He landed and shrugged off the apprentice carpet salesman, who landed in a gooseberry bush and lay still, making faint whimpering noises. Philly looked down at him.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Heeeeeeeeeeeeeelp!”

Philly considered for a moment. “Yes,” he said, “you’re all right. Don’t go away, now.”

“Have they gone?” Kiss asked, when they were once more face to face.

“I think so,” Philly replied cautiously. “Can’t see them, at any rate.”

“You got any idea what they’re playing at?”

“Not really, no. Looks like the rug’s got the hots for the bomb, if I’m any judge.”

“How can a rug be in love with a bomb?”

“Dunno. Still, one of them’s colourful and flat and the other one’s dull grey and round, and they do say opposites attract.”

Kiss bit his lip. “I ought,” he said, “to go and defuse that bomb before it does any damage.”

“It’ll keep. Looks like the rug’s doing a pretty good job, anyhow.”

The genies shook their heads, as if to say that they wouldn’t mind fighting to the death over the destiny of the world if only the world would show a little respect.

“Right,” Philly said at last, “back to the job in hand. What say we start again from scratch?”

Kiss raised an eyebrow. “You sure?” he asked. “I had you ahead on points.”

“Did you?”

“Sure.” Kiss nodded. “I was giving you six for the head-butt, nine for the savage blow to the left temple with the giant redwood and seven for the combined half-nelson and stranglehold on the windpipe.”

“OK,” Philly replied dubiously, “but I wasn’t counting that because of the nutcracker hold you had on my right elbow at the same time.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Maybe you had other things on your mind. Anyhow, I put us more or less dead level, so…”

“That’s very sporting of you, Philly.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They drifted a little way apart, each looking for an opening. Somehow the aggro seemed to have gone out of the whole thing, and both genies started to feel just a trifle sheepish.

“This is the point,” suggested Kiss, putting the mutual feeling into words, “where one of us should say, ‘This is silly, there must be a better way of settling things’.”

“Doesn’t that come later?”

“Could do. Or we could do it now.”

“Get it over with, you mean?”

“We could skip it if you like,” Kiss replied accommodatingly. “After all, you’re trying to destroy the planet, I’m trying to save it, so there’s not all that much scope for creative bargaining. On the other hand…”

Something, Philly noticed, had gone in his back. He winced. “Quite,” he said.

“I mean, it’s a bit daft when you think about it.”

“Two intelligent beings…”

“Two supernatural beings…”

“And not just your average thing that goes bump in the night,” Philly added. “I mean, Force Twelves, not many of them to the pound avoirdupois, if you get my meaning.”

“Better things to do with our time, wouldn’t you say?”

“Exactly.”

Philly looked down at the world beneath him. From the vertiginous height they were presently occupying, he could see all the kingdoms of the Earth spread out before him like a giant map. Hmmm, he thought. Bloody untidy, with all those green and brown splodges and the blue stuff just slopping about anyhow. Not a straight line to be seen anywhere. On the other hand…

Kiss looked down at the world beneath him and thought of bottles, and all the time he’d had to spend in them over the years. No more earth, he thought, no more bottles. No more women. No more having to fetch and carry after snot-nosed mortals who happen to unscrew a cap.

“How about,” suggested Philly, picking his words carefully, “I just destroy a bit of it?”

“Which bit had you in mind?”

“Well…” Philly peered down through the swirling clouds. “How about Australia?” he said. “I mean, nobody’s going to miss Australia, are they?”

“Not immediately, certainly,” Kiss conceded. “But it’s a big place, Australia. And somebody’s got to be fond of it,” he added doubtfully.

“All right, then,” said Philly. “What would you say if I left you Queensland?”

Kiss pursed his lips. “Don’t know if that’d work, actually,” he said. “I mean, geography’s not my strong point. Could be that the other bits are holding it up or something.”

“All right then,” Philly replied. “How about Tasmania? That’s just an island, for pity’s sake.”

Kiss remembered something he’d heard once. “No man is an island,” he said sagely.

“Well, of course not,” Philly responded. “I don’t know about you, but I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of flat people with frilly edges entirely surrounded by water that I know to speak to.”

“I didn’t mean it literally,” Kiss replied. “What I was getting at is, you can’t really go knocking off hundreds of thousands of people, even if they are Australians. I think it’s something to do with divine justice.”

“Divine justice!” Philly sneered. “Don’t you give me divine justice. Fifty talents they fined me, and I was only doing ninety-five, top whack. And they made me blow into a little bag.”

Kiss frowned. “I’m not saying I hold with it,” he said. “All I’m saying is, it’s there. And—”

“And what?”

Kiss shrugged. “I’m not sure, really. Only it’s probably a good idea. On balance. In the long run. I mean, I think things tend to come out in the wash, in the fullness of time.”

“I see. And because of that, you’d begrudge me Tasmania?”

“Look, Philly, if it was up to me you could have Tasmania in — a paper bag with salt, vinegar and a lemon-scented napkin. But you’ve got to face facts. Destroying Tasmania would be…”

“Would be what?”

“…antisocial.” Kiss scooped up a handful of cloud and began picking at it. “Not a very nice thing to do. A bit unnecessary.”

Philly sighed. “All right,” he said. “Tell you what I’ll do. Scrub round Tasmania, how’d it be if I just destroyed a bit nobody wanted at all? Some desert or something? Now nobody could object to that, could they?”

Kiss scented a chink in the argument. “In that case,” he said quickly, “why bother at all? I mean, if nobody’s going to mind? Like, if it’s a desert anyway, surely you’d be wasting your time. And how could anyone tell the difference once you’d finished?”

Philly frowned. “I would,” he replied. “It’s a matter of principle, really. Something I promised myself a long time ago.”

Kiss stared. “A matter of principle?” he repeated incredulously.

“Yeah. What’s so funny about that?”

“Genies can’t have principles. If they could, what’d be the point of having humans?”

“To be honest with you, Kiss, old mate,” Philly said, with a slow smile, “I never could see the point in having humans. That’s why I decided, a long time ago, to do something about it.”

There was a long silence.

“Well,” said Kiss at last, “I suppose we’d better carry on with the fight, then.”

“Reckon so.”

“Pity, though.”

“It always is,” said Philly, and hit him with a railway station.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said Asaf, “but there’s something going on.”

“Hmm?”

The interruption, Asaf admitted to himself, was not entirely unwelcome, because he was starting to lose the sensation in his lower lip. He untangled himself from Jane, got up and walked over to the window.

“Not to worry,” he said, having looked. “It’s only two genies fighting.”

Jane scowled and started to button up her blouse. “They’re starting,” she said, “to get on my nerves.”

“Who?”

“The genies,” Jane replied. “I think it’s time I did something about it.”

The word “You?” froze on Asaf’s lips. True, his experience of female facial expressions was limited, since where he came from they tended to go around with curtains over their faces (and no bad thing too, he remembered, calling to mind some of the blind dates his brothers had fixed him up with in times gone by. Actually, the blind ones hadn’t been so bad; it was some of the deaf-mutes who made him cringe with embarrassment, even now); there is, however, a basic defence mechanism built into the male psyche that reacts quickly to flashing eyes and deep frowns, and sends men of all races and creeds dashing out of the house in search of an all-night florist.