All aTwitter: This story is based on a trending hashtag at the time that the section of the story was written. Date and hashtag are placed at the top of the section. If two sections are written during the same day, only a hashtag will be used.
The story behind Twitter - the search for the genie army
July 3 #GenieArmy
He crested the dune. The wind kicked up sand as the hot sun beat down. Life here was unforgiving. One small mistake and a person could wind up dead or worse. He looked over the mass expanse of sand and the undulating, golden waves looked beautiful. Somewhere in that vast wasteland was the key to the genie army.
He rubbed his chin with his right hand. The scruff from three days of no shaving felt pleasantly rough. Removing his backpack, he found the spyglass and extended it. The scene magnified in his eye, but it did not change. He had to hope that his sense of direction and his compass were still in good working order. It would be easy to get lost in a land without landmarks. Fortunately, he knew how to navigate by the heavens.
He flipped the lid on his compass and hoped that the oasis was just over the next dune. It would be nice to take a break during the heat of the day. The desert could hide miraculous treasures. It could also hide painful deaths, both quick and slow. The worst perpetrated by the men who came there.
He tromped and slid and whooshed down the dune. Keeping a solid footing wasn’t a possibility in the shifting sand. One just had to go with the movement and let it guide one’s own body. He liked to think of it as controlled chaos. By flowing with the footsteps rather than fighting them, he could remain upright. Any attempt to impose his will on this land, and he would fall.
He reached the trough of the dune and ascended the next one. From the top, he could see what he was looking for – the oasis. A small body of water surrounded by palm trees, there were sure to be animals. Men of the desert or explorers might also be camped there. Hopefully, everyone would observe the rules of the desert and the oasis.
July 4 #EssenceFest
He finished the trek to the oasis, each step measured to use the least amount of liquid. By keeping his movements slow and steady, he felt that he would be able to make it to the oasis without having to use up all of the water in his canteen. The sun was still a couple of hours away from its zenith, but the desert had been getting exponentially hotter with every passing moment.
As he came closer to the oasis, he could see that a large band of people had encamped around it. White tents were set up at least three deep. The tents varied in size, but none were smaller than a single room. Many looked like they could fifteen or twenty people comfortable. The sound of music rose from the center of the oasis, a strange syncopated beat that was accompanied by a high pitched string that was particularly favored in this part of the world.
The heat of the day would probably be passed more pleasantly than he had expected. Welcoming guests in the desert came in two forms – death and feasts. With the music, he felt sure this would more of the latter than the former. He walked down the pathway set up between the tents. It was wooden and lent an air of permanence to the settlement.
A man with a dark black beard and a large curved sword stood at an intersection blocking the way forward. The explorer was beginning to rethink his assumption of safety. If the group of nomads had claimed this oasis, a thing unheard of in the desert but not impossible as things were changing, trespassing might be met with grave consequences, literally… Well, except there would be not so much a grave as place where the desert would mummify whatever was left when the carrion eaters had finished with it. Admittedly, what was left wouldn’t be much.
Turning wasn’t an option when the man with the sword waved the explorer over. As expected, the guard didn’t speak English or German. What was surprising was that the man also did not speak any dialect of Arabic common to the region. The guard whistled and soon another man, who could be the first guard’s twin, came to replace the first guard. The explorer followed the guard to the largest tent in the gathering.
A small man with no visible hair came out and greeted the explorer in several languages. “Welcome to the Efreetal Essence Fest. Your needs will be provided for traveler. In the name of the Great Spirit, we grant you safety while celebrating with us.”
July 5 #frozen
“I am called Johan ibn Samar al Ffyad. Our patron will be hosting the coming festivities. You may change into suitable clothing and join the festivities when you are prepared.” He clapped his hands. A teenage boy in a white turban came forward and bowed. “Mohammed will lead you to the preparation tent.”
Familiar with the customs of the area, the explorer said, “I am called Peter ibn Adam al Sinclair. I appreciate and accept your patron’s hospitality. I only hope that my presence will do honor to all involved in the festivities.” Silently, Peter thought about the time he would lose, but ignoring the invitation would be an insult to the family that was in charge.
