. “You might see this thing as a prison, but it’s not. It’s my being; everything that makes me who I am, my mind, my soul, everything that is me, is held safe in here. This body talking to you now is a puppet, a construct that allows me to see and touch the world. But this lamp is the core of me.”

She held it towards Zain, imploringly. “And I want you to have it.”

Zain reached for the lamp and then stopped, pulling her hands away.

“Can I believe you?” she said. “Can I trust that this is really you, and not some kind of brainwashing, a trick that will leave you bound to a lonely destiny? You might end up just like Disney’s genie, trapped for centuries between Masters.”

Hama’s face grew sympathetic. “I might have been afraid of that myself if I didn’t know better, but everything’s become clear... I’m not afraid anymore, not afraid of anything.”

She lifted the lamp slightly and closed her eyes. “Inside here, everything I was has become crystal and gold, become solid. A palace of self, with halls of memories, gardens of thought, galleries of possibilities.”

As she spoke, describing her inner space, she seemed to trance out, loosing hold of her legs and instead floating, smiling at a beautiful world only she could see.

“I can remember back to the moment my soul first emerged into consciousness, with perfect clarity. I can feel the love of parents I’ve never known, my first thoughts and words, can relive my happiest moments as if experiencing them for the first time, whenever I want. And that clarity has stripped away all the lies and illusions we all spin for ourselves. I know now that I’m a good person, with some foibles yes, but fundamentally good, so I don’t need to despise myself any more, don’t need to believe that I deserve all the bad that’s happened to me. I can be at peace with myself, and would have so much of me to explore within the lamp that I could never be bored, even if I have to wait ten thousand years for a master.”

Zain felt another shiver pass down her back. Hama had spent months at a time tackling with depression, but now she looked so serene. At ease with herself and the universe. For a moment Zain envied her, before she remembered the price Hama would pay if bound to the lamp.

“But you’d lose all those memories Hama, you’d be starting fresh.”

“Yes, but with a clean slate, without the burden I used to carry. And I’ll have years at your side to fill my palace with wonderful new experiences.”

Hama sighed again, her costume jingling.

“And I’ll be free to love myself and this world. I don’t need to eat or drink or breathe anymore, don’t need sleep, though I can do all those things if I want. I can’t be hurt, my lamp can’t be destroyed by any means of man, so all my old phobias have just evaporated. And I now understand that although evil exists, it is just the shadow cast by the light of good. Once I truly become the genie of my lamp, I’ll be able to shine bright on that shadow, stealing it of its power piece-by-piece the more brilliant I burn. Until time beats its last, or the Highest calls me home for a final accounting, I’ll be free of fear, of want, of doubt. I’ll understand who I am, and know the purpose I was born to fulfil.”

She held the lamp out, and placed it in Zain’s hands. “I’m Hama of the Lamp, and I’m a good person.”

Gently, she closed Zain’s fingers so that they gripped the lamp by its base. “But I know that you’re an even better person Zain, knew that from the second you welcomed me into your life. If anyone should guide my powers and will, it should be you.”

The earnestness in her eyes hurt Zain to look at. But she couldn’t be the one to condemn her friend to a live of eternal servitude.

‘But if I wished her to be human again...’ she thought, and that thought must have burned bright in her mind, because Hama suddenly reached over and grabbed hold of her shoulders, raw terror in her eyes.

“Please don’t! My soul is knocking at Heaven’s gate Zain, you can’t deny it to me at the last second. I’m like a computer connected to the internet for the first time, don’t pull my link to the cosmic network I’m now a part of!”

“But I don’t want to lose you!” Zain replied, realising that tears were running down her face.

“If you wish me human again you will!” Hama cried out. “If you do this to me, I know you’d do it out of good intentions, pure-hearted and true, but it would be too cruel for me to bear. And that would be the real end of our friendship.”

The two girls, human and jinn, stared into one another’s eyes, trembling on the edge of forever. Their lips quivered, and then first Zain, then Hama, looked to the photo pinned on the wall.

Best Friends Forever.

Shaking, Zain pulled away from Hama, who sank to her knees.

