My little sister, Clare, has always been adventurous, but her latest escapade frightened me. While being at a magic show seemed to be an innocuous place to be, my sister found some trouble to be in and then waved it down. I knew that what she did, or had done to her, had to be completely safe or the magician would not have called for a volunteer, instead of doing it with one of his six assistants and dancers, but it still did not stop me worrying.

The first part of the show had been about what I expected; a couple of big illusions (this time a sawing in half and an assistant impaled on a sword), some bloke from the audience put into a guillotine and screaming when the blade was dropped, all padded out with some humorous chat and sleight of hand.

The magician announced that he would need a volunteer to demonstrate his next illusion. Dotted around the theatre several women, had stood to be noticed; Clare was one of them, and, even with my brother-spectacles on, probably the prettiest. She was also waving with an energy that threatened to have my eye out. The magician could not help spotting her. He asked how old she was.

“I'm eighteen,” she said, which was untrue by several months, but she looks about another year older, thanks to an early growth spurt making her the envy of her school friends in the chest department.

Maybe I should have exposed her lie, but at that point I was thinking, 'She's nearly eighteen and what harm can it do?'

“Good,” said the magician, “because you need to be at least eighteen to take part. Why don't you come on up and bring your handsome boyfriend.”

Clare was quick to tell him that I was her big brother, sent along to make sure she did not have any fun.

“So, someone responsible and trusted by your parents. Bring him along anyway; I will need a little help with a few things.”

I did not particularly want to be up on the stage, but I did not want rain on Clare's parade. Not that I got much choice; Clare's grip on my wrist unbreakable.

Once on the stage we were introduced to the audience and swore that we did not know the magician. During this chat, he let slip that Clare was dressed perfectly for what he had planned, which was a flat shoes, bare legs, a short skirt (mid-thigh, if tugged down fully) and a short t-shirt that did not reach her skirt or her elbows.

The curtains swished open behind us. I heard what I sensed was a groan of disappointment from the audience. Instead of revealing something dramatic or recognisable, there was a low bench; about knee-high and wide enough for a person to sit on, actually a little over shoulder-width. Around the back and sides was a low wall that would be at waist height of someone sitting on the bench. He suggested that Clare have a seat and pointed at the bench. Clare sat; it was obvious to all that sitting there was where the magic was going to happen.

A stagehand brought out an arch of painted wood, which the magician helped to attach to the sides of the bench. The sides rose straight up to a little above Clare's shoulders and then sloped to meet an inch above her head. While he did this he seemed to muttering words of reassurance or instruction to my sister; I could not hear the words properly, because the magician had moved me aside to allow the preparation of what was to follow.

The stagehand handed over another wooden piece and left the stage to collect more pieces. The piece was as wide and deep as the rear wall of the bench, with a pair of large notches near the middle. The magician invited Clare to raise her skirt so that the stock could be fitted over her thighs without the skirt being trapped. I was called over to help put this item in place; it clipped to the end wall. I queried why this was necessary and got told that the trick relied on Clare being in a particular position and if she moved about too much she could get hurt. This information did not seem to worry Clare; I guess she thought that is was for the audience's benefit, to make the illusion seem more dangerous than it really was. I was more worried, because I could see in the wings a rack with six swords hanging from it.

Two panels were brought out and the magician helped the stage hand to fit one to the back of the arch, while I asked Clare if she really wanted to go through with this. She assured me that, “It's just a bit of fun. They wouldn't dare hurt a paying customer; and definitely not in front of all these witnesses.”

I did not get to think of a counter-argument, because I was enlisted to fit the front panel, hiding my sister from view from mid thigh upward. I noted that on the panel was pictured a female outline that  matched Clare's pose very well, but depicted the dancer that seemed to be the magician's main assistant.

While we clipped the front panel into place the stage hand brought forward the rack of swords. I heard some gasps form the auditorium as they worked out what the magician had planned.

The magician opened a small square door in the gable of the cabinet. “How are things so far?” he asked.

“Ok; why? I don't think anything has happened to me, yet.”

“Nothing has happened,yet. I just checking in to see that you are comfortable and let the audience know that you have not escaped and been replaced by a pair of fake legs.” A few audience members giggled.

“Comfortable might be stretching it, but that's only because it was dark in here before you opened the hatch and I can't move about much.”

“So, you'd be alright if I closed the door again and thrust six swords through the box you are currently in? It'll only be for a couple of minutes, then I'll open things up to show how it was done.”

“I hope you don't expect me to do anything special, because I don't have much room to do anything in here.”

“Just sit straight and still and everything will go fine.” Before Clare could say anything else, the magician shut the door.

The magician strode to the sword rack, pulled out a pair of swords and handed them to me. “Check those while I use these other four. I did say that I that we'd be quick. A second pair of swords was pulled from the rack. He went to stand behind the cabinet we had built round Clare and located the tips of the swords into a couple of slots at a level that matched the tummy on the illustration on the front. Both sword handles were spread far apart so that it appeared that they would pass diagonally through the box and come out on the other side of Clare's body. The magician called to Clare, “If you feel anything that hurts, please scream, because it means that this is going wrong.”

