Mad Magician 2 - part 2

Arthur was mildly shocked that he had found an assistant who was more compatible than his previous assistant had been, or was ever likely to be, even although the compatibility was converging. He was also puzzled that she did not immediately sense the way their auras complimented each other, to the point of being cautious about the opportunity offered.

Simon wondered what was going on. He was afraid that Arthur might be pulling the wool over his eyes, but could not detect any subterfuge. He also wondered at the almost instant rapport between these two people who seemed to have such different characters; Arthur the outgoing eccentric and Dot, almost shy and very normal with a small dash of curiosity. He was caught between the suspicion that he was being fooled and his desire to see how this, seemingly instant relationship would pan out.

Dot was confused about how she felt; she had never felt so safe since her father had die and never in such peril either; her spirit wanted to do this all day every day, but her intellect queried how such things might be possible and her rationality felt challenged. It felt irrational to want the impossible, even if the impossible had just been demonstrated.

The first to speak was Dot. "That seemed like a bit of fun, if you'll forgive the expression." Dot was aware that magicians take their art seriously. "But did you learn anything worth learning? And could you share it?"

Simon kept silent, hoping that the response would be enlightening. Arthur put a finger to his head, a posture that he felt aided his thought processes. "Getting you floating, Dot, has confirmed to me my initial opinion that there is unlikely to be a better person to be my assistant in the country, possibly the world. Now I have to get you to agree to be my assistant and help my dig myself out of the hole I find myself in."

"Don't they usually say 'if you're in a hole, stop digging'?"

"They do indeed Dot, but 'They' forget that downwards in not the only direction you can dig. I plan with your help to start digging along and up until I reach a place where I'm no longer in a hole. I'd like to be on a mountain top, but some interim goals need to be set before I can decided which mountain I want to climb."

"It all sounds a bit metaphorical, to me," was Dot's comment. "Have I got this right? You're in some kind of trouble that having the right assistant can help with. But is it really going to be worth my time accepting a job from a magician in trouble? I think I need to know what the trouble is before I take anything on."

Dot spotted the significant glances between Arthur and Simon, which confirmed that Simon was in on Arthur's problems or possibly part of them. She also detected Simon's it's-up-to-you shrug from which she concluded that getting Simon alone would not get her more information on the complication in Arthur's life.

"I'll make a bargain with you." He waited to see how Dot reacted to that. The neutrally curious look he received was between the offence he feared he might cause and the delight he hoped for. "What if, I put you through another illusion and if you come to the conclusion that being my assistant is not for you, then you go home and Me and Simon will have to do what we can to deal with my problems."

Dot made a non-committal noise that indicated that she wanted to hear the other part of the bargain before making any judgement.

"If, on the other hand, you find that you enjoy the trick and don't dismiss the possibility of being my assistant, I will tell you what kind of trouble I am in and how you can help. Then you get to decide if you accept the job and help me work through my problems or leave me to get on with my life, while you get on with yours."

"So, you're betting that I will feel better about this potential job if you try another of your illusions on me to the point that I will willingly help you out of this hole you're in." Dot took a look at Simon to see if she could make out anything of his thoughts on the matter. He was putting on a determinedly neutral expression, but something in the way he blinked when she looked at him gave her the impression that behind the facade he wanted to Arthur to have the chance of seeing the sunny uplands of life.

Simon's expression more than anything else swayed the decision to accept the bargain; some logical part of her brain opposed, but was overridden by a more fanciful part.

"What do you plan to do? Saw me in half?"

Arthur smiled. "Sawing you in half would have been ideal, but that was the thing that Charlie didn't find. So, I propose that I divide you in two parts at a different location."

"Wouldn't that be just sawing me in half but not at the waist?"

"I guess it would, except that when a person is divided in two at the place I'm thinking of, they use a different term. They call it 'decapitation.'"

Both Dot and Simon visibly swallowed. Dot swallowed because thinking of the word being applied to her was unnerving. Simon swallowed because he knew that the illusion being proposed was the cause of a lot of Arthur's 'trouble'.

"Shall I set it up and you can take a look at it, and make up your mind if you even want to attempt it?"

Simon spoke. "I'm not sure of the wisdom of this Arthur."

"I can see your point, Simon, but sometimes the bridge that landed you in trouble is the bridge you have to use to return." Dot heard this as metaphysical clap-trap, but Simon was more aware of the less indirect meaning.

