The camera switches on. The scene soon resolves as the auto-focus does its thing. The backdrop is the smudgy grey-brown of the typical photographic studio backdrop. The camera decides that this is less interesting than the item in front. The focus finds a crude chair constructed from two-by-twos.

Voices are heard. “Why am I doing this?” asks a female voice.

A male voice, “Because you want a costume for the 'Gods and Demi-Gods Ball' that will be distinctive and get you noticed. There will dozens of Athenas, wearing helmets and/or owls on their shoulders, and Dianas, with bows and arrows, and while you are pretty, you're not going to qualify to pretend to be Aphrodite. And can you think of any other goddesses you could be without having to explain who you are meant to be every few minutes?”

The owner of the female voice appears in shot. She is wearing a short (mid-thigh) open-sided tunic dress that reveals nothing, except that the wearer has slim figure and no underwear. “The ball isn't for another week; why are we doing this now?”

“We are doing a dry run to make sure it works and to see how you like it. And before you ask, yes the cameras are necessary. It will give you a chance to see what happened and how you look. Then when we review the footage afterwards, you can ask for some adjustments, perhaps. Just sit in the chair and let me do my magic.”

“Is this going to take long?” she asked.

“Not really, but it'll take longer if you keep asking questions. So, sit down and let's get on with it; that way we can be finished in plenty of time for you to get to your lunch date.”

The young woman sits and rests her arms on the arm rests of the chair. A young man about two years her senior enters the shot, carrying something. The something looks like the petals of a large golden metal flower mounted on a ring.

“Lean forward a bit while I put this in place.” He opens up the ring and offers it up to the young woman's neck. He re-closes the ring around her neck. “Now, lean back a bit, while feed this bit into the slot in the chair” He folds up the two rearmost petals so that the back of the device can reach the back of the chair; they press lightly against her short red hair. There is the snick of a padlock being shut. The young man gives the collar of the device an experiment tug and appears satisfied that it is in place.

“Do I have to be sitting? And do you have to lock that in? Can't I just hold it for you?”

“You are sitting, because you might get dizzy enough to fall over during the process; and we wouldn't want that. And it is secured to the chair, because we need it to be perfectly steady and there is nowhere for you to hold it where your hands wouldn't be in the way.”

He pulls some wire pins from the back pocket of his jeans and uses one to pin the rear petals together. The tips of the petals meet above the middle of her head. The remaining pins are put on the arm-rest in front of her left hand. He raises the side petal and reaches for another pin, which she passes to him, then he goes round the chair to do the same with the petal the other side.

“Any last minute questions before we get started?”

“No, I don't think so.”

“Good, then we can get on with it.” He lifts the front petals into place and pins then to the side petals and each other. The young man leaves the view of the camera and quickly returns carrying a box and wheeling a vivarium with some snakes in it. He sets the box on the corner of the glass tank and withdraws a knife. “You ready?”

“Ok.”

The young man takes the knife and slides it into a slot in the middle of one of the side petals. From inside the headbox there is a small sound of protest then silence. He waits a few seconds, then picks another knife from the box. The second knife is inserted with some care, but produces no reaction. With more confidence he pulls ten more knives from the box inserting each into a slot in the side and rear petals of the headbox.

“Now for stage two,” he mutters to himself.

He folds the tips of the petals back to make a gap in the top of the box. He turns to the vivarium and with care, lifts a snake and transfers it to the headbox.

Another male voice asks, “Was that an adder?”

The young man, in the process of transferring a second snake, answers, “Yes, why?”

“Aren't they poisonous and endangered?”

“Technically, they are venomous, but they were milked of their venom earlier this morning. I borrowed them from Professor Lasky, she's using them to make the anti-venom, but is trying to work out how to make an artificial one. They'll be released into the wild after the Prof has finished studying this batch.” While he is talking, he moves another four snakes from the vivarium to the head box. “These one are babies, so not even that venomous.”