“Please don’t do this Zain,” she whispered. Ignoring her, and hating herself for doing so, Zain crossed to the photo and pulled it free. She stared into it, trying to remember when that photo had been taken, what it represented.

Then she reached deep inside of herself and realised what she had to do. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

Lamp in one hand, clutching the photo to her chest, she turned to look at the kneeling Hama.

“I’m ready to make my wish, Hama. It’s the right thing to do.”

Seeing the look on her face, the genie’s hopeful expression collapsed, and her eyes fell to the floor. She slumped slightly, and for a moment Zain saw the old Hama in front of her, sad and alone and a little scared.

“As you wish, Master,” she said, managing a brave smile. “Well, at least I get to grant one wish.”

Zain took a breath, closed her eyes, and gripped hold of the lamp.

“I wish... I wish to be a master worthy of my friend, Hama of the Lamp,” she said, and heard Hama give a gasp of surprise, even as her own heart broke. She’d committed the both of them, and neither of them would even remember.

The words said, she let go of the lamp, and it dropped to the floor. Then, fresh tears pricking at her eyes, she opened them and looked towards Hama, who was smiling with relief and joy.

“Thank you Zain,” she said, before her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a gasp. “Oh...”

On the floor, the lamp began to glow. Holding tightly onto the photo, Zain felt a breeze stir at her hair. The papers around the room fluttered, books flapping open as the unseen wind grew in strength.

“You did it,” Hama said, before making a low, happy cry. “You granted my deepest wish...”

She was rising into the air again, eyes drifting closed, hugging herself as magic cradled her in its embrace.

“It’s happening,” she said, her legs dispersing back into shimmering smoke. “I can feel it...”

Then her eyes snapped open, glowing a brilliant white. Her lips parted, and when she spoke, it was in the same ringing, penetrating cadence as the phantom words spoken when Zain first summoned her.

The Keeper of the lamp has accepted the duty of Master. This spirit is now bound with her, tempered by the fires of loyal servitude. To serve the life and happiness of the Master is now her charge, as is she the Master’s charge and responsibility.

Henceforth her life, her will, her very soul exist to obey the master’s command.

Servant, Subject and Soldier, Companion, Confidante and Counsellor.

To fulfil these roles are her greatest desire, to grant a wish her highest honour.

To wield her wisely is the Master’s call, to the health and wealth of all, the protection of the innocent, and the chastisement of the guilty.

The lamp is her all, and the hand of neither Thief nor Time may touch it unless the Master allows. May its Light become one with her Light, to lead the Master free from the dangers of darkness and ignorance.

Her mortal life is passed, and she has passed beyond the hand of death, reborn to serve with love and fealty, to grow with each wish granted. May she serve until the death of the final star, when all shall be called to account.

Blessings upon Zain, Master of the Lamp. Blessings upon Hama, Genie of the Lamp.

And Zain felt those words inside her as surely as Hama herself must have, felt their weight and responsibility. And yet she felt free, light as a bird, somehow knowing that she had wished in good faith, and that everything would turn out alright, even if the path hurt along the way.

She felt the photo vanish from her grasp, her hand clenching on open air. Around her she could see the room shifting, all traces of Hama’s life washing away.

‘Goodbye Hama,’ she thought, holding onto this last moment while she could. ‘I look forward to being friends with the new you.’

The wind died, and Hama drifted, her eyes glowing bright, her expression one of blissful calm. Then she saw Zain, and immediately bowed her head, palms pressed submissively together.

“Greetings Master, I am Hama of the Lamp, and you...”

The words died on her lips, and she looked surprised. One hand came to her mouth and then drifted to her brow. Her eyes fluttered, the light fading to reveal her golden pupils.

“You are Zain, my friend...” she spoke in a hushed voice. “But that, that shouldn’t be possible...”

Zain took what felt like her first breath in hours, and shook her own head. She shouldn’t remember anything of Hama, and yet she remembered everything, clearer than she ever had before.

Then she realised she was holding onto something. Looking down, she opened her clenched palm.

The photograph was gone, but in its place was a shining blue gemstone. She recognised it as a turquoise. It felt warm in her hand, and yet soothingly cool all at once, as if she’d just slipped into a freshly-drawn bath, arms still resting on the chill porcelain of the tub.