Arthur collected some pieces from a pile by the nearest corner and quickly constructed a stock of red lacquered wood held off the floor by a similarly coloured pair of wooden side supports. He then fitted a steel plate into a batten of wood and tightened a few screws. The result was instantly recognisable as a head chopper.

"It's been a while since I last put it together. I suppose we'd better check that it works, before trying any magic with it. Dot would you mind going through to the bar and asking for something that we can chop, a food item would be best. Here's a tenner, that should cover it, if the landlord isn't feeling generous."

Simon was surprised to see Arthur produce the money from his pocket, as inmates were not permitted to carry money or cards. He wondered where it had come from,suspecting that his own pocket was most likely source.

When Dot had left on her mission, Simon asked, "Where did you get that money from?"

"Rest assured, I did not get it from your pocket, although I could have if I put my mind to it. No, I got that money as the result of a bet I had with the landlord the last time I was down here. It never ceases to amaze me that people will pay up on bar bets, even when they are convinced that you are cheating, which, naturally, I was. I think its something to do with not losing face in front of the onlookers and it was probably worth a ten to him for me to entertain the regulars. And he's going to get it back too."

Dot returned bearing four packets of skinny salami snacks. "I guess you'd rather I had got carrots or cucumbers or bananas, but the bloke behind the bar said that he could not leave the bar unattended and these were the things I could see that wouldn't make a mess. I told him to keep the change; I hope you don't mind."

Simon looked surprised, as Arthur assured Dot that he did not mind.

"Ok, let's unpack a couple to check this old thing still works."

"Why do we need two?" asked Dot. "surely, we only need the one for the neck hole."

"Nice thought, but you may have spotted the smaller hole directly under the neck hole, near the bottom. Some magician's call it the 'convincer', because something is put in there and gets chopped when the blade is supposedly goes through the volunteer's neck and this convinces the audience that the blade must have passed through the volunteer on its way to the item through that hole."

"Ok, but maybe we should take one of these and break it in two, because there are only four. Economise."

"An admirable sentiment, but you'll know that when a magician handles something more than obviously necessary, that object becomes suspicious; so sometimes economical has to be put on the back-burner, in favour of getting a solid performance. We could do economical now if you and Simon held onto the ends so that they don't fall on the floor, then we can have them as a snack after."

At Dot's pleased nod, Arthur called Simon over the hold the two ends of snack salami on one side of the head-chopper and had Dot holding the ends of the salami on the other. Arthur fitted the blade into the slot at the top of the chopper. "Ok? On three. Three!" He slammed the blade down so that it thudded into the top of the chopper and the edge of the blade was visible below the stock panel.

Simon and Dot were left holding two half salami sticks.

"That took a bit more effort than I was expecting. I guess they don't break as easily as cucumbers or carrots. Would you mind handing me one of those; I'm suddenly feeling a bit peckish. Have the other bit yourself."

Dot handed one of her pieces to Arthur who popped it into his mouth, then she put her remaining piece in her mouth and tried to savour the spiciness. She was about to chew when her mouth seemed a lot fuller, which caused her to cough out two pieces; the one she had put in and the one she had handed to Arthur.

"See! I knew we had a special connection. Alice wasn't tuned in to me well enough to do that."

"But why would I want to put something that's been in your mouth in mine?"

Arthur's expression move from elated to contrite. "I'm sorry. I guess you think that was a rotten trick to pull, but the point is that it worked."

"No," said Dot. "The point is you need to stop trying to prove to yourself that I'm the right person for this job, because you're already convinced, it seems. You need to start showing me that I want this job, before I get fed up and walk out."

"You've just proved what a valuable assistant you'd be, yet again. There's many a magician that went mad for want of an assistant willing to tell him the plain truth of reality."

Simon's thought that Arthur spoke his own truth, he kept himself.

"There you go, doing it again. If you don't give me a reason to stay, I'll call a cab and be catching the next train in about half an hour."

"Ok, point taken. I've been self-indulgent. Let's get this thing going." Arthur lifted the blade from the stock, leaning it against one of the legs. As he lifted the top sections from the stock, he asked, "Who wants to go first?"

