THE MAGICIAN'S FALL

There once was The Magician.

Of course, you could never tell that's what he was judging by his clothes alone. That's why he was a magician. One of the most important tools of the trade was making one believe that such people are as ordinary as everyone else. To him in particular, it made the moment of pulling the rabbit out of the hat all the more satisfying. And to the audience, all the more breathtaking. In fact, you were to ask him, he would tell you that was what made a trick - a trick!

The allure of "magic" wasn't in those seemingly impossible feats that would force an individual to assume it was the work of some supernatural, unseen force. 'Twas the exact opposite! It was the knowledge that behind all the showmanship - all the "Abracadabras!", the gestures, the invocations to the spirits and the decks and decks of cards - there was nothing more than a human brain with a wish to baffle and amaze. A brain that through ingenuity alone seemingly surpassed the laws of physics, chemistry and even common sense.

The joy came not from trying to discover the solution to the fiendishly clever ruse, The Magician believed, but through the knowledge that the ruse itself was a success. The few seconds in which the impossible became possible: the rabbit was pulled out of the hat, as planned.

So, you can imagine the look on the Magician's face when, one day, those carefully constructed plans, that carefully constructed illusion, amounted to - nothing. When the hat was truly as empty as he had made his audience believe. When he had nothing to pull out of it. Nothing to show. Nothing to amaze with.

A day when - The Magician failed.

...Of course, it wasn't actually a rabbit in a hat that solidified his grand breakdown on the day in question. 'Twas far too mundane and tiresome - both for the audience and our protagonist.

No. What destroyed him was, in fact, something far more trivial.

But let us start at the beginning.

The Magician that once was, on the day in question (or, rather, as the day was slowly becoming the chilly dusk) held a show, as he always did. Over the years, he had gathered quite the following in the small, sleepy town that found itself in Grosstadt Valley. As such, there was always an audience.

There was always money.

It all began like it always did. With a simple trick.

"I shall need a volunteer!" he announced as he made his way to the centre of the old theater stage - no greetings or bows to his endearing fan-base. He was not there to be praised, after all. As years had gone by, his audience had come to understand as much, which would explain the fact that his grand arrival was met with silence, instead of an applause which would've perhaps been expected somewhere else. Manners be damned!

To be fair, it would be a fitting thought, as there were some who claimed The Magician was truly of the Devil. ("Some", unfortunately, being many - the Valley was not particularly known for its fair share of rationalism).

"I still need a volunteer!" The Magician pointed out once more after failing to receive a response the first time he requested. "Come now. Nobody has died... yet!" A few chuckles somewhere in the back seats. Deep down, he cringed from that line alone.

At last, a hand rose in the darkness. 'Twas thin. A child's hand, The Magician determined. He smiled, pointing in the young volunteer's direction. "As they say when I come from - first come, first serve! Get on up here!"

While the audience failed to meet The Magician's grand arrival with an equally grand applause, they didn't fail in giving one to the little girl with blue eyes which had stood from her seat and approached the stage as she was asked to do. She was eight - no, perhaps even nine years old. Her hair was white, oddly enough. The Magician was curious if perhaps the girl dyed her hair even at such a young age. Bad parenting? wondered.

And then he determined that he didn't truly care enough to keep wondering for long . The girl ascended onto the stage.

"What's your name, sweetie?" he approached her.

"Victoria."

"Victoria?"

She nodded. He, in turn, dramatically lifted his hands into the air.

"Like victory! I like it."

"That's what they always say." she shrugged, seemingly unimpressed.

"Should I have said something else?"

"Better not. They'd all have to be compliments and... It's a bit too early in the show for people to think you're a pedophile, isn't it?" The crowd laughed. The Magician found himself taken aback by the girl's frankness. He tried to remember if he'd ever met a nine-year old that'd talked to him like that. Or like that to anyone in general.

"Well, erm... Right!" he regained his composure as best he could. "Very well. Let us begin!" He figured he might as well get on with the trick.

From the side of the stage he carried over a small table and set it before the girl. He moved to the other side of it, facing the girl.

