Altruistic Genie

“Do a kindness unto another person for a pain of equal and opposite proportion unto yourself.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Part 4

After deciding to actually use my wishes, it was an easy choice to use them on the people closest to me. Even though the net pleasure-pain transaction would be the same no matter who I used the wishes on, I didn’t want to help a stranger, especially at cost to myself. I wanted to be able to see the effects of my altruism, to feel the resulting smiles on my friends’ faces. That was the only way it would be worth it to me.

I also made a few decisions as to the nature of what I would wish for. I didn’t want to make any of my friends millionaires, for fear of making my family homeless and because my friends didn’t seem particularly unhappy about not being millionaires. Continuing with the millionaire example, I felt that the delta or marginal difference in happiness level between their comfortable level of wealth now and their wealth at a million dollars was less than the marginal difference another wish could make. I was waiting for a single bad event with a long-lasting negative impact. I felt that reversing some horrible ill-fortune would do more good for my friends than adding some specific good thing to their lives. How would I know what they wanted, anyways? People don’t even know what they want for themselves until something they already have is gone. So, I was waiting for a friend to lose something.

Fortunately, a week after Sadie’s, Jason crashed his car. Jason loved his car. It was a black 1993 Toyota Corolla with cracked paint on the hood and a dent on the roof from us sitting on it. He bought it for himself on his 16th birthday using a combination of Bar Mitzvah cash and tutoring money. He drove it everywhere, preferring to DD than drink most nights just so he could drive his beloved car. It was, without a doubt, his most prized possession.

The next morning, his mom dropped him off, his eyes glassy and his hair messy. He had a bruise on his arm by his shoulder he told us later was an injury due to whiplash.

He was on the freeway, he said. His sister was hungry after lacrosse practice, so they were going to her favorite ramen place in Saratoga. He remembered the few seconds before the crash like a video clip was playing the same three second loop on his eyelids every time he closed his eyes.

“Riptide just started playing. So I’m tapping my finger on the steering wheel in tune, and I’m starting to get into it. Right when he says ‘You’re the magician’s assistant in their dre-e-e-ams’ I turn and look at my sister, because, you know. She helped me with my tricks when I was into magic. We were approaching the crest of a hill, you know that hill on 280? Before Saratoga? Well, a car was stopped just over the hill. It was rush hour, I guess. I always forget about rush hour.” He haltered, and when he started talking again, his voice squeaked an octave higher. I touched his shoulder. “I tried to brake, but I must’ve panicked. My foot hit the gas. I remember speeding into the back of the car. The airbag went off. I remember the sound of glass breaking. I think the Prius I hit hit another car in front of it.” An image of dominoes falling came to mind.

I didn’t know what to say. “Dude…” I sighed and caught my breath quickly. “Dude.”

Nat wasn’t as tongue-tied as I was. “Oh my God, Jason! Are you OK?”

“Yeah, just a little bruised.”

“I’m sorry, bro.”

“Your car was a piece of shit anyways, right?” Everyone looked at me. Jason got up and walked away.

“Not the right thing to say, Adam.” She shook her head.

“At all.”

“I’m sorry! Dude. I take it back, alright?” I called after him. He slowed, but he didn’t stop walking.

That night I heard the opening rift of “Riptide” and the sound of breaking glass as I dreamed of falling for the first time all week.

☼☼☼☼☼ ຂຖຜຟຜຖຂສຫຂ ☼☼☼☼☼ ຂຖຜຟຜຖຂສຫຂ ☼☼☼☼☼

Still, I expected Jason to bounce back. I thought he would start biking to school again, which he did almost every day, and that he would start biking to get around, which he did but only to the tiniest degree. Part of the reason why he didn’t bike more to hangout or meetup was solely a logistical problem: He could bike to lunch because it was still light outside, but he had trouble meeting for an 8 or 9 p.m. movie on account of he couldn’t see. But I suspected an underlying reason of dignity or laziness as to why he didn’t want to come to my house to play video games that weekend. It was still light out, but he didn’t answer my calls and texted a simple I’d rather stay in today, which ran directly orthogonal to his baseline extroversion and light-heartedness.