Simon and Dot looked at each other, both were unwilling to go first. Dot was not totally happy that she could not explain her levitation and the chopper had just proved its worth against slender salami snacks, either it would do that to her neck, or it was a trick; and she was not convinced that this was going to be good for her. Simon, on the other hand was now convinced that the magic worked, but did not want to emulate the prince by getting his head cut off, even if it was temporary and did no lasting harm.

Seeing as nobody was volunteering to go first, Arthur chose. "Simon you're first. We'll show Dot that this thing does not cut your head off, then she can have a go too."

Simon opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but did not say anything. In the process of assessing and attempting to treat Arthur as a patient he had watched the recording of the incident many times; he know the shock that was expressed on the prince's face and did not wish to repeat that expression. He also knew that Arthur had a plan, without knowing what the plan was. He hoped that the shrinkage of Arthur's thumb flame meant that the magic was unlikely to take over, so Arthur remained in control. During their many sessions together, Simon had come to believe that Arthur's magic worked and developed an adversarial rapport; enough to feel that he would know if Arthur lied to him. Arthur had said he would not cut his head off; Simon believed his intent, but was less certain of his control on the delivery of such an intent. Was it worth the risk to help his patient?

Simon stepped forward, paused as his internal conflict raged. Then he made a decision and took another step forward. "Do I need to be on a particular side for this to work?"

"Not really," admitted Arthur, "but it is usual to have the catches that hold the stock in place facing the audience. So, if you could come round here, life would be less troublesome."

Dot was turning away to watch from the group of chairs, but Arthur said, "If you help with this, you'll get some idea of the easy nature of the duties of an assistant. You won't be expected to shift anything heavy, because if there is any of that kind of stuff, we'll get some people in to do the moving of heavy props. The first thing we need is a cushion for Simon to kneel on; we can't have him getting the knees of his suit dirty, because he is trying to help us. You'll find a selection of cushions over in the wicker basket over there; just pick one and bring it back."

While Dot went to the indicated wicker container, Simon whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "Are you sure this will be alright?"

"Of course, it'll be alright. You know what happened last time; no-one got hurt, but I plan for this time to be more controlled. And I think my time spend with you has enhanced my control, although you might have expected the reverse to be the case."

Dot returned holding a red velvet pillow, which she handed to Arthur. He asked her why she had chosen this pillow.

"It shouted that it was the right one, if you get what I'm saying. It was nice and plump and the right colour to go with the chopper itself. The blue one did not match and the day-glo green furry one just so wrong."

Arthur dropped the cushion on the floor behind the chopper and invited an evidently reluctant Simon to kneel on it. Simon knelt, using the chopper to help support him on the way down. Arthur put his hand on the back of Simon's neck and guided it into the cut-out in the lower stock. He then repositioned Simon's hands to hold the rearward feet of the chopper from the where they had been holding on the lower parts of the uprights. Arthur cited the risk that if the blade slipped, the ends of his fingers might be cut off. Simon thought that if the blade slipped, he would have bigger problems that missing a few fingers, but he still complied.

Arthur slid the two panels of the upper stock and leant over the top to lock the front panels together with hinged plates and pegs.

"Ok. Now the blade goes in. I'll not push it through for the moment; just rest it on the back of your neck. Dot, I think we'll need a basket to catch Simon's head in case it should come off; he's been nice to me over the last few months and I wouldn't want to hurt him by having his head hit the floor. There's no need to throw out the cushions, he'll want a nice soft landing.

While Simon was aware that this kind of talk was a normal part of head chopper routine, when combined with the weight of the blade resting on the back of his neck, it did not help calm or improve his resolve to see this through. Into his field of view was laid a basket containing a blue cushion and a fluorescent green fake-fur one.

Simon felt Arthur straddle his back.

"We need another of those salami sticks for the convincer," Simon heard Arthur say. He also felt Arthur lifting and lowering the blade, as if he was trying to divine the exact angle to make the best cut.

Dot's hand pushed the meat snack into Simon's view and through the hole at the base of the chopper's stock.

"Now that everything is ready, I'll count to three, then do it. One, two, three!"

There was a grunt of effort from Arthur who had lifted the blade's edge from the back of Simon's neck at 'two'.

Simon felt a strange sensation in his neck, almost pleasant, if it had not been for the catch it caused in his breath. He watched the end of the salami snack fall into to the basket and was thankful that he was not following it. He tried to focus some attention on what was happening where his neck and the blade should be intersecting, but the sensations were as slippery as wet soap. The nearest he got was the impression that his head was being held in place against the blade, while some other force tried to move it away; there was a similar set of forces working to move the base of his neck from the blade, countered by another trying to keep it there.

