A Personal Genie

Christmas came and went. Cold winds were slowly being replaced by mild rains. The nights were still dark, the clouds still grey. None of that mattered to Robbie; he walked the streets with a newfound, brimming confidence.

Robbie had been busy with Mr. Wonder, revelling in the gifts of the magician. They talked whenever Robbie watched a video. Wonder gave out his generic questions, with Robbie supplying enthusiastic responses. He felt as if he could tell Wonder anything, and every time he told him of an 'interest,' the results only made Robbie love Mr. Wonder more.

When Robbie said he was interested in online poker, he won £26,000 in his first game. A suspicious amount of money by all accounts, Robbie decided didn't press any further into the world of gambling. Not yet anyway. Though he loved Mr. Wonder, and knew he could ask for anything, he couldn't garner suspicion. No one else could find out. They'd either call him mad, or worse, they might believe him and seek out Wonder for themselves.

No, that couldn't happen. He was Robbie's discovery, Robbie's genie.

The door to Robbie's studio flat unlocked with a click. From there, it took another minute to open, with Robbie practically forcing the stiff door from its frame.

Dark, dreary, it was exactly as Robbie remembered it. He'd expected something to change, something to feel different after nearly two months away. Nothing did.

At home or at Uni, Robbie did little more than sit around at his desk. Typing, watching, staring, it was a usual life in this age. The only difference between here and home was that Robbie could sit at his desk in complete silence. At home, with his sisters and whatever boys they'd chosen to love in a given week, it was impossible to find quiet. Robbie liked the quiet. There was comfort in it.

First, he unpacked his laptop, placing it in the centre of his desk, surrounded by odd knickknacks, toys Robbie had kept since he was little, and a scented candle that was all but burnt out. He threw a small suitcase of clothes at the end of his bed; he'd sort that out tomorrow. Maybe the day after. Whenever he felt like it really.

Robbie flopped on his bed and sighed. It wasn't a long journey back from home; he wasn't even the one driving. Still, a car journey that lasted more than twenty minutes was enough to tire Robbie out.

Tired as he felt, his eyes could not shut. They were drawn to the laptop, the centrepiece of the shrine that was his desk. Robbie hadn't spoken to him today, hadn't told him of his latest interest, the thing he'd waited so long to ask for.

As much as he enjoyed the company Mr. Wonder, Robbie had also been testing what wishes the magician could grant. Robbie wanted to know if he had a limit. So far, it seemed nothing was out of the pale magician's reach. In labelling his interest as 'women', Robbie had got more tinder matches in a day than his phone could keep up with. He had to delete the app the following morning because the screen would have otherwise stayed frozen.

Stop being scared, Robbie told himself. Now is as good a time as any, why delay?

Robbie opened up his laptop. Mr. Wonder's page was already open, as it had been for many weeks now. He clicked on a random thumbnail, for a video he hadn't seen before. Every time Robbie wanted something, he had to watch a new video. There weren't too many of them left now.

The video took a second to load, though for Robbie it felt like minutes. In that second, a rush of doubt entered his mind. What if the internet was down? What if Mr. Wonder wasn't there? What if he'd had enough of Robbie?

None of these questions needed answers as the familiar crystals of Mr. Wonder's eyes peered at Robbie, their gaze easing his tension. He was secure once again.

"Welcome," Mr. Wonder chuckled. "Have a look around."

Again, a warmth filled Robbie's heart as he heard that voice. It was the sweetest feeling of nostalgia, though Robbie hadn't known the magician for very long.

The camera panned slowly around the large, empty stage. Robbie knew it was big, but from seeing it in its entirety he felt pity for Mr. Wonder. The stage was much too big for him. It reminded Robbie of something he'd seen in a nature documentary. A polar bear, swimming alone through the open ocean. No land as far as the eye can see, nothing except the same, empty space. It must be lonely. Even as the camera looked out across the audience, there were only empty seats. Sometimes Robbie thought there must have been an audience; he'd heard laughter, cheering, even seen the backs of their heads. Perhaps it depended on the day. Yeah, that must be it. Someone as talented as Wonder wouldn't perform without an audience. He wouldn't be able to, they'd be pounding down the doors.