“You did it...” she heard Hama whisper. “You made the perfect wish. I remember...”

She looked up to see Hama had shut her eyes, as if peering deep within herself. Then with a whoop the newborn genie twirled in the air, streamers of magic flowing from her hands.

"You did it!"

Clutching onto the gem, Zain crossed the room to Hama and looked up at her friend.

“What Hama, what did I do?”

Hama dropped down and hugged her close, eyes shining with happiness.

“You managed to turn the rules back on themselves, look!”

She gestured around them, and Zain looked, and saw that the room had shifted. Almost everything that had been Hama’s had either vanished or changed. Her bed had been replaced with a couch, her desk a terrarium in which a magnificent snake was curled up. From the books on the shelves to the notes pinned on the wall, there was no sign that anyone other than Zain herself had ever lived here.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Everything’s changed, but I still remember us, our meeting, and the past two years. And the photo became this...”

She held up the gem in her open palm, and Hama’s eyes lit up.

“That’s your wish made solid,” she laughed, and grabbing Zain with her magic she spun the two of them through the air, floating on pure glee.

“Hama!” Zain protested, but she couldn’t hold back a laugh. The whole world had changed, and suddenly everything seemed... brighter. “What did I do?”

With a chuckle, Hama set them back on the floor.

“You wished to be a worthy master for me, but in making the wish you defined me as your friend,” she beamed. “Our friendship has become an integral part of our bond as Master and Genie. Look.”

She cupped Zain’s hands to lift the gem up to the light. It glinted with facets, drawing the eye in deep towards the heart of the stone, a depth that seemed to stretch to forever.

“This gem is our friendship, every feeling and memory crystallised into a whole,” Hama explained. “It does for you a little bit of what my lamp does for me! Everything we’ve done as friends, everything we will do going forward, it’s all recorded here, with perfect clarity.”

She touched one purple finger to the stone, which lit up with magic. When the light faded, Zain could see that the stone was now framed by a golden setting, and set on a chain so that she could wear it around her neck. The words ‘Best Friends Forever’ were traced onto the stone in gilt letters.

“And like the lamp, it can’t be lost or stolen,” Hama smiled. “We’ll never forget the friendship we had.”

“No, the friendship we have!” Zain corrected, before pulling the newly-minted genie in for another hug. “This is amazing!”

And then they held each other and cried with joy until there were no more tears to shed.

The rest of the room held further surprises. Exploration revealed a freshly-delivered bank statement on the table, and from the figures cited on it, it appeared that Zain was suddenly far-better off financially than she had been before. Logging into her online bank account, she backtracked through the archives and found that she was now a beneficiary of a scholarship fund that two French philanthropists had established some years ago. The trust was named and founded in honour of their infant daughter, who had died by a miscarriage just a short year before they themselves had been killed.

They were Hama’s parents. The world had woven a new fate around her life, and it seemed Zain was the only one who remembered the whole of it. Hama it seemed had no memories earlier than their first meeting two years ago, the ‘time before’ being only a grey void in her mind. When Zain had tried to explain Hama’s connection to the people who now paid her tuition fees, the genie girl had gone blank-faced, the information passing straight through her mind to vanish into that void. The universe had bent the rules only so far: Hama could remember their friendship, the love and trust and joy it brought with it, but nothing else of her life before the lamp.

In one day she had regained her memories of her lost parents, only for them to slip away it. It was tragic, yet Zain hoped that, wherever Hama’s mother and father were now, that they were proud of their daughter, who had climbed above her pain and devoted her now-immortal life to performing miracles.

Wiping away fresh tears, ones born from both sadness and gratitude, Zain fastened her new necklace in place and tucked it under her top. She felt the cool, calming warmth of the stone come to rest against her breastbone, and wondered if she was feeling the light of their shared friendship.

She glanced towards Hama, who was standing in front of the terrarium, belly-dancing for the snake within. It was a magnificent cobra, magically stripped of its venom glands, and seemingly captivated by her dance. Zain had to admit it was a stunning show, and shutting down her computer she turned and watched, content to just enjoy the moment.

