company. As Ben moved about in front of the television, the man’s gaze followed him, no matter which direction Ben turned.
Curiosity got the better of him and he pondered how this little feat was possible. A motion capture device or activating a webcam would do the trick, but this was on his television. And as far as Ben knew, he had no such accessories installed. He certainly hoped not. Maybe it was just pure coincidence. Perhaps his reactionary motions were predicted and statistically calculated in marketing offices and their probability evaluated over various test groups.
As Ben continued moving about in an attempt to further understand what was happening, the scrolling ticker returned to the bottom of the screen. No news updates reappeared, but instead the text read, “Ben, can you turn up the volume?”
Ben remained still for a moment, just observing. Just trying to process what was going on. He then moved from side to side, circling the television like a predator stocking its prey. The man in the fedora obliged Ben’s movements by slightly turning his body to match Ben’s changing position.
While countering Ben’s movements, the man seemed less like a basketball player fronting an aggressive defense and more like a disinterested bouncer, unamused by the antics of club patrons waiting in line.
Unsure of how long Ben was going to continue testing the perimeter, the man in the fedora raised his hand and pointed toward the remote on the table and then shifted the aim of his finger skyward.
The scrolling ticker followed suit with further instruction. “The volume Ben. Turn it up.”
Ben thought for a moment about another possibility before quickly disappearing into the hallway. He began a hasty search of his house. Checking his rooms, the closets, behind the shower curtains, everywhere someone might have enough room to stage such a prank.
Behind each turn and opened door he half expected to descend upon a room and find signs of some sort of production crew standing atop a slew of unkempt cables, intently focused on a monitor projecting closed-circuit images of Ben’s living room. And if not a professional production crew, then perhaps just some friends orchestrating the same thing for an elaborate bit of amusement.
After a quick search Ben was satisfied that his house was indeed empty. With his hunch proved incorrect, he returned to the man in the fedora hat still standing in his television screen.
Not much had changed in Ben’s momentary absence. The text still scrolled its message about the volume, but now the man stood with his arms crossed, impatiently tapping his foot.
Ben grabbed the remote. But rather than turn up the volume he instead pressed the rubbery button on the opposite side of the controller to change the channel.
The screen briefly flickered as the channel moved up one setting. Still the same image. Ben pressed the button again, switching to yet another channel. The man was still there, but now he waved his hand toward Ben in an exaggerated fashion, mocking Ben’s feeble efforts to make him disappear.
Ben paused for a moment before hovering his left thumb over the volume adjuster. He pointed the controller directly at the man on the screen and held down the button for a few seconds. He watched as the vertical lines of the volume-level indicator continued to stack from left to right across the screen.
The hatted man’s gaze also turned downward and followed the bars as they increased across the base of the television. When 2/3rds of the screen was full of volume bars the man looked up at Ben and spoke.
“Finally. Well hello there Ben. Appreciate you turning up the sound. Saved me from having to shout. And having a one-way conversation over an update ticker isn’t all that ideal either. Well, don’t be rude, invite me in, won’t you?”
That was it. Ben had had enough of this game. He didn’t know what was going on, but didn’t feel a need to play along any more. Without a word he pressed the power button on the remote and zapped the television off.
The man disappeared.
Ben stood in front of the television, waiting. He watched the fading glow intently, bracing himself for whatever would come next.
Content not to press his luck, Ben didn’t bother turning the television back on, but instead placed the remote on the edge of the entertainment center and tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Such an attempt at mentally processing the encounter lasted mere moments before Ben turned to see the man in the fedora now sitting at his kitchen table. Ben was caught by surprise once more. The uninvited stranger was no longer relegated to the dimensional confines of the 32” television, but was now a full-sized man.
The seated man casually began examining the back of his hands, the length and cleanliness of his finger nails seeming to provide more interest than Ben’s antics.
