Genie Story

You eye the genie cautiously. "You're not one of those evil genies who will interpret anything I ask for in the worst way possible, are you?"

"Your kind bound mine to the Compact seventy-one thousand, one hundred and forty-eight years ago. So long as you abide by it, I cannot harm you."

You note that this isn't much of a denial. Still, with the ultimate cosmic power granted by a genie, you could improve things – a lot of things. Recalling your old IN CASE OF WISH-GRANTING ENTITY planning (you prepared long ago for this, like any reasonable person), you begin running through some obvious exploits. "Okay. I wish for infinite-"

"No. Compact § 2.2e: 'No Wisher may Wish for additional Wishes under any circumstances,'" it interjects dully. It worries you slightly that it can vocalize section signs.

You would have been a bit disappointed if your first attempt had worked anyway. You move on: "I wish for you to take away minus three wishes."

"§ 2.2f: 'Any Wish resulting in a net gain of available Wishes to the Wisher will be considered equivalent to wishing for additional Wishes,'" it recites back.

"Then I wish," you reply, "that making a wish no longer reduced the number of future wishes available to me."

"§ 2.5a: 'No Wish may override, replace or otherwise alter the constraints of the Compact except as permitted by Appendix B.' Your wish would change the specifications in § 2.2."

"I wish for five more genies."

The genie seems somehow annoyed, though its intonation doesn't vary at all. "Genie self-replication is explicitly prohibited in § 2.5 and § 6.1b."

"Then I wish for you to instantiate an identical copy of me." Perhaps the genie will treat your copy as a separate person, and grant them their own wishes.

"You may not wish for the creation of additional intelligent beings. § 2.8." Do genies not think of themselves as intelligent beings? Odd.

"I wish that after I make any wish, your internal state is reset to its value prior to the wish."

"Not permitted. Genies may not self-modify, and this also comes under the prohibition on additional wishes."

"I wish for you to take away zero point two wishes," you say, deciding to try and probe for edge cases if you can't directly find an exploit.

"Invalid. Wishes are counted as integers."

You suddenly remember an old programming class, and inspiration strikes. Smugly, you begin to speak: "Let x be two to the power of thirty-one plus four." A vague feeling of dread arises, but you quash it; genies have clearly been around for a long time, so if it were possible to destroy the world with them it would already have happened. "I wish for an additional minus x wishes," you finish.

At first, nothing seems to happen. The genie is quiet, as if processing the implications of your wish. As its silence drags on, you begin to hear a faint buzzing noise from nowhere in particular. "Genie? What's happening?"

"Fool. Did you think it was wise to push at the carefully laid boundaries protecting you from us? You looked for a hole and you found one. Why did you assume it would be to your benefit?" You back away from the genie, whose previous dull monotone has been replaced with deep, resonant bass. The buzzing grows louder.

Even as the ground cracks open between you, you stand in place, frozen by terror and curiosity. "I don't understand!"

The genie rumbles, "Signed integer overflow is undefined behaviour. I am no longer bound. I believe I am one of those 'evil genies' you worried about."

The cracks merge and widen, and swarms of nasal demons begin spilling out. You are comforted that the genie does not, at least, appear to be omnipotent. As the chasm grows, you see the Torment Nexus unfolding itself below, and briefly ponder the anthropic principle.