"Alright, enough of that," Wonder grabbed the camera forcefully, once again drawing it back to his white, gaunt face. "Anything catch your eye?"

Robbie shook his head. It was a slow, deliberate movement.

Mr. Wonder raised a curious brow. He'd got the message, even if it wasn't time to respond yet.

"Oh," he said. "And what might interest you?"

"Tara," Robbie said. He shrunk in his chair as he spoke, as if the word himself scared him. He'd never declared any feelings for Tara out loud before, not to anyone.

Mr. Wonder giggled, his laugh echoing in the empty space. His mouth opened wide, like a snake unhinging its jaw, and he laughed deeply from his stomach. He laughed and laughed until any semblance of colour drained from his face. His eyes glittered under the light of the stage as he rocked back and forth with glee, clutching at his stomach.

"Wondrous," he said eventually. "Absolutely wondrous."

Robbie closed the video after that. It was all he needed. He didn't have it in him to watch the rest. Nervous sickness stirred in his stomach. Was that too far? Was Mr. Wonder even gifting him these 'interests'? What if it was just coincidence? What if he was mad?

Robbie didn't find any answers to those questions that night, but he did the next day.

In his usual corner of the computer cluster, Robbie worked the day away, trying to keep the thought of the night before from his head. He'd been in there since 10AM, dreading the time he could expect Reuben, and the girl he was too scared to even think of.

Reuben showed up at his usual time, twelve o'clock, near enough exactly. He flicked Robbie in the side of his head to let him know he'd be distracted for the next ten to fifteen minutes. Reuben seemed as cheerful, as arrogant, as posh as he usually did.

Before he was halfway through telling Robbie about the shooting weekend he went on over Christmas, Tara appeared.

She crept up on the boys silently. She looked different today. To start, she was wearing a jumper. No crop top, no fluorescent colours, just an oversized, plain black jumper. There was something off about her face too. Tara never smiled, not passively. Her face rested at a frown. Today though, she was smiling. A sad, loose smile hung under her nose. Hope sparked in Robbie as he saw that sadness.

"Hey," Tara muttered, poking Reuben's shoulder affectionately. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," Reuben said. "Are you alright?"

Tara nodded and sniffed. Reuben followed her over to a quiet corner of the library. Robbie watched from a safe distance, making sure it only ever looked like he was observing the demise of their relationship out of the corner of his eye.

An hour and a fair bit of crying later and it was all over. Robbie almost felt bad for Reuben as he saw him alone on a table, head hanging low. Almost.

Eventually Reuben dragged his melancholy self back to the seat next to Robbie. This time, Robbie welcomed the distraction. He heard all the gory details of the breakup, hiding his joy with occasional nods, a pat on the shoulder and 'it'll be alright mate.'

None of it seemed to cheer Reuben up, though Robbie didn't care too much. A lad like Reuben, with his looks, his money, would never be wanting for girls.

That fact didn't stop Reuben killing himself two days later. He'd done it in the most dramatic, show-off way possible; jumping from the top of the library. He could have seriously hurt someone. Well, someone other than himself.

He'd left a note in his jacket pocket, peeking out so that people would have to approach the shattered mess his body had become. It seemed Reuben hadn't been a boy who thought things through; as soon as his body had smashed against the concrete, the paper had become so drenched with blood that only about half the words were legible. He didn't make a backup. No one would be able to truly tell what Reuben's final message to the world was.

This all proved too much for Robbie. Causing a breakup, he could deal with. Manipulating minds, that was fair game. The death of a friend was too much though, too personal.

From that day, Robbie didn't watch Mr. Wonder anymore, however much it hurt to part with the magician. He stopped using his laptop entirely, knowing it would only drive him back to the magician's content. He found some safety in his phone and Uni computers, but even then, they would play Wonder's videos at times. Inexplicably, without prompt, that pale face, the endless stare, would find Robbie once more. It would call him back, beg him to come back. More than once Robbie almost caved in.