Peter bowed slightly to the teenage boy – not really necessary, but it sometimes helped to make a good impression on those who seemed to be the least in a societal hierarchy. Staying might be beneficial. The Efreet were longtime enemies of the Jinn. It could have something to do with the key.
The young man led Peter to a tent. Inside was a stark white robe, a changing screen and a big wooden box, inside of which was a large metal lock with a key in it – clearly a place to put his items. There was also a table, on top of which was a drink in a glass with ice cubes. Frozen water in the desert? This celebration might be more than Peter was ready for.
July 6 #EssenceFest
The Efreetal Essence Fest lasted three days, and Peter never met the patron. There was plenty of music, a snake charmer and food that would not be believed outside of the oasis. In the end, it seemed like the festival would have nothing to offer the explorer except for a nice couple of days’ diversion and some pleasant words. Filling his canteen and consulting his compass, Peter headed out of the complex of tents.
July 8 #lifechange
“Sir, Mister Sinclair, a moment!” The teen that had first directed Peter to his tent and showed him around the festival sight was running across the wooden sidewalks. “Mister Sinclair! Mister Sinclair!” His accent sounded like he was saying “seenclear,” which Peter didn’t really feel fit him.
The teen caught up with the explorer. “Mister Sinclair, I need a, um, life change. I want to come with you. I can be very useful.”
Peter stopped and turned toward the teen. “Sorry, son, I don’t need a cliché hanging around me.”
“I am not a cliché. I am Sefii ibn Hrakul al Karmai.”
“Look, kid, I am not in the market for a side kick. I have enough trouble trying to keep myself out of hot water without having to look after someone else,” said Peter.
“Then I can test the water and tell you when it is hot. I am very good at telling the temperature even without touching.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Peter sighed. “What about your family?”
“I have no family.”
“Of course you don’t,” said Peter.
“I live here at the whim of the patron. He could leave me in the desert anytime. If you do not take me with you, I will follow anyway. You will see how useful I can be.”
“Well, when you put it that way… But if the whole of the patron’s tribe comes down on us, I will give you back to them,” said Peter.
“No one even come look for us.”
“Well, go get your stuff,” said Peter.
“It’s all here.” Sefii held up a pitiful looking deflated sack. If they found anything worthwhile, at least they would have some way to carry it out of the desert.
He crested the dune. The wind kicked up sand as the hot sun beat down. Life here was unforgiving. One small mistake and a person could wind up dead or worse. He looked over the mass expanse of sand and the undulating, golden waves looked beautiful. Somewhere in that vast wasteland was the key to the genie army.
He rubbed his chin with his right hand. The scruff from three days of no shaving felt pleasantly rough. Removing his backpack, he found the spyglass and extended it. The scene magnified in his eye, but it did not change. He had to hope that his sense of direction and his compass were still in good working order. It would be easy to get lost in a land without landmarks. Fortunately, he knew how to navigate by the heavens.
He flipped the lid on his compass and hoped that the oasis was just over the next dune. It would be nice to take a break during the heat of the day. The desert could hide miraculous treasures. It could also hide painful deaths, both quick and slow. The worst perpetrated by the men who came there.
He tromped and slid and whooshed down the dune. Keeping a solid footing wasn’t a possibility in the shifting sand. One just had to go with the movement and let it guide one’s own body. He liked to think of it as controlled chaos. By flowing with the footsteps rather than fighting them, he could remain upright. Any attempt to impose his will on this land, and he would fall.
He reached the trough of the dune and ascended the next one. From the top, he could see what he was looking for – the oasis. A small body of water surrounded by palm trees, there were sure to be animals. Men of the desert or explorers might also be camped there. Hopefully, everyone would observe the rules of the desert and the oasis.
July 4 #EssenceFest
He finished the trek to the oasis, each step measured to use the least amount of liquid. By keeping his movements slow and steady, he felt that he would be able to make it to the oasis without having to use up all of the water in his canteen. The sun was still a couple of hours away from its zenith, but the desert had been getting exponentially hotter with every passing moment.
As he came closer to the oasis, he could see that a large band of people had encamped around it. White tents were set up at least three deep. The tents varied in size, but none were smaller than a single room. Many looked like they could fifteen or twenty people comfortable. The sound of music rose from the center of the oasis, a strange syncopated beat that was accompanied by a high pitched string that was particularly favored in this part of the world.