I heard Clare respond with a worried 'Ok', but I doubt that the audience did. With his arms spread wide the magician began to slide the swords into the box after about twenty seconds the tips started to poke from slots in the front panel. When the audience started to react to the points sticking out he pushed the swords the rest of the way, then went to collect the remaining two swords on the stand. These soon were sticking through box at chest level. The audience clapped some more.

“Are those swords real?” the magician asked me.

I must have been in some awe-struck horror trance, because I had forgotten to do more than hold the swords that I had been handed. I could certainly feel that they were heavy. I placed one into the magician's waiting hand and tried tapping the other on the stage floor, in case it retracted or folded; it did not.

The magician shoved the sword through a slot in the side of the box and out the other side. This meant that the sword was going through about an inch below the lower pair of blades. The second sword was then taken from my hand, carried to the other side of the box, where it was slide through an inch or two above the upper pair of crossed swords. The audience seemed to like that too.

As the applause faded, he opened the hatch that showed Clare's face. “How are you, Clare?”

“I think I'm fine.” She saw my worried face and tried to throw a smile in my direction. “I must be fine.” She looked down inside the box. “Yes, I'm fine. None of those swords touched me.”

“Shall we show the audience what happened?”

“You're the magician; if you want this kept a secret, I'll keep the secret,” she offered.

“No, I did promise to reveal this one. So, you sit tight, while your brother and I remove the front so that everyone can see how it was done.”

I stepped forward and undid the catches that I had done up several minutes before. “On the count of three, we will pull the front forward and then I will let go and you can hold on to the front, while I explain what people are seeing.”

When the panel had been removed the swords from the back were now pointing forward instead of diagonally. “The swords that I put into the back of the cabinet are a lot more flexible than the two I gave to Dean to inspect.” He went round the back and pulled on the lower left sword handle and the lower left sword blade retracted into the box. He raise the sword he had extracted and bent it into a semicircle, and then released it, so it went straight again. “In the slots at back here are guides that bend the sword from going diagonally to going forward to the corresponding slot in the front. Of course the ruse would have been obvious if I pushed each sword in individually, because it would be clear that the point was coming out of the wrong hole in the front; that's why the swords went in in pairs. Well, that and it's, of course a bit more dramatic, too.”

He paused having pulled the remaining swords out and hung them in the rack. “The two swords that I gave to Dean to inspect where real, except for being blunt (no point in taking any unnecessary risks). But these two, as you can see, went through in front of Clare; in fact barely half an inch behind the front panel.” He pulled out the sword on the side opposite me and asked me to pull out the sword on my side, which he collected and re-racked.

“So, that's how that variant of the sword box illusion is done. I would like you to show your appreciation of my lovely volunteer, Clare, and her helpful brother, Dean.”

The cheering and stamping of feet took me by surprise. As the audience quietened, the magician, said, “Of course, having shown you a small secret, I am going to have to show you something that will mystify you all, by being similar, but not do-able by the method I have just given away.”

The audience cheered their anticipation of this.

“Usually my main assistant would come and take Clare's place, but it doesn't look like she is ready.” The audience groaned, but the magician had a suggestion. “Maybe, if Clare is willing, we can do the next illusion with Clare, instead.” The audience cheered their approval of this suggestion.

Clare seemed willing and was looking for the catches on the board that held her thighs in place. “What would I have to do? Because I don't feel that I did anything to deserve the applause I got for the last thing.”

“You were getting the applause for being brave enough to be part of such an illusion. And after the next one you will seem even braver, but other than sitting straight and in place, you don't have to do anything else. We'll change the panels on the cabinet and do the illusion under your brother's watchful eye and then you'll deserve even more applause and perhaps a medal.”

“Ok, I'll do it!”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “He said he would usually do this with his chief assistant, which probably means there's some tricky bits.”

“He said that I didn't need to do anything.” She turned to the magician. “I want to do this; shall we get on with this before your assistant comes along to take my place.”

At a signal, the stage hand brought on another two panels and helped the magician replace the rear panel, before taking the previous two panels away. While I helped fit the front panel, the magician apologised that this one would not allow Clare to see what happened and promised to make it up to her later. The stage hand reappeared with a new rack of blades and took the other one away. These blades did not look like swords, and more like the dividers that he had used when sawing his assistant in half; rectangular metal with a painted wooden handle on one edge.

“Okay, Dean, take the blades from the rack, one at a time, starting at this end, give each a quick check, then hand them to me.”