There was a clank as Arthur pulled the blade back out. "See! nothing to it; just a bit of courage and a skilled magician."

Simon reached round the stock to check his head, while Arthur pulled the locking pegs and freed the upper stock.

"Well that felt weird," commented Simon as he stood up from the cushion, again using the chopper as an aid.

"Of course it felt weird! It is not a common occurrence for a person to have a sheet of steel through their neck and have the leisure to contemplate the situation."

"It did not feel like I thought it would."

"Can you honestly tell me that you have thought about getting a steel plate through your neck for long enough to come up with a realistic expectation? I sincerely doubt it."

Dot joined in. "So, apart from weird, what did it feel like?"

Simon opened his mouth to describe what he had felt and found that he could not find the words. "Um, I don't know. I know it felt like nothing I've ever felt before, but what it felt like escapes me; I don't think I have anything to compare it to, except remotely and I think that would be misleading."

"I guess that makes some sort of sense. So let's go simpler. Did it hurt? Was it pleasant?" asked Dot.

"I'm not sure. Well, I'm sure that it did not hurt; there was no pain at all; I'm sure of that. But whether it was pleasant I can't really say." In answer to Dot's look that seemed to imply that that was a cop-out, he added, "I guess it's like Marmite; some people love it, some people hate it and some just don't care enough to bother. I think it may be something like an acquired taste, very subjective. You'd have to try it make up your own mind."

"That's exactly what I was going to suggest. Dot, it's your turn to try the head chopper. Give it a try and see if it's a taste you'd like to acquire!"

"Put like like that it sounds almost reasonable,  but I've seen it done, there'll be no surprise to it."

"It's not about the surprise. It's about the anticipation and the feelings it produces and whether you like them enough to consider taking on the job."

"That sounds even more reasonable. Why do I feel there's catch somewhere?" asked Dot.

"That's because, you're a sensible girl, sorry, young woman, and know that magicians don't always tell the exact truth."

"So which piece of what you've said is the lie?"

"I have not lied to you directly."

Dot looked to Simon, who said, "For what it's worth, I don't think that was a lie, but it did leave the possibility of lying by omission."

"Thank you. So, what aren't you telling me?"

"That would be telling," replied Arthur.

"I give up! So I kneel here and put my neck in here," Dot said as she took up the same position that Simon had been in several minutes before. "Let's get this over with, then I can get out of here without being made a liar. I said, I'd do this and I'll do it. If I'm not blown away, I'm going."

"Ok, let's get the stock in place and fastened. Do you want to help Simon?"

"I don't think so. It's not like you need me to fetch more cushion baskets is it."

"That's good Dot, you've got your hands in the right place. Are you ready?"

"Does it look like I've the option?"

"It may not look like it, but you could pull the pegs and open the stock and walk out, until the blade goes into the slot in the stock."

"And what's to stop me doing it even then?"

"The fact that unlike when I did it with Simon, this time the blade goes straight in no messing about."

"In that case maybe someone ought to put the salami through down there."

"Good point. Simon, would you do the honours and then I will put the blade in."

The moment the snack stick was in place, Arthur put the blade into the stock and shoved it down.

After a moment of pressure on the back of her neck, time slowed to a crawl for Dot. She felt the blade begin to pass through her neck. She had time to wonder if something had gone wrong, before the blade passed through one of her neck vertebrae, severing her spinal cord, shooting an intense pleasure in both directions; she felt pleasant in her brain and the echo of pleasure in her body, returning to be sensed by some route that she never did get an explanation for. Less than an extended second later, she felt the blade pass through her windpipe, but with such speed that she barely notice any effect on her breathing. She felt the blade burst out through the front of her neck and knew in that instant that her head was no longer connected to her body. For the next second, she watched as the salami broke off and began to fall to join the other salami piece in the cushioned basket. It took her that time to notice that unlike in Simon's case, her head was following the salami in its downward trajectory. She tried to scream, but all she could manage was a squeak.