He closes the hole in the top of the box, pulls out all the knives and unpins the petals. This allows them to flop back to their original positions. The woman's face has taken on a greenish tinge, but more dramatically her red hair had been replaced by a scalp full of writhing snakes.

She tried to put her hands up to her head, but the petals of headbox got in the way.

The young man's face and hair seem to change colour and he is very still; unnaturally so.

“What's happened to him?” the young woman asks.

“I think he meant to turn you into Medusa, but without the power of petrification. But he seems to have got it a bit wrong; or possibly far too right. So he looked at you and has been turned to stone.”

She reaches towards the young man and tapped his wrist and got a plink sound. “That would explain why my scalp feels strange. How come I'm not turning you into stone too?”

“I'm looking at you through the camera, not directly. It's bit like that Greek hero who killed Medusa did with a mirrored shield, I guess.”

“And how long is this going to last? I've got classes on Monday.”

“How should I know? I'm surprised it worked at all; and it's been a lot more effective than we could have expected.”

“So, what now?”

“I don't know. He does the magical stuff; I'm just here to operate the camera.”

“Well you've got to do something, because he's a stone statue and I'm locked to this chair. You could, at least, find the key and unlock me.”

“Not likely! I know where you are and where you're looking. If I find the key and release you, I run a lot greater risk of being turned to stone myself; not to mention the possibility that you might decide to escape and go on a petrification spree. I think we need to keep this problem in this room if we possibly can.”

“Ok, I guess that makes sense, although I don't like it. What are you going to do? The longer you stay here the greater the risk you looking at me and being petrified, which will leave me totally stuck.”

“I'm looking stuff up on my phone. Google doesn't seem to have a straight answer about how to cure being turned to stone, other than D&D spells, specifically 'Greater Restoration' and 'Wish'; not much use really. Mythology does not appear to have an answer; it seems that Perseus, that's the guy that killed Medusa, used her head to petrify some greater enemy and then passed the head on to someone to guard. I suppose I could put your head in a bag to stop the effects from effecting anyone else, but that would not be much use to you,except as a stop-gap until we work out what to do.”

“What kind of bag?”

“I don't know! It might be that a veil of some sort would be enough, but I don't think I'm willing to take that chance at this stage. And if it didn't work you'd be here until you starved to death, surrounded by an ever growing collection of very life-like statues. I suppose I could set the box around your head back up, so that I'd be safe until we come up with a plan of action.”

“Alright, if you must, but I'm not happy about it.”

“You'll be less happy about it if I accidentally get petrified,” he points out.

“You could leave one of the side panels open, so it doesn't get stuffy in here, and be careful that my hair doesn't get you; I don't know how poisonous it is.”

A second young man comes into view, carefully studying the back wall until he reaches the chair, when he cautiously re-pins most of the box back in place and avoids being snapped at by the over-active snake hair.

“So what's the plan now?” she asks.

“Don't know, but I think we have two problems. First: how to get you back to normal. And Second how to get him back to normal. I assume he had a plan to return you to normal, so if we can de-petrify him, then he can de-Medusa you. That's why I was looking for a cure for petrification.”

“Any luck?”

“No, there is an interesting discussion on a writing forum that suggests a naiad's kiss, but it is writers' speculation and where do you find a naiad at this time of year?”

There is a stifled snort of amusement from the headbox.

“Hey, I think I've found something... yes... that looks promising. I don't think you're going to like it, though.”

“Go on! It's not like I have anything better to suggest.”

“It says here, that the blood from the severed head of the gorgon will reverse the effects of the petrification, it's in a reference from one of the references in the Wikipedia article about Medusa. But they seem a bit doubtful about the exact translation from the early Ancient Greek.”

“I get that the blood of your … what's the word … erm, cause of your problem, might help, at least on a metaphorical level, but do you think that it is meant to be taken literally?”

“We are talking mythology; the distance between the metaphor and the literal truth is much reduced.”

“So, what are the proposing to do?”

