Genie and Engineer 1: The Engineer Wizard

by Glenn Michaels

  Paul had to admit it; the man did have a point. “Well...no, not really. But from the way she acts and all the dates we’ve been on over the last couple of weeks, I think she does.”

  Uncle Sam nodded sagely. “Possibly. But will she still love you when she finds out the truth about you?”

  Uh, yet another good question. “You mean about my identity?”

  Uncle Sam speared Paul with a look. “More than that. You have lied to her repeatedly. About your name, where you came from, and your job. Also, you have failed to tell her about your magical powers. For some women, a major omission of fact such as that is as bad as a lie. And you have failed to tell her that you are casting magical spells on her body.” The strategist shook his head slowly. “Before you can take your relationship to the next level, you must tell her the truth, all of it. And when you do, she might walk out on you!”

  Meekly, Paul hung his head, now even more depressed than before. “Yes, she just might. She does have a bit of a temper.”

  “And if she does leave you, then your question about The Plan will be answered,” the specter pointed out. “You can proceed from there.”

  Paul squirmed in his chair. “But what if she doesn’t dump me?”

  “Then you must work with her, as couples do, make joint decisions, and face the situation together,” the other answered. “However, in that regard, you should be concerned about one more factor, before you make your decision.”

  “What’s that?” Paul cautiously asked.

  “You have magical powers, yes. She does not.” Uncle Sam lifted his hat and picked some lint off the hatband. “Any relationship between a man and a woman must be between equals in order to be successful. Therefore, you must give her the same powers.”

  “I planned to—” Paul started to say.

  The icon held up a hand, anticipating what Paul was about to say. “That’s not my concern. It’s what those powers might do to her, how they will change her, that you must think about. Do you not remember the genie’s apprehension about how you might use your powers? Well, now, you must make the same judgment about another person. How will Capie use that power? You cannot deny that your powers have changed you. They will certainly change her as well. But in what way? Think about it. And put it into context with The Plan. If she becomes a wizard too, then you will need to create another enhanced talisman, one for her. And if you are successful, if The Plan works, she could become one of the two most powerful people on the planet. Some cannot handle that large of a change in their lives. Can she?”

  Uncle Sam was correct. Paul had not considered that aspect of the situation at all. Okay, maybe the fellow really was superintelligent.

  From experience, Paul knew that love could blind a person to the realities of the one they loved. He believed Capie to be a decent, honest, and caring person, but was his assessment correct? Or was he just seeing in her what he wanted to see?

  And even if his current judgment of her was correct, was Uncle Sam right? Might she change in the future? Like Gary Mitchell in the Star Trek episode “Where No Man Has Gone Before,” when he acquired almost godlike powers?

  Paul needed to do some serious thinking and to be as brutally honest about things as possible.

  “Are you saying that I shouldn’t take the risk? That I shouldn’t tell her the truth?” he tentatively asked Uncle Sam.

  “Not at all,” the personality replied. “In love as well as in war, you cannot succeed without risk. But the risk must be carefully evaluated and balanced against the chance of success. Too much risk can be disastrous, yes, so you must be careful. However, don’t let the risk paralyze you, either.”

  Paul pondered the advice for a minute.

  “What would you do?” he asked Uncle Sam. “If you were in my position, what choice would you make?”

  “I really can’t answer that question for you,” the other candidly replied. “But consider this as well. From time immemorial, men have tried their best to protect the women they love. But women are not weak. They have been known to fight alongside their husbands in war. It was that way in the Boer War and that way in the American West. They are strong in many uncounted ways as well. Don’t discount their strengths.

  “And one more thing,” he said, putting his hat on and standing up. “I like Capie. She could have quit after her accident. She could have gone home to Daddy and been an invalid for the rest of her life. Instead, she lives on her own, has a good job, and is successful in her life. She’s a fighter. You should take that into consideration, too, when you make a decision.”

  He faded from sight.