The heat of the day would probably be passed more pleasantly than he had expected. Welcoming guests in the desert came in two forms – death and feasts. With the music, he felt sure this would more of the latter than the former. He walked down the pathway set up between the tents. It was wooden and lent an air of permanence to the settlement.
A man with a dark black beard and a large curved sword stood at an intersection blocking the way forward. The explorer was beginning to rethink his assumption of safety. If the group of nomads had claimed this oasis, a thing unheard of in the desert but not impossible as things were changing, trespassing might be met with grave consequences, literally… Well, except there would be not so much a grave as place where the desert would mummify whatever was left when the carrion eaters had finished with it. Admittedly, what was left wouldn’t be much.
Turning wasn’t an option when the man with the sword waved the explorer over. As expected, the guard didn’t speak English or German. What was surprising was that the man also did not speak any dialect of Arabic common to the region. The guard whistled and soon another man, who could be the first guard’s twin, came to replace the first guard. The explorer followed the guard to the largest tent in the gathering.
A small man with no visible hair came out and greeted the explorer in several languages. “Welcome to the Efreetal Essence Fest. Your needs will be provided for traveler. In the name of the Great Spirit, we grant you safety while celebrating with us.”
July 5 #frozen
“I am called Johan ibn Samar al Ffyad. Our patron will be hosting the coming festivities. You may change into suitable clothing and join the festivities when you are prepared.” He clapped his hands. A teenage boy in a white turban came forward and bowed. “Mohammed will lead you to the preparation tent.”
Familiar with the customs of the area, the explorer said, “I am called Peter ibn Adam al Sinclair. I appreciate and accept your patron’s hospitality. I only hope that my presence will do honor to all involved in the festivities.” Silently, Peter thought about the time he would lose, but ignoring the invitation would be an insult to the family that was in charge.
Peter bowed slightly to the teenage boy – not really necessary, but it sometimes helped to make a good impression on those who seemed to be the least in a societal hierarchy. Staying might be beneficial. The Efreet were longtime enemies of the Jinn. It could have something to do with the key.
The young man led Peter to a tent. Inside was a stark white robe, a changing screen and a big wooden box, inside of which was a large metal lock with a key in it – clearly a place to put his items. There was also a table, on top of which was a drink in a glass with ice cubes. Frozen water in the desert? This celebration might be more than Peter was ready for.
July 6 #EssenceFest
The Efreetal Essence Fest lasted three days, and Peter never met the patron. There was plenty of music, a snake charmer and food that would not be believed outside of the oasis. In the end, it seemed like the festival would have nothing to offer the explorer except for a nice couple of days’ diversion and some pleasant words. Filling his canteen and consulting his compass, Peter headed out of the complex of tents.
July 8 #lifechange
“Sir, Mister Sinclair, a moment!” The teen that had first directed Peter to his tent and showed him around the festival sight was running across the wooden sidewalks. “Mister Sinclair! Mister Sinclair!” His accent sounded like he was saying “seenclear,” which Peter didn’t really feel fit him.
The teen caught up with the explorer. “Mister Sinclair, I need a, um, life change. I want to come with you. I can be very useful.”
Peter stopped and turned toward the teen. “Sorry, son, I don’t need a cliché hanging around me.”
“I am not a cliché. I am Sefii ibn Hrakul al Karmai.”
“Look, kid, I am not in the market for a side kick. I have enough trouble trying to keep myself out of hot water without having to look after someone else,” said Peter.
“Then I can test the water and tell you when it is hot. I am very good at telling the temperature even without touching.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Peter sighed. “What about your family?”
“I have no family.”
“Of course you don’t,” said Peter.
“I live here at the whim of the patron. He could leave me in the desert anytime. If you do not take me with you, I will follow anyway. You will see how useful I can be.”
“Well, when you put it that way… But if the whole of the patron’s tribe comes down on us, I will give you back to them,” said Peter.
“No one even come look for us.”
“Well, go get your stuff,” said Peter.
“It’s all here.” Sefii held up a pitiful looking deflated sack. If they found anything worthwhile, at least they would have some way to carry it out of the desert.
Read about the origin of the Genie Army