My concerns were confirmed when I noticed my conversations with Jason always seemed to drift, as if by accident, to the topic of his car. Talking about the new Chinese restaurant that opened downtown, he reminded me that he had indeed crashed, so would I please drive him there to try it sometime? Avery’s approaching annual beach birthday bash was understandably nostalgia-inducing for last year’s party, to which Jason drove me. When driving him, he suggested I slow down a bit because my speed was making him nervous. The guy had a one-track mind pointed at his precious Corolla.

It was while discussing the upcoming weekend, however, that I realized his ride meant so much more to him than I first thought. We were sitting in my car in the school parking lot.
“I can’t wait to meet up with Sarah-Elizabeth.” He beamed to me with pride or to find envy.

“Your Tinder girl?”

“Yeah. She wants to go to the beach.”

“So when are you going?”

“I can’t man. She doesn’t have a car and I can’t borrow my parent’s.”

“Get your dad to drive you.”

“Do you really expect me to bring a chaperone to the beach on my first date with a girl I’ve never met before?” I knew he was crying before I looked up. “I don’t know what to do, dude.”
“You could borrow my car on Friday night if you want.” I was arranging what I figured was going to be a dress-rehearsal for the eventual happenstance of a wish I decided then I was going to make. Jason’s car was his freedom. He relied on it so heavily, I think I was starting to see him shrivel up like a slug covered with salt. I wouldn’t end up getting the dress rehearsal.

“I wish your car accident never happened.”

“Me too. Me too.”

“No, you don’t understand. “I wish your car accident never happened.” Alejandro appeared.

“I heard you the first time.” He snapped his finger. “It is done. It will happen in the best way possible.”

☼☼☼☼☼ ຂຖຜຟຜຖຂສຫຂ ☼☼☼☼☼ ຂຖຜຟຜຖຂສຫຂ ☼☼☼☼☼

Jason sat in his car, which was parked next to mine. “I’ll see you later.” He pulled out and drove off, slowly but accelerating quickly. I guess he hadn’t yet learned to be careful when he drove.

I just then decided to take the freeway home. It was a little bit slower to take the freeway, but there was a hair salon by way of 85 South to Camden. Nat had suggested that I needed a haircut earlier that day. I pulled onto the freeway accelerating into the middle lane. I had two exits before mine.

As it started, I began losing agency. I was the puppet of the universe getting tossed around by forces larger than myself to equalize some karmic equation for which the constants had not yet been solved. “Riptide” started playing on the radio. When it got to “You’re the magician’s assistant in their dre-e-e-ams,” my head turned to look at the empty passenger seat. I regretted taking the freeway route, but I realized this would have happened no matter the route or that something outside of my control had compelled me to take this way home.

My foot hovered over the brake pedal before settling on the accelerator and slamming the car into the Prius stopped in front of me. It was rush hour, of course it was rush hour. Traffic is caused by turbulence, the phenomena in which one particle slows down the flow of the whole fluid. I thought then, not for the first or last time, of how much nicer it would be if I was the only mind on the freeway and could control when every car stopped or started; there wouldn’t be traffic and this accident and Jacob’s just wouldn’t have happened. If my pain was somehow weightier or more real than Jason’s, if my pleasure mattered more than his, the universe wouldn’t be doing this to me. Then I remembered that this was my decision, and I felt more OK with it.

I heard what I’m sure was the exact same sound of glass breaking that Jason had heard while my airbag exploded. I jerked forwards, then back, in the space of several heartbeats or a single breath. I stumbled out of my car, taking the identical confused steps forward that Jason had taken out of his car and into the stalled traffic. As I regained control of myself, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed 9-1-1. There had been an accident.

An ambulance took me to the hospital, which I assured the paramedics was totally unnecessary. They told me I was suffering from a shock and that it would be smart to go to the hospital. I relented and consented.

At the hospital, Jason called me. “I had a fender bender on my way home.” he told me, hurried and excited. “It could have been a lot worse. Thank God I looked up right in time. I guess I should be more careful. I’m really glad I have this car.”

“I know. I actually had a car accident too, you won’t believe the coincidence.”

“Are you OK?”

“I’m in the hospital.” He started shouting something. “But it’s alright. I’m fine.”

I trust Alejandro, I decided after hanging up. He really did it in the best way possible. Jason still got the message to be safer and appreciate his car. I sighed a breath of satisfaction at my decision to use the genie. Even though I didn’t like getting tossed around like a Raggedy Anne doll salad.