Hama was guiding her body through the motions with fluid ease, putting her newly-toned stomach to good use, accentuating its contortions with graceful sways of her hips. Apparently genies were skilled in every form of dance, to better entertain their masters, but belly-dancing came most naturally, at least so far as Hama was concerned.

She was accompanied by music that played without instruments or musicians, the notes instead just appearing out of the air. The musical range shifted from moment to moment, the power of a full orchestra yielding to a sole sitar and drum, before transforming into Arabian synths, which themselves gave way to the natural music of Hama’s laughter, aided by the tinkling chimes of a pair of finger cymbals she’d summoned out of thin air. She danced on, the coins in her costume ringing like a thousand tiny bells, and wherever she led the music happily followed, every swell and crescendo a reflection of her joy.

Then Hama did something impossible. Without any warning she twirled in opposite directions at the same time, so that now two Hamas danced together, their fingertips touching. They were shimmering mirror images, twin visions of exotic beauty and grace, moving together in synchrony.

Zain stared, not just at the amazing dance, but the realisation that she had just seen Hama casually clone herself, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Then Hama pulled another surprise, her doubles calling more magical smoke into life as they danced together. Sweet as perfume the balls and whorls of light coiled around the performers, the girls themselves seeming to leave trailing sparkles in the air with every flick of their arms and ponytails. It was mesmerizing, seeing a simple dance evolve into this display of wonders, as if Hama were a goddess weaving the cosmos together.

The cobra seemed even more fascinated. Hood flaring it swayed from side to side, seemingly entranced by the rhythmic grace of the paired genies, the spiralling lights that scattered rainbow reflections off of their decorated costumes. The magical music slowed, becoming soft and sensual, and the eyes of the twin dancers, half-lidded, seemed to glow with hidden delights, the desire to make one’s every fantasy come true. Caught in their gaze the snake’s movements became slow, sluggish, and in the instant it stopped moving Hama spun back in on herself, becoming a single being, and motioned a finger in command towards the animal. Obediently it began to dance with her, matching her movements, keyed to her every whim and whirl.

Like the snake, Zain watched in dumbstruck silence, barely blinking or even breathing. The more she saw, the more she relaxed, happy shivers rippling up and down her back, soothing her deeper than any massage. Feeling as soft and fuzzy as a warm blanket she sank back into her chair, letting Hama’s performance gently carry her away from the confines of their apartment, into a place of smoke and magic, one that swelled and shrank to meet the needs of Hama’s dance.

Her thoughts and concerns seemed to fade away, until all that occupied Zain’s world was Hama’s dancing, everything else scattered like sands in a desert breeze. The genie girl spun and pirouetted, divided and fused with herself at whim, so that at any moment as many as three copies of herself might be performing, every flick of their fingers or roll of their bellies joyously spontaneous, yet perfectly coordinated. Swords, chimes and streamers of silk passed through their hands, each bringing a new flavour to the routine. And throughout the show Hama’s magic danced beside her, a shining harmony of smoke, fire and light.

Smiling dimly, her eyes growing heavy, Zain felt her head nod, and she almost fell forward off of her chair. The sudden jolt snapped her back to reality, and with a start she glanced at her watch and realised she’d been watching Hama perform for an entire hour, losing all track of time in the music and mystery of her dance.

Hama whirled on, her exertions seeming to not have sapped her energies at all. From the distant euphoria Zain could see in her eyes, she too had given herself over to that dreaming place, a willing thrall to her own performance.

Staring, Zain was stunned to then see the shimmying genie magically summon the snake from out of its case, duplicating it at the same time. Yet even when released the two cobras remained as tame as kittens, dancing on at Hama’s whim, be it upon the floor or draped across her shoulders. The majestic predators were completely in her power. A basket, flute and pillow that lay beside the terrarium suggested that dance was not the only way in which Hama could influence these animals’ minds, and perhaps those of other creatures as well.

‘Maybe even the minds of people.’

Almost certainly so, given that Hama seemed to have put Zain herself into what could only have been a hypnotic trance. The suggestion of mind-control was chilling, especially given that Hama was still just a newborn genie, tapping into her powers for the first time. If these amazing feats were her baby-steps, then when she came into her maturity, be it in years or centuries, she would be a truly formidable force.

