Page 48 of A Wish For Wilma
‘GULP for short,’ added Dhassim, with a pleading smile.
‘Meaning what? Is the world about to end? Are we destined to live together for ever like some nutty commune, bartering wishes for survival?’ Jinnie sent up a prayer to whoever might care to listen. Right now, she’d settle for any benign deity who’d pat her on the head and assure her that sanity was just around the corner.
‘It means that a mahoosive error occurred. What we believed to be true is in fact a pile of steaming horse poop. Sam is… Well, he’s not an almighty Djinn.’
‘I’m not?’ Sam’s expression leapt from puzzlement to delight, with a brief pause for disappointment.
‘No, you are not.’
Jinnie understood Sam’s confusion. Aaliyah’s reaction to him had been so extreme, and then there’d been the nightmares and the trip back to Arabia… They’d told him categorically what he was, and how the Federation of Benign Intelligent Beings had declared him a bona fide Djinn. But now…?
‘It’s what you might call a cosmic cock-up of catastrophic proportions,’ continued Aaliyah. ‘Thanks to him’ — she shot a venomous look at Dhassim — ‘we’ve been barking up the wrong tree all along. We were fed misinformation because Dhassim didn’t perform the most basic of tasks.’
Wilma made a calm-down gesture with both hands. ‘Keep your hair on, folks. If Sam isn’t a Djinn — and I’m no’ entirely sure what a Djinn is — does that mean someone else is?’
Aaliyah shook her head. ‘Thereisno almighty Djinn. All the signals were wrong because I foolishly accepted Dhassim’s outdated data when I should have cross-checked our WIFIs.’
She thrust Dhassim’s WIFI back at him. ‘Show them, dimwit.’
Sheepishly, Dhassim studied the screen. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.
‘I saidshowthem!’
Wilma, Jinnie and Sam took up their positions around Dhassim. A warning message —GULP status critical— flashed on the screen in bold red letters. He cleared the warning to reveal another brief message:DJ inn’
‘Erm, I don’t understand,’ said Sam, with a frown. ‘Itlookslike the word Djinn, but the spacing is unusual and there’s no mention of me.’
Aaliyah huffed and puffed until she was ready to blow the house down. ‘It’s a bloody typo! Without the necessary updates, our WIFIs can glitch and make mistakes.’
‘Ach, like the time my Instagram account got hacked and I was followed by six Keanu Reeveses, four Prince Harrys and three baldy guys who claimed to have the lovemaking skills of Pierce Brosnan.’ Wilma tutted.
Jinnie chuckled. ‘Gran, I didn’t know you were on Insta, and that isn’t hacking. It’s just random weirdos following your account.’
‘Whatever,’ huffed Wilma.
‘My darling Aaliyah, I hang my head in shame,’ said Dhassim, dropping his head in a reasonable approximation of contrition. ‘If this is my fault, I will spend eternity making amends. Which in genie terms means a very, very long time.’
‘Enough!’ Aaliyah roared. The crystal glasses in Sam’s drinks cabinet rattled and Jinnie patted her stomach as the baby performed a triple somersault. ‘Can you not see what is staring you in the face?’
Wilma looked again at the screen. Then she gave a whoop of joy, startling a bemused Jinnie.
‘If it’s a typo, it has an extra “n”. The message says that DJ is in. Meaning the wee fella was ready to enter the world. Although I’m the one who christened him DJ. Am I on the money, Aaliyah?’
‘At least someonehas a working brain round here,’ sniffed Aaliyah.
‘You’re telling us that all Dhassim’s WIFI did was announce the arrival of DJ?’ said Jinnie.
‘Wouldn’t a pregnancy test have been easier?’ added Sam.
‘You do not know the ways of the genie world,’ said Aaliyah. ‘I never resembled Jinnie, with her inflated stomach, swollen ankles and strange food cravings.’
‘Keep the compliments coming,’ said Jinnie, rolling her eyes. ‘I assume DJ was the result of an immaculate conception, then?’
During the discussion Dhassim had fiddled with his WIFI, pausing only to ask Aaliyah his password. Now his face gleamed with delight. ‘Version 200.1.1 installed and ready to rock and roll. And I’ve just searched the meaning of “immaculate conception” and I can assure you that Aaliyah and I—’
‘Too much information, lad.’ Wilma waggled a finger at Dhassim. ‘Not that I’m a prude, but some things are better left unsaid.’
‘Getting to the bottom of all of this is like mining for gold with a toothpick,’ said Sam. ‘As Wilma said aeons ago, we’re hungry. Some decent grub wouldn’t go amiss.’