  Paul’s ears burned. The strategist was right. He did indeed have a good deal to think about.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Westbound, US Highway 34

  Naperville, Illinois

  May

  Saturday, 10:45 a.m. CST

  The traffic out on US Highway 34 was pretty busy, probably due to the fact that it was a Saturday morning and most people had the day off. It was a gorgeous day, with moderate temperatures and a clear blue sky.

  Capie lived between Warrentown and Wheaton, and Paul was headed to meet her. When he had called her the previous evening, she had suggested that they take advantage of the weather and go to Seven Gables Park for a picnic. Paul had readily agreed. For that purpose, on the passenger seat of the Camry, there was a small bucket of fried chicken, Styrofoam containers of potato salad, and a few unidentified food items for their dining pleasure. And too, there were three presents, two of them gift-wrapped, and the third...well, the third was a large stuffed animal, a giant brown and white puppy.

  Paul had taken Uncle Sam’s recommendation to heart. For the previous few days, he had given considerable thought to his relationship with Capie. And he had made two important decisions. It was time she deserved to know the truth about him. No more lies. It was time to clear his conscience. And second, to help smooth any ruffled feathers that the truth might cause, he had better be ready to bestow upon her multiple and lavish gifts.

  Well, not too many. He didn’t want it to appear like he was buying her affection.

  Last night had not been a good night for him. He had tossed and turned in bed, playing out a thousand scenarios in his head. How did he tell her? What combination of words would work best? What did he say if she asked particular questions? Should he use spells to influence her reactions if things went wrong?

  At Naperville Road, Paul hung a left and drove two miles northward, entering the left turning lane for Seven Gables Park.

  It was a nice-looking park. He saw a huge, open, and well-tended field, perfect for sporting a couple of football games. There were a number of people out in the park, some jogging, some riding bikes, others playing catch, and so forth.

  The road split, and Paul took the left fork, coasting through a long parking lot alongside the field before passing two baseball diamonds.

  A small red building glided into view. There were bathroom facilities here, a covered picnic area, and beyond that, a children’s playground of slides, swing sets, and jungle gyms. The whole place was thronged with people, mostly parents watching their children at play.

  Paul parked in one of the few remaining slots in the parking lot. Capie’s van was already present, just a few spaces away.

  Removing the food from the car and wrapping one arm around the stuffed puppy’s neck, he locked the doors and went out in search of her.

  She was sitting next to a picnic table in the shade, not far from the closest baseball diamond, apparently watching the little league game in progress. Paul was still thirty feet away when she turned in her wheelchair, spotted him, and waved.

  When he was closer, Capie giggled and asked, “Who do you have there?”

  “Oh, just a little lost puppy I found along the way somewhere,” Paul replied with a mischievous grin. “I think he needs a home. You wouldn’t by chance know of a place, would you? A nice, warm place where there is plenty of love? Someone who will give him a goo
d name?”

  Capie held out her arms, and Paul dropped the stuffed animal into her grasp.

  “He is so cute! And so soft, too! Oh, I love him already. Thank you. I think I’ll name him Patches, since he has brown spots. How did you know I have a soft spot for stuffed animals?” she asked, cuddling with the big furry toy.

  “Oh, a wiser, older man suggested it,” Paul replied, thinking of the recommendation made by Merlin.

  “Be sure to thank him!” Capie squealed. She managed to tuck the animal in close beside her and then smiled at Paul.

  “I got here early to reserve a table. Otherwise, we would have had to eat on the ground.”

  Anxiously, Paul smiled in return. “Good thinking. Thanks for doing that. I have the food. Did you bring something? Do I need to go get it from your van?”

  “Yes, I did,” she replied as Paul put the chicken and other items on the table. “I got the drinks. There’s a six-pack of root beer in the passenger seat, your favorite flavor.” She dug her van keys from her purse and tossed them to him.

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised as he turned and left.

  Two minutes later, he returned with the drinks.

  “I’m starved,” Capie declared. “I’ll take a leg, a wing, some of that potato salad, and a chocolate cupcake.”