"Now-"

"Why couldn't you make it appear with magic?"

"-Huh?"

"The table. You had to carry it. Why couldn't you make it appear with magic?"

"Too much work." After only a few moments, The Magician grew to absolutely loathe this girl. "Now-"

"It would've been impressive, though."

"True. But this will be even more!"

"How do you know?"

"Because I do!"

"That's a lie. You're just guessing."

"I-"

"You should've made the table appear by magic."

"Well - sorry, sweetie - I didn't. Maybe I will in another show."

"You can do it now with another one. You do have magical powers, right?"

"I'll consider it. Right after this trick."

"Do it now!" she challenged him.

"No."

"Why n-"

He slammed his hand against the table. The girl jumped, as did the audience. "Because it isn't the time for that. Now it's time for the trick I've planned and selected as the first. You know what first means, don't you? First."

"Why? What's so special about it for it to be the first?" she asked him. "Why not another one? Like making a table appear?"

"Because that's the way I said it would be and that's the way it will be. It's the trick I picked you for. If you don't like it, then I can always pick someone else, can't I?"

Silence.

"Okay. You're the boss." The audience laughed with the charming girl once more.

The Magician sighed. He reached into the pocket of his worn-out coat and revealed a deck of cards. Gently setting it down on the table, he cleared his throat, preparing to give instructions. Instead, however:

"You think a card trick is better than a magical appearance trick?" The girl didn't even attempt to hide her disappointment.

"They can be the same. All that changes is the scale." Likewise, the annoyance in his voice was palpable.

"But it's the scale that makes it all the more amazing."

He chose to ignore her. "This is a deck of cards."

"I can see that, I'm not blind!"

"Maybe not everyone in the audience can."

"They're not blind, either." she stopped, thinking for a moment. "Well, except Mr. Herman, I guess. He's pretty blind." The Magician had never heard of a Mr. Herman, despite living in the town for years.

"Look - this is a deck of cards. I am merely introducing the object we'll be working with. Don't be a smartass about this."

"I'm not being a smartass."

"You're being a smartass." he concluded, putting his hand over a deck. "Now. This... is a deck of cards."

"How many times are you going to say that?"

"Oh, for fuck's s- You're right. Sorry. I'll get on with it."

"I heard that. You swore."

"I didn't."

"You did."

" 'Twas just your imagination, child!"

"I like how you keep switching between being eloquent and a common hick so fast! I really do! Is that a trick? Because it's a pretty cool trick." The audience didn't laugh at that one, even though she probably expected them to.

Without a word, the magician spread the cards over the table, face-down. "Pick a card. Any card."

"Can I inspect the deck first?"

"Why?"

"Well - I want to make sure you're not pulling any fast ones on me. I mean, there's a trick where the magician claims it's a free choice - but is actually making the volunteer choose from a deck where all the cards are the same. Then the magician switches the deck with another one before the volunteer puts it back. Without anyone noticing, of course. The other deck has 51 cards - this time, they're all different, of course. Just a normal deck of cards. The one card that is missing is the card that the deck before it was made of. So, the 52nd card is actually the card the volunteer is supposed to put in it. So, you can shuffle the deck around after the fact or whatever but it doesn't matter - the magician knows what the card is. All that's left is a little showmanship and there you go."

The Magician said nothing. He'd performed a trick similar to the one she'd just described years ago. It was part of his initial routine. A fairly standard illusion; common for amateurs.

"Is that the kind of trick you're doing here, Mr. Magician?"

"No." he simply said.

"Then, let me inspect the deck. We wouldn't want the audience to think you got away with something so cheap, would we?"

The Magician sighed once more, then did as he was told. He gathered up the spread cards and handed them over to the girl. She began inspecting them closely, just as she promised she would.

"One... two..."

"What are you doing?" The Magician asked her.

"Counting."

"What?"

"The cards."

"Why?"

"You keep asking the most obvious of questions. What do you think? I'm making sure there are fifty-two cards in the deck as you claim. Well - you didn't claim it, but that's what we'll all assume, so I won't let you get away with a trick like that. I'm also making sure that no cards are repeating. Oh- by the way, you wouldn't mind if I shuffled them all afterwards, would you?"