Zain turned her attention to the lamp, resting beside her computer, and as Hama continued to perform her newly-anointed master picked it up and set it in her lap.

The strange inscription around the lid now made perfect sense to her, being a transcription of the words Hama had spoken when she had become bound to Zain’s mastery. It was the bond between Master and Genie, written in a long-dead dialect, yet understandable thanks to the magic that now entwined their lives together.

Power, Zain realised. To be the master of a genie was to be the wielder of immense power, and with that came the responsibility to use it well. There were no restrictions on what she could make Hama do beyond the limitations of her developing powers. If she wished it, the two of them could right-now embark on a bloody cleansing of the world’s tyrants and terrorists, culling them with the ease of a farmer threshing wheat.

But she wouldn’t. In wishing to be a worthy master she had made a magical promise to Hama, and from experiment she now knew that any thought of using her wishes contrary to that vow caused the stone now around her neck to grow cold and heavy. It was fitting that the embodiment of their friendship should also be a reminder of the promise that bound them together.

Yet she suspected the gem would not actually stop her from casting those dark wishes, just warn her against them. Perhaps that leeway was allowed in case of desperate circumstances, or as a test of Zain’s own ability to keep her promise. Maybe breaking it would free Hama to seek out a more worthy master, but Zain never intended to put that theory to the test.

She wondered if the masters of other genies, and there must surely be others out there in the world, were sworn by similar oaths. But if people had been using supernatural means to win fame or glory for themselves throughout history, wouldn’t they have drawn attention to themselves?

‘What if all of mythology was once actually history, events in which genies had played a part? And if modern masters were clever with their wishes, no-one would even suspect magic’s hand in world affairs, let alone recognise it.’

How many leaders, be they good or evil, kings or dictators, might have been swept into office with a little cosmic help? Even a newly-minted genie like Hama had the power to subtly topple governments. All that was needed was to slip one or two new thoughts into certain people’s minds, fanning the flames of discontent here and there. Let simmer for a few months and then, with a magically-rigged election or a military coup, perhaps even a civil war, that genie’s master would be enthroned as an undisputed monarch or president-for-life.

'Would we end up fighting those kind of people? Is there already some kind of secret magical war, into which we’ve just been drafted? Could we ourselves end up as villains in this story?’

Burdened down with these notions Zain looked over at Hama, innocently laughing as she played with the snake, revelling in her newly discovered destiny, and felt the weight of those thoughts slip away, leaving her head feeling lighter on her shoulders. The stone warmed beneath her shirt, and she smiled.

Hama hadn’t deliberately entranced her; she felt in her gut that it had been an accidental side-effect of the genie pouring all her efforts into her dancing. If she had known what she was unwittingly doing, Zain was certain Hama would have been horror-struck and ashamed.

And that was why Zain was her master, to help Hama herself to become the master of her phenomenal abilities, and to direct her wisely in their use. Neither of them were monsters, neither wanted power over other people, and they had promised to work together to do great and good things.

‘We’ll take it one step at a time, one day after another, and be there for each other. Hama granted my wish on that promise and I did the same for her. If trouble comes looking for us, we’ll fight it. If we make friends along the way, we’ll embrace them. Wish in good faith, and strive for the best outcome.’

And wherever possible they’d try to have fun, making each and every day an adventure.

‘Right now my best friend is hypnotising a snake solely through the power of dance; if that isn’t reason to rejoice at the possibilities ahead of us, then what is?’

Start the way they meant to carry on? Well why not.

“Let’s go have some fun!”

With newly-discovered energy Zain stood up. Without having to be asked, Hama broke instantly out of her dance and swung around to face her. The music faded away, the magical effects and duplicates vanishing in sparkles of smoke and light, and the snake dizzily shook its head, returned to its case and waking from whatever mystic hold had been placed on it.

“Yes, Master?” Hama beamed.