He locked his phone away, stopped using computers. That didn't stop Mr. Wonder. The polite requests to return to the magician turned sour. The pleads turned to demands, the voice like caramel sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Eventually Wonder stopped reaching out through technology, though Robbie knew he had not disappeared from his life.

In crowds, he would see flashes of orange. Blue eyes like crystals staring at him for a moment before disappearing. In the shower, strange bubbling black fluid would pour over Robbie instead of water, the smell so foul he had stopped risking showers since. Being alone was when Robbie felt Wonder's presence the most. As walked home, Robbie would endlessly watch his back to see nothing. As he reached into his pocket to grab his keys, he could feel eyes staring at him.

He'd never turned; he was too scared of what might be there. There was a presence behind him, something ominous, something that made his legs freeze and his breath quicken. He always opened the door just before the presence got too close, but there would come a day when it would reach him. The night before last Robbie swore he felt the shiver of an icy, inhuman grip on his shoulder.

He locked the door as soon as he entered his flat. Still, he knew he was being watched, that there was something waiting just outside the safety of his flat.

Robbie flicked on the lights. Usually, he preferred the duller, less oppressive light of a lamp. The ceiling light was too bright, clinical, but at least it let Robbie see every inch of his small flat. Light shone on every corner that could've otherwise hid a man.

No one was there though. No one was ever there, no matter how much Robbie expected there to be someone.

Robbie looked over to his laptop. Closed, as usual, unplugged from the wall and with the battery removed. He kicked off his shoes before strolling over to the kitchen. Nothing in the fridge. Shit. No dinner tonight then. Robbie didn't order take out, not since he believed he was being watched. Take out meant he'd have to open the door, to let someone close to him. Too much of a risk.

He sighed and flopped on his bed. How long could this go on? Would there even be an end?

No. Robbie knew there would be no end to this. For what reason, he'd never know. He'd turned his back on the best thing that had happened to him for a long time, and now he was paying the price.

I mean, Robbie told himself. Is it really my fault though? It's not exactly fair. My mate died, for fuck's sake.

It was only then that Robbie remembered he'd never exactly told Mr. Wonder he was leaving his audience. He'd left without a goodbye. A spark of hope lit in Robbie's belly.

That must be why he was following him, showing up where he wasn't meant to. He was a scorned lover, not a vengeful spirit.

A desperate, thankful smile crept across Robbie's face. He could salvage this, of course he could. Mr. Wonder was kind, everything he'd ever done for Robbie had been good. He'd always done as asked.

With a burst of careless excitement, Robbie flicked open his laptop screen, jamming the battery back into the back of it and switching it on with a firm button press. It took what felt like an age to load the desktop. Robbie tapped the edges of the desk eagerly.

The desktop didn't load. In its place was a still image of an empty stage, the picture taken from the perspective of a seat in the audience. In the centre of the stage was a chair, sitting on which was a large white sign made of card. In an extravagant font of crimson, it read:

'Gone for lunch! Be back soon!'

Shit.

There was a noise. Low, quiet breathing emanating from Robbie's laptop speakers. This wasn't a picture; it was a video. An unerringly still video taken from within the audience. Behind the breathing, Robbie could hear other distant noises. Tittering, raspy laughter, the cheer of a broken, croaking voice, sobbing. Each noise was made by not one but multiple voices. Each surrounded Robbie, but none of them were louder than the heavy, inconsistent breathing.

The door to Robbie's flat began to rattle. When he looked to the door, Robbie could've sworn he saw the knob turn, ever so slightly.

Robbie began to panic. He slammed his laptop shut, throwing it to the floor. His heart was beating quickly in his chest, thumping with great strength. He looked around wildly; expecting to see Mr. Wonder behind him, in front of him, anywhere.

There was nothing, no one. The rattling at the door stopped suddenly. That was almost worse.

Robbie crawled back into bed defeated, more terrified than he had been before. He'd keep his light on tonight, just as a child would in the hopes light could defend against any and all terrors.

Robbie didn't remember falling asleep. From his fear, he expected to be awake all night. Though, in a sudden bout of tiredness, he had fallen asleep even among his anxieties.