Dot knew something was not right, but she also felt that whatever it was it not wrong either. She cudgelled her brain for answers, only to conclude for answers, you need questions. At the realisation she discovered a queue of questions to which she did not have answers and a few that she did have answers for. Why could she smell spicy salami? Because her head was in a basket with two half sticks. Why was her head in the basket? Because Arthur had cut it of and it had been caught in the basket. Why had Arthur cut off her head? He was trying to impress her that a magician's assistant would be a career for her. Was she impressed by this? She was impressed that he had done it, but unimpressed that he had done it to her. Had it hurt? No, the actual cutting off of her head had not hurt after a scratch-like feeling at the back of her neck, but her knees were beginning to get uncomfortable from kneeling on the cushion.

At this point she reached the limits of the knowledge about what had just happened to her. If her head had been sliced off, how could she feel her knees? Why was she not dead? Would she have her head reunited with her body? Could she speak? Why had she agreed to put her head in the head chopper in the first place? What happens next?

She formulated a question and then was much relieved that it come out of her mouth, even if the fur of the green cushion tickled her lips. "What just happened?"

Dot heard a bit of rustling, then Arthur's face came into view. "I cut your head off," he stated as if it was not only a grammatically correct sentence, but a sentence that you might say to someone and expect some response.

"You cut my head off? I think I had worked that bit out. Why do you seem to think that this is going to get me to become your assistant?"

"I thought that you might think it was fun and something unique to do. And I demonstrated that there was no pain involved."

"Well, you're wrong on that account, I felt something like a scratch when the blade started to pass through my neck."

"I'm sorry about that; I truly meant that it be painless. I had better check the blade to see if that caused the pain." The magician rose from his stooped position and pulled the blade from the stock. "Simon maybe you could set up that display table in the corner there and move Dorothy's head to it and then help her body into the chair, then we can discuss this like civilised people."

Simon picked up the small table top on a thin metal leg and found the tripod at the bottom, which he expanded so that the table would be stable once placed. "Where do you want this?" he asked.

Arthur said that it should be set up beside Dot's chair, then Dot's head should be set on the small plinth on the table's top. "It will be a lot easier on Dot if you move her head before body. Her body would probably fall off the chair trying to compensate for the motion of her head, but while she is on her hands and knees, there is little risk of that happening."

Simon was concerned about lifting a young woman's head from a basket; he did not want to cause her discomfort or disorientation. He decided that he would pick Dot up from behind with his palms under the sides of her jaw and his fingers nearly meeting at her chin. He reasoned that it would not obstruct Dot's view and give a suitable amount of grip. As he implemented this plan he let Dot know what the plan was, so as not to startle her or have her make any moves that might lead to him dropping her.

As they arrived at the table, they saw the plinth. It was a metal circle supported on three legs, with a low rim round the edge. "So, I rest the stump of her neck on this, right?"

"Yes," replied the magician, seeming a little distracted by his examination of the blade from the chopper. "If Dot finds that it's the wrong angle we can adjust the legs later." He returned to his checking of the blade; the information that the cut had caused any pain at all dis-quietened him, as he had expected painlessness.

Simon settled Dot's neck into the tray and waited a moment to check that she remained stable. He went to guide her body to the chair.

Being guided headless was difficult, without the usual stability sensing housed in her inner ear, Dot had no idea if she was upright or leaning at an angle. The only cues she had were the angle of the floor under her feet, some limited sense of which way was down and Simon's grip on her upper arm. With a couple of stumbles along the way, during which she discovered that sometimes it helped if she closed her eyes, she arrived at the chair and used her hands to guide herself to being seated.

Simon sat back on his own seat, then Arthur came over to sit down too.

"Well, I think that's that little mystery solved," he said with every indication of satisfaction.

"What mystery is that?" asked Simon. He saw Dot's survival and moderately good spirits as a mystery, as well as how he had been talked into not only permitting it, but organising it.

"The mystery of why Dot felt some pain when I cut her head off."

"Surely, pain is an inevitable consequence of cutting something off," Simon offered.

"Not when magic is involved, but I think I have an explanation."

"Ok?" said Dot, not entirely sure that she was interested, because she had more important issues to discuss.

"It's because we've been using those spicy salami sticks to show that the blade really goes where it appears to go. I treated it like I was using carrot or cucumber, so I hadn't cleaned the blade properly." The magician paused as if that explained everything.

"So what?" asked Dot.

"The juices from the salami contained a little capsicum and being oily instead of water-based, my cleaning of the blade spread the capsicum on the blade instead of removing it. So even though the actual cutting was painless, a smidgeon of capsicum got in causing a reaction, which you interpreted as pain. Even I've learnt something here."