  Paul fixed her a plate and a drink and handed her a plastic fork. Then he helped himself to a plateful as well. Internally, he felt as queasy and as panicky as an expectant father in a hospital waiting room.

  They traded small talk for a few minutes as they ate, his anxiety growing stronger with each passing moment. Indeed, it was difficult for him to keep his hands from trembling. She caught him up on a few things that were happening at her place of work, and then they talked about upcoming movies, the weather, and local politics.

  “You seem distracted,” she said suddenly, wiping the grease from her fingers with a paper napkin. “Is something up?”

  Paul forced a smile, while his knees threatened to collapse underneath him. He actually had to cast a silent spell to strengthen his resolve. “No, not really. Well, maybe.” He took a really deep breath. This was it.

  “There is something I need to tell you,” Paul blurted, looking at the ground instead of at her.

  She froze for a couple of seconds, her expression one of cagey alertness. “You’re married!” she half-guessed/half-implied in a loud voice.

  Paul blinked in shock. “NO! I’m sorry, I mean, no, I’m not married.” This wasn’t going quite the way he had envisioned.

  “You have a fatal disease and only have six months left to live!” she exclaimed, looking even more anxious than before.

  Sighing, Paul said, “Now you are getting warmer. But it’s not the way you think.”

  “Henry, what is going on?” she pressed, making strong eye contact.

  Paul made a valiant effort and got a tight grip on his emotions. “I’m sorry, but I am not Henry Kaufman. My real name is Paul Armstead. And I am from Southern California, not Alaska. And most of the time, I hate Chicago weather.”

  She stared at him in stunned incredulity.

  “You lied to me?” she asked, a bit of a quaver in her voice.

  “Yes, I did,” Paul regretfully admitted.

  “Henry…I mean, Paul, what’s going on? Why are you doing this? Are you dumping me?” she asked, her voice a mixture of apprehension and skepticism.

  “No, far from it.” He took another deep breath. “I am trying to tell you that I am a wizard.”

  Whatever Capie had been expecting, it wasn’t those words. She blinked several times in total confusion.

  “You’re a what? A wizard? Like the people who attend the Wizard World Convention? Or that belong to a coven?” she asked in a cautious, incredulous tone.

  Paul made himself look her firmly in the eye. “No, not that. I am a top-notch, full-blown, USDA prime, functional wizard with advanced magical powers.”

  She shook her head and blinked several times. “Henry, is this all some sort of practical joke or an act of some kind? Are you pulling my leg? A wizard? Really?”

  “The name really is Paul. And I can prove it, too. That I really am a wizard.”

  “A wizard?! You say you have...magical powers?” she asked, her voice now near total disbelief. “Henry, there is no such thing as magic, not really,” she sadly announced with a placating demeanor. “I wish that there were but there isn’t.”

  Paul could see the incredulity plainly in her eyes. So he reached forth his empty right hand and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, a holographic bouquet of yellow buttercups and red roses appeared in his hand.

  Capie stared at the flowers in total denial, her lower lip beginning to quiver.

  He slowly “laid” the virtual flowers on the table (where they promptly faded away) and then looked around quickly. No one was close by, nor did anyone seem to be paying any attention to them.

  “Merlin?” Paul asked desperately.

  The amiable wizard materialized ten feet away, wearing his robe and hat, a solemn expression on his face.

  Bowing deeply, he said, “My dear, it is indeed a great pleasure at last to meet you in person.”

  Eyes widening, Capie’s mouth dropped open. “This just can’t be…” At which point, Capie became speechless. She shook her head back and forth slowly.

  “Capie,” Paul implored her, stepping close to her.

  She reared back in alarm, obviously nervous, with every sign that she was on the verge of panic.

  “No, no, NO!” she shrilled, as she reared back and delivered a roundhouse blow squarely on Paul’s jaw. The impressive blow knocked him off his feet and onto his rear, stunning him and leaving him momentarily senseless. For a few seconds, he saw double.

