It was nearly twenty years ago now. I was sitting in the middle of an over crowded storage unit, while my father scoured it for anything of value. My tiny searching hands probed the depths of a large wooden box, and emerged with a beautiful and elegant lamp, inlaid with all manner of swirls, beautiful designs. It took barely a touch before the lamp began to emit a soft, warm glow. My father, being thoroughly engrossed in an album of collectible stamps, would hardly have noticed if I lit the entire unit on fire.
A cloud of wispy smoke began to shoot from the lamp billowing upwards in the most peculiar fashion It formed the shape of a man with a light brown skin, a purple turban, and an enormously large mustache. From his waist downwards was a simple trail of smoke leading to the spout of the lamp. He stared intently at me with his arms crossed in the most proper genie fashion. He stretched out one hand to display a single finger. One wish.
To a child of hardly seven, the fantastical was nearly commonplace. Every day was a new adventure, every story just as real as the one I now seemed to be living. Perhaps these selfsame stories misrepresented the maliciousness of genies. Or perhaps I had just found one in a particularly benevolent frame of mind. Either way, my small wish was not tainted or twisted or wrapped on its head in any way. It was simply granted, and the genie was allowed his rest.
"I want to make friends."
It was a simple wish. A child's wish. A child who was not overly liked by his peers. The wish was granted tenfold. Now, friends were something to be made in a second, a moment, and nearly none were spared from the genie's awesome might. By the end of the grade I was personally tutored by every teacher, I was the most popular, and was always given the best of everything, even when someone else had earned it. Having friends, it seemed, had its benefits.
This particular boon made the entirety of my life rather simple and easy. Extensions on projects were frequent, free food was a given, and I had my pick of any job available. Because of this, it may come as quite a shock to know that since the day I made that wish I have regretted it. Everything I have done, everything I have, is due to the genies powers. What of my success have I gained on my own? I am the worlds youngest CEO, and a billionaire, simply by merit of other people forfeiting their hard work in the sake of 'friendship'. Can I really be called a friend after I've stolen so much?
That question has plagued me for years. Are my friends true friends? Or mere machinations of some supernatural power? If I had wished for candy, or ice cream, or money, my life today would be drastically different. I would have less friends, that is for certain, but would those friendships be more valuable?
After nearly a decade of searching I found it. The small little unassuming lamp sat on my polished rosewood desk. It had seemed so large in my hands all those years ago. Not one person had touched it since its rediscovery. A personal favor to me from many 'friends'. Twenty years the book had said, twenty years before the genie would grant another wish. Tomorrow was twenty years to the day from that fateful encounter. Tomorrow was the day I would discover who my true friends were.