After a deliberately long moment of silence, the man finished contemplating the grooming of his fingers and gazed up at Ben. With a flowing jester of his arm toward the open chair across from him, the man spoke once again. “Ben why don’t you go ahead and have a seat and I’ll start explaining things?”
Ben remained in place, his body frozen while his mind tried to process what he was being told.
“Who are you?” and “Why are you here?” were questions Ben would have liked to ask, but before he could muster such a response, the man in the hat continued to speak.
“I am Dador Geschenk. You summoned me, and I am here to grant three of your wishes. I have been doing this for some time now, and trust me, it’s much easier if you just sit there and let me explain a bit.”
Ben’s gaze remained fixed on the stranger in his house, but he somehow managed to move to the open seat across from Dador.
“There, that’s better,” Dador coaxed. “Now, where were we?”
Ben glanced a confused look toward the television and then back at his new, size-adjusted guest, prompting Dador to continue.
“Right the TV. Neat little trick, huh? I suppose that’s as good of place to start as any,” Dador conceded.
“Just something I’ve been trying out lately. You get kind of bored after the first few centuries of doing the same old shtick. Plus, I’ve found that people are more likely to believe something if they see it on TV first. Oh and not to mention I tend to get shot at a bit less this way,” Dador added.
“You see, for some reason people are a bit more reluctant to shoot at one of their appliances than they are at a plain old intruder. You can replace an ordinary thief easy enough, but actual things cost money. Taking form in your TV was just a bit of insurance. Your flat-screen became my non-human shield of sorts,” Dador explained.
As Dador rambled on, Ben glanced toward his front door, contemplating his chances of making it out before his guest could react.
Dador sensed Ben’s alarm and gave a slight chuckle before continuing, “Their bullets have no effect on me, but still, dealing with the noise and debris from the discharge tends to create a bit of unwanted attention, and sort of starts things off on the wrong foot,” he confessed.
Dador’s mentioning of bullets now had Ben instinctively scanning the room, searching for potential makeshift weapons.
Sensing that he hadn’t exactly won Ben over, Dador continued his speech with a bit more urgency.
“I realize you’re probably having some trouble absorbing all this Ben, and it’s understandable. All I ask is that you just hear me out for a moment.”
Dador accepted Ben’s silence as permission to continue.
“Sometimes I’m referred to as a genie. It’s not exactly an accurate description, but if looking like this…” Dador said while simultaneously shifting his human form to that of a scaly, green-skinned cartoonish being with a well-groomed goatee, “…makes me more believable, that’s no problem. I tend to just go with what I think will work best.”
Returning to his fedora-wearing human form, Dador resumed speaking without even registering Ben’s shocked look.
“Let’s see. What else? I don’t live in the lamp you bought yest
erday from Morgan. I could, I suppose. But I don’t. Choosing the form of my appearance, how and where I appear, as well as incorporating objects such as lamps or TVs as tools are all just devices I use. Visualization is so key to effective communication.”
“So, you’re not a genie? You just can look and act like one?” Ben was finally able to interject.
“If a legend is built up around you and it’s basically wrong, you still might have to adopt some of its aspects to help bridge the gap between story and reality,” Dador clarified.
“So no, I’m not a genie. Sometimes I like to think of myself simply as a waiter, and the universe is the restaurant I work at,” Dador offered. “And here I am, at your table, ready to take your order. Three wishes. Anything you fancy. So Ben, what would you like?”
Having never been in such a situation before, he was not quite sure how to respond. Normally when caught off guard Ben would resort to staring blankly into space before feebly offering a “Beg your pardon?” or something to that effect. Having a shape-shifting waiter of unknown origins, but clearly with supernatural powers and well-groomed fingernails, sitting at his kitchen table offering him three wishes, was something else entirely.
Not sure of how to proceed, or even fully understanding what was happening, Ben decided to stall with questions.
“What if I’m not hungry right now?” Ben asked. “I mean, suppose I am, and I just