“Nothing at the moment, but this would seem to suggest that beheading you and using your blood on him will cure him of being a statue.”

“That doesn't seem good for me.”

“If he can use something like magic to give you snake hair, putting your head back on might be just as easy. I've seen him behead some girls for about an hour. He uses the head-chopper in the corner over there - er sorry, you can't see it at the moment.”

“Maybe, we should get back to thinking about the problem at hand, rather than speculating about what he might be doing beheading people. You were saying that the translation was disputed; what's the problem.”

“It can't really tell; it's in French. But it could be 'anointed with the blood from the freshly severed head of the Medusa' or 'Blood from a Medusa' or many other options in the spectrum of specificity in that range.”

“So, pricking my finger might do it?”

“I guess, it might, especially given that you are A medusa, not The Medusa and a new one and your hair is not all that venomous.”

“There doesn't seem to much to lose by trying, right?”

“Just drop or two of blood, I don't think we'll need to paint him with the stuff.”

“Have you got a knife or a needle or something like that.”

“Well, there are a dozen knives, how about I get one and hand it to you then guide your hand to the statue and you can draw a bit of blood. We'll see what happens. Would you like me to pop upstairs to find some plasters?”

“It sounds like a plan, but, maybe, wait on the plasters for the moment. I can't see what I'm doing, or what result it's producing. And maybe the process of petrification isn't as instant as it appeared, so things might be better done sooner.”

“Ok, I've got a knife. Here close your right hand and you'll have it. I'm going round to get your left hand so that I guide you his hand; if freshness is important, you might as well be in contact before making the cut.”

The young man takes a light hold of the girl's wrist and moves it to touch the statue's nearest hand. He then lets go, because he does not want to be accidentally stabbed. She brings her right hand over and digs the point into the side of a finger, then drops the knife and squeezes the cut she has made until a large drop of blood accumulates. She smears the blood onto the marble hand and up a finger, then asks, “Is that having an effect?”

The stone seems to have absorbed the blood. He passes this on to the young woman. He touches it and it feels slightly softer that the surrounding stone, but this softening has not spread beyond where the blood made contact.

“It seems to work a bit, but not enough. Maybe head-blood is really needed. If I cut my earlobe there should be enough blood to check whether that is doing better. Have you got something to catch the blood? It's not like I have an infinite supply of the stuff to waste.”

“I don't see anything here; I'll have to upstairs. I might as well get the plasters too.”

The young man disappears from view and sounds of a door opening and closing are heard, followed by stairs being ascended.

Not much happens until he returns. She fidgets in the seat and the snakes nearest the open side panel of the headbox occasionally come into view, as if exploring as far as they can reach.

“I found a clean dish that's small enough and the plasters, but I also had a thought, so I got a clean paintbrush so that your 'medusa' blood can be spread more efficiently. Sorry if it took so long.”

“It's ok,” she said, her voice conveying some attempt to hold back the sarcasm, to not annoy the only person likely to help get her out of the situation she finds herself in. “So the plan is: I get some blood from my earlobe (I hear they bleed easily) then you paint some on the statue and see what happens; I hope it produces a better result.”

He carefully hands her the small glass pot in one hand and the handle of the dropped knife in the other. She positions the pot under her ear on the open petal of the headbox and pokes the earlobe, using both hands to guide the blade. The blood drips into the dish for a dozen large drops before it slows, then stops after another two.

“I think that's all we're getting for the moment. I'll paint some on his other hand and see what happens. … Well, that's strange, but hopeful. The blood is being absorbed and the effect seems to be spreading, but not far. I think I may have enough to get a hand back to being flesh with a little left over. The effect seemed to be better than before, but it would use too much blood to get him back completely.”

The hand moves, as if stretching after a long sleep.

“It moved. That's positive.”

“Maybe, if you paint his ear with what you have left, we can talk to him and he can use his hand to signal back. You think it's worth a shot?”

“I guess it's worth a try. Here goes.” He dips the paintbrush in the last of blood and spreads over the stone ear and some of the surrounding hair. The ear loses the white vein that mars the pink marble at that point and the hair returns to black.