She seemed bright and alert and eager to serve, completely unfazed at having her performance of the last hour interrupted. Perhaps that was part of her nature as a genie, the mental agility to drop everything in an instant to meet the needs of her master. It should have been concerning, but Hama was grinning as only someone truly happy can, and Zain returned it, feeling a shared lightness, the breath of freedom. The details of Hama’s transformation and the scope of her powers were still mysteries, but they’d uncover them together.

“We should celebrate!” Zain said. “Let’s do something, our first girls’ night out as Master and Genie!”

“Do you mean like a shopping spree or a trip to the movies?” Hama grinned, one eyebrow teasingly arched. “Or did you have something bigger in mind?”

“There’s nothing good showing tonight at the cinema, otherwise I’d take you up on that,” Zain replied, laughing. “No, I’d like to go somewhere new, to see something amazing and inspiring, and I bet you’d love to try out your powers by taking me there, Hama of the Lamp.”

“That’s really vague. Zain,” Hama snorted, rolling her eyes. “If you have something fantastic in mind, then you’ve got to phrase it as a wish, Oh Master of Mine.”

“Alright,” Zain laughed, and grabbed her warmest jacket. Despite having left Hama’s lamp standing on the desk, she immediately felt its weight inside one of the jacket’s pockets, and slipping a hand into that pocket brushed her fingertips against the lamp’s smooth metal. She was its Keeper and Hama’s Master, and so it would always be to hand.

“Hama, I wish to see the world!” she declared, holding tightly onto the lamp’s handle. Hama said she’d been too vague, so it would be interesting to see how she interpreted as broad a wish as this.

Both the stone around her neck and the lamp in her pocket hummed, and a shift came over Hama’s expression, the joking smile giving way to an expression of focused intent. It seemed she had been right, once a wish had been made of a genie, fulfilling it became their only desire.

“Your wish, is my command,” Hama bowed, a ringing harmonic resonating in her voice, before she magically transported herself over to the old carpet. It was her only possession to remain after history had shifted, and Zain had a good hunch as to why. After all, what was any self-respecting genie without her magic carpet?

Her motions graceful and deliberate, Hama closed her eyes and clasped her hands, smiling serenely as she dropped to her knees. As she sank the carpet rose, undulating gently as it carried her up off of the floor, its threads and tassels suddenly brightening with renewed colour and gloss. Still kneeling, Hama of the Lamp folded her arms, becoming the very image of a classical genie. As her eyes opened they flashed for briefly with magical power, then shifted back to normal and she offered Zain a cocky grin.

“Climb aboard Master, if you’re feeling brave enough to discover how I interpreted that wish. Next stop, the world.”

“Oh I’m more than brave enough,” Zain accepted, and then they were flying, out the window and over the moonlit city, climbing higher and faster, two friends streaking skyward on a flying carpet, carried by genie magic and their cries of joy, until the clouds receded beneath them and the horizon bent into a curve.

Faster and higher still they flew, breaching escape velocity and the upper atmosphere, breathing safely despite the lack of air. They raced the setting sun as it descended towards the curving arc of the Atlantic, and as they sped onwards the whole world flashed beneath them, the continents, nations, and trillions of lives that they had promised to help.

Perched on the carpet, Zain smiled and took hold of her friend’s shoulder.

“Keep going,” she whispered. “Please.”

“That was always the plan, my Master,” Hama grinned. “As high and as far as we can go.”

The carpet accelerated, and without regard for gravity shot higher, streaking unnoticed past the International Space Station, climbing to heights that no-one had reached since the glory days of the Apollo Landings.

And in less than an hour, as had been wished of her, Hama of the Lamp showed her friend and Master the world. Standing on the surface of the moon, hand-in-hand they gazed up at the whole of the Planet Earth, a perfect blue jewel strung on a necklace of stars, and smiled.

“Thank you Hama…”

“No Zain, thank you.”

Sometime later, a small boy in Africa looked up, and saw a distant bolt of light streaking across the sky. It looked like a shooting star, and he smiled sadly, wishing upon it for an end to the drought that was killing his village with thirst.

His wish rose up towards the heavens, and the very next day surveyors discovered a new aquifer nearby, one with enough water to provide for every village a hundred miles around. The boy’s wish had been granted, by the two friends he had glimpsed as they soared overhead.

Best Friends, Forever.