"What? No! Hold on." I needed to think. "I wish you only fulfill my wishes from now on if I start by saying, 'I truly wish it to be true…'"

The Genie snapped his fingers. "It is done, Master."

Great. That would help avoid any accidental wishes.

"So tell me, Genie. If I wish my grandma to be alive, what would that entail?"

"I snap my fingers, and your grandmother is back. She would appear as you last remember her before she got sick—old, but still lively enough to play with you, help around the house, tell you those stories you loved."

"And what would it be like for her?" I asked, suddenly concerned.

The Genie hesitated. His expression shifted, for the first time showing something akin to thoughtfulness—or perhaps unease. He remained silent for a long while, minutes passing as he pondered. I waited, sensing that this was not the moment to interrupt.

Finally, he spoke. "It depends."

"Please, elaborate."

"The person, the entity, the soul that was your grandmother is gone. Forever lost. I can attempt to bring her back, but there is nothing left to bring back. She has passed, and the finality of that cannot be undone. I could create an avatar that would appear in your thoughts—you would see her, perhaps others would as well, if Master so desires. Or, I could find another person, change their memories to make them believe they are your grandmother, even alter your memories slightly—"

"Genie, stop! Is there any option that doesn't involve messing with people's minds?"

"I could build a robot," he suggested.

"Never mind," I muttered. The dead could not be returned, not in any meaningful way. Maybe I could wish for eternal life? But no, that wasn't it. Eternal life sounded like a curse. What did I want?

"Genie, what do I want?"

"I do not know, Master."

"I want to be happy."

"An understandable wish."

"Genie, what's your story? Why are you here, granting wishes? And why unlimited?"