"Sure - go ahead. But why don't you just trust me when I tell you that it's a normal deck of freaking cards?"

"There goes Mr. Eloquent Magician, eh?" she chuckled. "It's your job to lie, right? So why should I trust you?"

"I don't-"

"Don't say that you don't. Sure, you may not lie entirely, but half-truths aren't too far from flat-out lies. If you want to amaze your audience, you need to truly work in impossible conditions. Not ones you set up and then present as impossible, but the ones the audience determines to be impossible and then presents it to you."

The Magician couldn't think of anything to say.

"Okay, I'm done." she announced a few minutes later, after finally shuffling the cards and setting the deck back onto the table.

"Can I begin now?"

"Almost. Take off your jacket and roll up your shirt sleeves. We can't have any other possible switcheroos, can we?"

The Magician was far too exhausted to question her at this point. Or to correct her on the fact that he was wearing a coat, not a jacket. He still hadn't gotten past his first trick of the evening.

Oh - evening. The sun was probably completely down at that point. Usually that happened around his third one.

"Whatever you say." He began rolling up his sleeves as his worn-out coat hit the ground, revealing the pale skin that covered his forearms. Having done as he was told, he simply asked: "Can I please begin with my trick?"

"And only now do you ask politely!"

"Would it have made any difference if I'd done so before?"

"No."

"Of course not." He spread the cards across the table once more, face-down. "Pick a card. Any card."

The girl did as she was instructed.

"Take a look at it-"

"I'm looking at it." she said.

"-memorize it, and put it back in the deck. Anywhere you want."

"Okay. I'm remembering it." she announced. "Uh-huh. Yeah. I'm remembering it."

"Will you hurry up already?"

"Hold on. I'm a child! These things take time!"

"How hard can it be to remember a-"

"Okay. I've done it. Also, it's actually 'memorize', Mr. Magician."

"What?"

"You were about to say 'how hard can it be to remember'. But remember is after the fact. The word you're looking for is 'memorize', Mr. Magician. That's not good at all for an eloquent man such as yourself."

"You said 'remember' yourself just a few seconds ago!"

"So? You didn't correct me. In fact, you proceeded to go on and use it yourself just a few seconds after that! As an adult, it should be your job to reprimand me! I'm a child!"

"Oh, shut up already!"

"No." she said simply. "I won't."

Neither of them were paying any attention to the audience to see what their reaction to their exchange was.

"Put the card back in the damn deck already."

"And if I don't?" she whispered.

"You'll regret it." he warned her.

"As will you, no doubt."

"Just do it."

"Not put it in the deck, you mean? Okay!"

In a mere flash, the card she had been holding in her hand became split in two uneven halves. The Magician barely even heard the sound of it ripping. But the girl did.

"Whoops." she merely said.

It was gone.

Just like that, the trick was gone. In just an instant, she'd taken it away from him. Made it disappear as if it was never there to begin with.

"Why...?" he asked, rolling down the sleeves of his shirt and picking up the coat he'd dropped just a few moments ago.

"Why not?"

Not answering the girl's question, The Magician picked up all the spread out cards, put them back into the pocket of his worn-out coat, calmly lifted up the table he had brought to the stage earlier, carried it to the side, somewhere in the darkness, and began to calmly walk back to the girl.

"Because... you weren't supposed to do that."

And without another sound from either of them, The Magician leapt forward, tightly grasping the blue-eyed girl's throat. In what he perceived was surely shock, she dropped the pieces of what was once his treasured card. As he choked the life out of her, he leaned closer to her.

"You shouldn't have shuffled the damn cards."

Crack.

His grip was so strong he'd probably broken the poor girl's neck in the process. He kept on squeezing for good measure, however. He had to be sure.

Upon dropping her lifeless body onto the cold wooden floor, he once again approached the center of the stage and faced his, now horrified, audience.

"Now, for my second trick," he said, "I'll make a table magically appear!"

THE END