A Genie in a Jamby Oonah V. Joslin | |
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Chapter 2: Bright as a Berry | |
DJ materialized into his new Earth space. He’d chosen a small, high-rise flat with unsurpassed views of city streets and parkland. It was sparsely furnished with a table, chair, armchair, bed and mirrored wardrobe.
‘I really must get some trendier clothes,’ he said, looking critically in the mirror. The costume the Elders had kitted him out with was made from traditional, brightly coloured silks with bejeweled headgear. It didn’t suit the modern self-image DJ wanted for himself. ‘I look like a freak in these,’ he sighed.
Other than that, his appearance was not bad at all. His corporeal self was rather less imposing than he would have wished, but he could work on that by adjusting the squeeze factor during shifting.
He considered the face to be not unattractive, rather boyishly handsome with just a shadow of beard. The dark brown of the eyes was pleasing and the sallow cheeks could be accentuated by the growth of the facial hair. A snip or two should correct the pointy appearance of eyebrows.
But DJ was determined not to show himself at all until he had addressed his main concern. ‘I really must have feet!’ he muttered. ‘This tailing away like some lamp dweller is so outré.’
Shutting his eyes very tightly, DJ squeezed himself until he felt the thermal forces coalesce within his body. The process wasn’t quite so comfortable in reverse, as it required enough thermal energy for combustion; but with a sudden pop, like hydrogen, he was flame again, familiar and blue. He flickered himself to shake off the transition.
Now that he had some idea of how he wanted to look, he tried again. He concentrated hard on getting feet this time as he began the dimensional shift and expansion. When at last he stood before the mirror again, DJ did indeed have feet but they were huge and further exaggerated by a pair of great pointy slippers curled up at his toes. This was obviously going to take some practice, but there was no time now. The Board of Jeanie’s Jams awaited.
The Boardroom was paneled with wood. It was an elegant room, if not nearly as impressive as the Great Council Chamber. Many of the panels bore carvings of fruit, and a large bowl of fruit in the middle of the table gave off a sweet aroma.
For DJ, the four members of the board were almost as frightening as the High Council had been.
Director Jarre, who was fat and elderly, invited DJ to take a seat. The chair was rather too large and DJ’s legs dangled embarrassingly, his feet far from the floor. He looked down at them swinging with those silly slippers at the end. Lack of time had dictated that he wear his traditional genie clothing for the interview too, though he suspected it would at least be in keeping with human expectations.
‘So,’ began the Director. ‘You look like the business to me.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘And you’re happy with the job description we drew up?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said DJ. He hadn’t actually read it but he supposed it would be okay and anyway he wasn’t interested in such things; he just wanted to get on with his new life.
‘Then we’ll start you on the minimum number of appearances from next week. It’s good to have you on board, son.’ The Director rose from his chair and extended a hand to DJ, who stood to shake it. ‘I’ll leave my solicitor here to finish up the details and Geoffrey, our stylist and publicity man, will fill you in on the details and advertising.’ He patted the bemused DJ so hard on the shoulder that the poor genie wobbled in his slippers and nearly fell over.
‘That was it? No interview?’ DJ later asked Geoffrey who was measuring him up for costumes.
‘Joel Jarre is Jeanie’s Jams and when the Old Man has made his mind up, it’s made up: a fait accompli,’ said Geoffrey with a flamboyant flick of the hands. ‘He inherited the business. He hires and fires who he likes. He must really have taken a shine to you, though. He usually char-grills every candidate.’
DJ was relieved not to have been char-grilled, even if he could take the heat.
‘Now, Deej, may I call you Deej?’
DJ shrugged.
‘The photo shoots are scheduled for next week.’
‘Where will that be?’ asked DJ hopefully. ‘Paris? Istanbul?’
‘No need for all that. We have our own blue-screen studio at the warehouse up the East End,’ said Geoffrey. ‘It’s a very professional set-up. I designed it all myself.’
‘Oh!’
‘You’ll be wearing a colour appropriate to each jam you represent, and the photo shoot and the ad rehearsals start Monday.’ As he spoke, Geoffrey was flicking through a rail of costumes all neatly covered in zipped plastic and carefully labeled.
DJ noticed two giant bee suits; quite alarmingly realistic.
‘Honey,’ explained Geoffrey. ‘Another client. We’ll just start you off with this red tunic and purple hose number, and the purple turban with the red jewel. I wasn’t sure about size. Would you like to slip behind the screen and try them on?’
DJ wasn’t enthusiastic. These clothes were nearly as gaudy as his traditional costume, but he grudgingly complied. It wouldn’t look good to get the sack on his first day — he thought of Obsidian and the mines. He stepped out for Geoffrey to have a look.
‘Oh, that is your colour,’ cooed Geoffrey. ‘You look bright as a berry.’
DJ had to admit, the colour wasn’t bad: dusky ruby he thought it was. ‘What about the feet?’ he asked.
‘Ah well, you see I wasn’t really expecting feet. I didn’t think genies had them. The tights are a bit last-minute, too, but not a bad fit. I was just going to tie those off at the bottom. Sorry, no offense.’
Secretly Geoffrey thought DJ’s slippers were to die for. ‘Why don’t you just wear what you’re wearing now? They tone in beautifully.’
DJ was determined to do no such thing and he seized the opportunity to create a little bit of his own image. ‘No offense taken, Geoffrey,’ he said, ‘leave it with me.’
And that was how it came about that, at the photo-shoot the next week, Jeannie’s Jams was represented by a genie wearing a ruby tunic and red turban, purple tights, day-glow yellow socks and white Nikes. And from then on, there was nothing anyone could do about it.
Copyright © 2010 by Oonah V. Joslin