He addresses the statue. “Can you hear me? Move your hand if you can hear me and respond!”

After a few seconds, the hand moves up and down three times.

“I think that's good, you moved your hand up and down, can you make an 'ok' sign? So we know that it wasn't just a coincidence.”

Slowly the hand brings its thumb and forefinger together.

“That's good, because we need some help to get you back to normal, so you can get her back to normal.”

He spends a few minutes explaining to the statue what happened to make him a statue, what they had tried since and the things that he had learnt from his phone.

With communication limited to 'yes' (the ok, or thumbs up), 'no' (a thumbs down), 'don't know' (hand rocking) and the numbers zero to five (that number of fingers), it takes a while to find out that the statue reckons that his two mobile companions have got the right idea. It becomes obvious that there is probably not  enough blood to free the statue from his petrified state, unless something more drastic was attempted.

When the cameraman asks if there was any use to the suggestion he has found about using blood from the Medusa's freshly severed head, the hand gestures become more excited. The young woman protested that she did not like the idea of being beheaded; it seemed she was not particularly good with the idea of remaining a Medusa either.

There follows an extended twenty questions-style conversation, during which the young finds a square blade and a guide that will attach under the young woman's collar. They outline a plan as best they can and guess that they have one attempt to get everyone revived and back to normal. After weighing their best guess at the odds of success and the significant downsides of not even trying they all agree that this plan is the best they have and to go for it.

Most of the initial activity will be down to the only fully mobile member of the trio. To avoid mishap he practices the moves required in mime, before saying that he is ready. He fits the guide under the headbox, locates the square blade into the guide rails and re-closes the side petal of the headbox so that it will be evenly weighted when he comes to move it.

“I think I'm ready. Has anyone thought of a better idea?”

The statue's hand says, 'No.'  The young woman shackled to the chair, pauses a little longer, then says, “I wish I could, but I haven't. You had better get on with it.”

The young man takes a couple of deep breaths. He unlocks the padlock that blocked the headbox from releasing from the chair then rams the blade home in the guide. He feels some evident relief when he hears the young woman complain that having a blade shoved through her neck hurt; whether the relief is from the she did not scream her pain, or that she was still alive despite the blade through her neck was unclear.

He grabs the top of the headbox and shifts the headbox forward to release it from the chair. She makes a instinctive move to catch her head as it is moved, but manages to stop herself before it becomes a problem. He takes a step, raising the headbox so that it is above the head of the statue.

“Here goes nothing,” he announces.

He pulls that blade from the bottom of the headbox. The stump of a neck drops from the middle of the collar and begins to drip blood onto the statue.

For a second, nothing happens, then, as the blood absorbs into the stone, the texture and colour of the statue's face changes for be more skin-tone. The statue yells, “Get her head back on her body, NOW!”

The man holding the headbox turns and settles the protruding stump onto the stump sticking up between the woman's shoulders and has to rotate the headbox back to its original orientation.

From inside the headbox a heavy breath is taken. “That was the nastiest feeling I've ever had in my life; I don't want to do that again. How's our statue?”

“I'm fine,” says the former statue. “I think it has been nasty all round, be turned to stone is a very uncomfortable predicament, but being a flesh hand and a flesh ear on a statue of myself was worse.”

“So, what happens now? I think I'm still a Medusa.”

“The first thing to do is make you safe to be seen in public, then return the snakes to  Professor Lasky. After that I'll have think about what can be done to make this safer.”

Before she could object, he begins shoving knives into the headbox. With all twelve blades in place, he opens a side petal and tips the snakes into the vivarium. He soon removes the knives opens up the head box to show that she is back to normal and release the collar.

----------

At the 'Gods and Demi-Gods Ball' she is a hit as Medusa and wins a prize for having the most accurate costume. During the ball nobody is turned to stone, because, instead of adders, baby grass snakes were used to act as her hair.