And so, thinking to outsmart the terrible truth that men with all their material desires fulfilled live lives of misery, he made the following wish: “I wish that I might meet the love of my life, my perfect match, with whom I might happily live out my days on this earth.”

The djinn, its spectral features unreadable, acquiesced with a simple nod. The man’s other two wishes, for a healthful long life and to spare the life of his father who had been condemned to death, came true so far as the man could see, so he had no reason to doubt that the djinn had made good on its promise.

But as time wore on, the man realized that he had made a fatal mistake: he had failed to specify when or where he might meet the love of his life, or a sign by which he might know them. He was therefore wracked with unease upon every fist meeting, every spark, fearing that the perfect match for which he had wished might still be ahead of him.

They say that, from then on, he led a lonely life, and that he left no descendants to carry on his line despite his long and healthy life. Some say that in a final twist of fate he met his perfect match in a kindly nurse or a fellow sufferer on his deathbed. Some say that the love of his life was sent away out of fear, that there was no provision in the wish for this eventuality, the language being strictly conditional.

All agree that he stands as a sad example of the inability of man to control fate, even with infinite power available to do so.

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