"Ok, that's your little mystery solved," said Dot, "But what about my bigger mystery?" She made some movements with her arms, which she hoped would point at the absence of head on her body, and then tried waving a hand through where she felt her head should be.

"That's no mystery," stated Arthur. "You have been beheaded. Your body is there and your head is there."

"But they are disconnected, so how come I'm alive and talking. And please don't say magic, or I might decide to see how much control I have of my body to come over there and strangle you."

"The main point of the magic in this case and in similar things is to maintain the connection between your parts, while allowing those parts to come apart. If you lean your body towards your head, you will see that the cut area appears to be covered by skin. I know it doesn't match your skin tone, but it will take me a little time to adjust it; that was my previous assistant's skin-tone. Under that skin on both sides of the cut, you are connected; the air you breath in and out passes from one side of the gap to the other, as does your blood and other bodily fluids, and your nerve impulses between your brain and body. If that did not happen, you would soon die of oxygen starvation of your brain and you'd have a heart attack, because of the sudden lack of cerebral regulation."

"So, you're saying that the magic is keeping me alive? And that without the magic I would be over there pumping the last squirts of my blood on the floor?"

"Yes and no."

"And that means?" prompted Dot.

"Yes, the magic is keeping you alive; at least until we reattach your head, when keeping yourself alive becomes your responsibility again. But, no, without the magic you would not be dead, because the blade is not sharp enough to cut you, so you might have a bruise where the blade was pushed against your neck and another one where your neck was pushed against the stock, but other than that you would be ok."

"Ok, so how long can I remain headless? No, I think what I really want to know is, how long must I remain headless? or bodiless? or whatever?"

"I can, of course, put your head back immediately, especially if you've decided that you want to go home. But if you would like to hear more I think discussing this with your head separate would be beneficial."

"What's that mean? And beneficial to who?" asked Dot.

"It means, in a nutshell, that I can put you head back any time you ask, but I would feel better and I think you'll feel better about it, if we wait until you have made a decision, before I do it."

"Ok. I don't know why I'm doing this, but I'm going listen to your troubles, before making a decision."

"Thank you. Now where to start?" began the magician. He looked over to Simon, to see if his psychiatrist had any guidance to offer.

Simon shrugged; he was interested to see how his patient explained his situation. He considered that this session might be the turning point in Arthur's eventual return to the world outside the institution.

"I'd like to start by telling you that everything we have told you about my career before last year is true. I was moderately successful and I had an assistant who was, unfortunately, killed a few weeks before an important gig. I did not have enough time to find a new assistant, so I put together a solo act with some audience participation.

"Unfortunately, the audience member was the prince. He would make an amazing assistant to some magician. Because I had been building up an excess of magic in the weeks since my assistant's death and the prince got most of it, when I cut his head off."

"I think I saw something about that on the internet," commented Dot, "But wasn't that guy called Arturo?"

"That was my stage name; when I chose it seemed cool and little mysterious. I plan to return under my real name. Well, back to the story.

"Even though I put the prince's head back on and he said that he enjoyed the experience, they hauled me away, as a danger to the public. I feel that at the time it was an over-reaction, but after nearly a year of not doing much magic, the magic has been building up to dangerous levels. Because they could not imprison me, because I had broken no laws, other than a few of the laws of physics, they put me in a mental institution. And Simon here is the lead psychiatrist on my case.

"At the nut-house I don't get to do much magic, so the magical build up has become dangerous and destructive when it discharges without my control; setting fire to things and diverting lightning to hit things, that kind of thing.

"I managed to persuade Simon that this was a problem and the only solution I knew of was for me to get an assistant, so that I could moderate the levels of magic I have to control."

Dot pondered this for nearly a minute. "Ok, I think I understand. You are locked away in a mental institution, because you are accumulating too much unused magic and it is coming out in ways that might be a danger to the public."

"Yes, in a nutshell." said Arthur.

Dot did her best to turn her head enough to look at Simon. "In short, we can't release him until his magic is under control, but as I understand it, because we don't allow him to do magic, his control is becoming worse."

"So how does having an assistant help?" Dot felt that this was a reasonable question.

"Well, as a magician I bring magic into the world, and if I'm not to accumulate too much magic for me to control, I need somebody about to drain the magic away through; an assistant is someone who can do that, and you are an assistant; you can do that."