  “Don’t you ever lie to me again!” she blazed furiously, baring her teeth. “Never! Understand?”

  “Lady, are you okay?” a male voice asked.

  Paul flinched and glanced around. A small crowd was starting to gather, apparently attracted by their, uh, discussion.

  Capie took a really deep breath. “Yes. I’m sorry everyone. Paul here just told me that he’s a wizard. ‘And I thought my last boyfriend was different ‘cause he wore a scarf,’” she said, quoting Becky from The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.

  A momentary silence settled on the scene while people looked at each in unexpected puzzlement.

  “Well, uh, as long as you are okay,” responded a tall brunette woman, giving Paul a mystified glance.

  Everyone in the small crowd turned and left, some of them glancing back for a moment to shake their heads at the strange incident.

  Capie turned back to Paul and produced a hard smile. “How dare you be a wizard?” she growled. “How dare you?! I’ve loved you with all my heart from the moment you quoted Superman to me! I love you with all the fiber of my being! And now you tell me, after all this time that I’ve known you, that YOU ARE A WIZARD?!”

  Paul was finally able to shake his head clear before staring up into her angry red face.

  “You love me?” he asked, stunned. Until this moment, he had thought she loved him, but he had never really known for certain. Yes, he could have cast a spell and found out, but he had been a little concerned what the answer might be.

  He used his hand to move his jaw back and forth, testing to make sure that it wasn’t broken and that all his teeth were still in place.

  “Lady, I love you too,” he said, an incredibly intense surge of relief washing across him, leaving a huge sloppy grin on his face. A quote came unbidden to his mind. “And for the record, ‘I didn’t lie. I willfully participated in a campaign of misinformation.’”

  Then, so help him, he started laughing.

  For several seconds, her expression didn’t change. Then it softened.

  “Fox Mulder, The X-Files,” she grumbled, and soon, she was laughing along with him. Paul picked himself up off the ground and brushed himself off.

  “Henry or Paul or whatever in blazes
your name is,” Capie growled sternly between smiles, “you have an awful lot of explaining to do. Oodles and oodles of it. Let’s go to my place. And mister? Let me tell you something. Your story had better be real good!”

  • • • •

  After Paul cleaned up their picnic area, Capie drove her van while he followed along behind her in his Camry. She lived in an up-scale neighborhood a little closer to Warrentown, in a three-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bathroom, 2,200-square-foot home. Paul had been there a few times, but never for more than a few minutes, usually just to pick her up on a date night.

  This time, she invited him into the kitchen-nook area, where she nuked two cups of hot chocolate for them.

  “So!” she said with a malicious, tight smile. “Who are you, really? What kind of powers do you have? And don’t you dare spare any of the details.”

  For almost three hours, Paul went through the story from beginning to end, with Capie constantly interrupting and asking tons of questions. He showed her the tantalum block and his gold wristband and briefly talked about isotopes. At appropriate points in the story, he even used magical spells to assist with visual aids, including the use of a portal to bring Patches in from the car. Once, he called on Merlin to help but had to send him away again when he noticed how uncomfortable the holographic wizard made Capie feel. And she obviously found the images of the Oni to be particularly disturbing. The only things he left out of the story were the details of his Master Plan and his attempts to cure her injured spinal cord. Twice, they took a break and she prepared more hot chocolate.

  It was late in the afternoon when she leaned back in her wheelchair, seemingly out of questions, but deep in thought.

  Paul felt like the proverbial dishrag—all wrung out. He was glad that they were finished.

  She absently sipped her hot chocolate for a few minutes while he waited patiently.

  “It’s so much to believe all at once,” she finally said out of the blue. “I want to make sure that I understand your story. Six months ago, you were an electrical engineer working at Edwards Air Force Base in California. You gave a man a ride. In return, he gave you a genie that was under an evil spell. You released the genie, and in return, the genie made you into a wizard.”