"But won't that mean I end up with a build up of magic?"

"No, because you have the power to dissipate the magic harmlessly. I've tried to think of an analogy and this was the best I could come up with. I am like a rechargeable battery being constantly charged, if that power isn't used, I will explode or catch fire, or whatever overcharged batteries do. I need to be connect to a light bulb, that's you, who can take the power and do something less harmful with the power."

"I think I get it. But why can't just any old person be the lightbulb to your battery?"

"Because they would burn out too quickly, if we're going to keep up this analogy."

"So, you need a lightbulb that is suited to your power output?"

"I never got as far as thinking of it that way, but that's exactly what I need."

"So, in a nutshell, you need me as someone who can handle your magic output, so that your magic isn't a danger to the public and Simon can release you from the asylum."

Both Simon and Arthur nodded their agreement with Dot's summary of the situation.

"And how will it effect me?"

Simon raised an eyebrow in Arthur's direction.

"It won't effect you much, beyond being a part of the act, once I am released. This is because, to return to the battery and lightbulb analogy, all you will do is shine brighter, but you won't burn out."

"How do you know I won't burn out?" Dot challenged.

She heard Simon mutter under his breath, "Fair question."

"The same way I know about a photograph I have not seen; the other photo from Donna's Hen night. And the same way I know that phrase 'unless you want to chicken out'. Those things are in you; along with your ability to be a fantastic assistant to me."

"Let's assume I say 'yes'; what happens before you get released? And how long is that likely to take?"

"Most of that is out of my hands and in Simon's. We would have to negotiate something, because I suspect I'm unlikely to show much improvement, if I can't rehearse with you, although I think talking to you on the phone helped a little. My guess would be that it might take several months; with extra assessments and so non-sense. Any ideas, Simon?"

"Well, it'll take a few weeks to organise that Dorothy can visit for rehearsals, even if I have to call them 'therapy sessions with an external specialist'. Then it will be at least a couple more months, to arrange to your assessment for release, after that. Arthur show me your thumb."

Dot did not know what this meant, until Arthur clicked his fingers and displayed a small flame on his upraised thumb.

"Is it my imagination or is the flame smaller than usual?" asked Simon.

"I think it is a bit smaller. And I'm guessing that I won't be able to do the 'exorcist manoeuvre' for a few days."

"What's that about?" asked Dot.

"The flame on the thumb and turning my head through 360 degrees, were about the only magic I was allowed to do."

"Oh. Ok, so what happens now?"

"Well, Simon and I go back to the institute and discuss things, depending what you final answer is. If it is 'yes', then we get in touch with you about how things will proceed from there; rehearsal arrangements, visiting (I'm sure they'll want to do more background checks on you), travel arrangements that sort of thing. If your answer is 'no' you go home and none of this is your problem any more."

"And what do I do for money, while that is being sorted out?"

"I think I could pay you something, but I would want you go to my storage place and arrange for all the kit to be checked over; having it sit idle can lead to things seizing up or becoming brittle and such like. While you're there you could check out some of the performances we had videoed and generally become familiar with what you'll be doing."

"Ok, my answer is yes."

"In that case, I think the first things we need to do is arrange for Dot to have the key to my storage and my van, so that she can bring props as soon as we can organise rehearsals."

"Aren't you forgetting something more immediate than that?" queried Dot, pointing at the space where her head should have been with greater accuracy than before.

"Sorry, I should have remembered. That's another duty of a magician's assistant; to keep his feet on the ground."

Arthur stood and stepped to the front of the side-table. Gently lifted Dot's head from her plinth, by cradling her jaw. He placed her head on the stump of her neck and stepped back. Dot felt that having her head back in place was profoundly right and experience a very pleasant sensation that had nothing to do with any of her senses.

"It feels good to have my head back where it belongs," she commented.

"I know," said Arthur. "that was the reason I did not want to put your head back before you had decided one way or the other. I didn't want you to feel that you had been swayed by that sensation."

"You go and have lunch, while Simon and I clear up so Charlie can collect the stuff this afternoon. I can recommend the toad in the hole; it's not as bad as it sounds. We'll be in touch."

Dot followed Arthur's recommendation and enjoyed the lunch. As she walked back to the bed and breakfast place, she felt like she was walking on air, but did not notice that she was.