I went to the rack and picked up the first blade by the handle and gave the metal plate a slap to check that it was good, before passing it to the magician. I was surprised and concerned to see that he was fitting it into a slot in the front of the cabinet; this slot went from near the top left corner of the cabinet to a couple of inches short of the centre of the panel. While I am aware that looks can be deceptive, with the blade being narrower than the handle and the outline on the front suggesting that the blade should have been pushed through Clare's shoulder and upper chest, I could not see how she could have avoided the blade. I heard a sharp intake of breath as the blade was shoved into the slot, but this was soon followed by a sigh, that seemed to have nothing to do with pain.

The magician put out his hand for the second blade, which I handed over. While I picked up the next blade, the magician pushed the second blade into the slot that lined up with the one for the first blade, leaving a two inch gap between the ends of the handles. I noted that overhang on the blade I was holding was no more than an inch, so the gap between blades could not be more than four inches; a dimension I was sure Clare could not fit through.

The magician turned the cabinet side on to the audience, for which Clare had to lift her feet. He wriggled the blades back and forth, which demonstrated that the blade tip emerging from the back was attached to the handle at the front; and also caused Clare to giggle ( a sound I recognised, because tickling was one of the weapons in my arsenal to control a rebellious sister when we were younger). I was marginally less worried about Clare, but was still concerned by the number of blades remaining on the rack and how she might be unable to avoid those.

The third blade went in mirroring the first and the fourth, the second. This was a minor relief as that did not seem to add to her peril much, as there was still the too narrow gap where the blades did not meet at the centre. Blade five was about half as wide again as the previous four and as much heavier too. I handed it over and went to fetch blade six from the rack. When I turned back, the magician was sliding it vertically into the gap between the previous four blades and into the only space I thought Clare could safely be. I was tempted to try wrestling it out of his hand before he could push it through, but instead watch slack-jawed while he pushed it into place. I was only mildly reassured to hear a shocked squeak from the box.

The blade I was holding was tugged from my grasp and I stepped back to pick up the last one. These two were longer than the previous five, but as narrow as the four first blades. The magician changed his position so that he was not lining the blade up with a slot in the front, but one in the side at hip level; in fact just above the original rear and side walls of the seat. I don't know if it was my imagination, but he seemed to be lining this blade up with more care than the ones that came before.

I guess I was awe-struck into not intervening, but just watched as he pushed. I was so passive that I hardly reacted when the tip of the blade emerged from the other side of the cabinet, and did not resist when the magician pulled the final blade from my hand. This blade went through the cabinet below the previous one so that the handles touched once it was fully inserted.

“Dean, are those your sister's legs?” he asked. I dumbly nodded; what else could they be; they had been in sight throughout the performance. “So, you'd be surprised if I did this?” He stepped behind the cabinet and flipped a couple of catches, then gripped a pair of handles near the tops of the sides and lifted the upper section clear off the area that had been the original seat, from which Clare's legs still projected. He staggered a little, as if the blade penetrated box he had lifted had some weight to it, then taken a few steps to the side he lowered the section to the floor.

Having deposited Clare's upper, he returned to the boxed in seat part of the illusion, tapped My sister's knee to get a reaction, then turned the seat on the spot to make it clear that there was nowhere that any part of Clare, above her hips, could be hiding in the small box, from which her legs emerged.

Then, as quickly as it had happened, the magician reversed the effect; putting the top back on the box, pulling out the blades and handing them back to me at a rate that meant that I did not get to scrutinise anything, but had to dump it back on the rack to be ready for the next. When the front of the box came off, there sat Clare completely unharmed with a puzzled expression on her face.

“I felt some tingly feelings and some movement; what happened?” she asked.

“Dean can explain later.” The magician set about releasing the board that held Clare's legs in place.

Clare's glanced as me. “In a nutshell, he pushed some blades through you and then cut your upper half from you lower half, moved it over there. Then he reversed the whole thing.”

“That sounds so coool! I wish I could have seen it.”

The magician went still for a few seconds; to me it seemed that he had thought of something and was thinking whether he should say something, and, if so, what.

At this point there was a disturbance and the magician's assistant rushed onto the stage. She was dressed in a midriff-baring cheerleader outfit and dancing slippers. “Sorry, am I late? Some of the girls seemed to think it was funny to play 'keep away' with my shoes.”

“I'll have words with them,” the magician muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, “Well, you missed Clare, our volunteer, performing the illusion in your place.” The assistant looked a little downcast. The magician went on, “She did a marvellous job too. But she said she'd have liked to have seen it from the outside.” Clare gave a confirming nod. “So we are going to indulge her. But the audience have already seen this version, so I thought we'd show her the updated version.”

I was brought in to assist in the removal of the legs stocks, while the assistant skipped into the wings to fetch the 'updated version'.  As Clare stood from her seat, another seat the same as the first arrived, except for being narrower widthwise. The assistant took the previous seat away, with its arch and back panel still in place. Clare stepped in and sat in the seat, which was hip-width on her.

The assistant returned with some panels. “Is she going to be doing the illusion?”

“If she wants to, I don't see why not. Clare you will be able to see some of what happens if you take part in the illusion, but if you help perform the illusion you'll get a much better view.”

“Will the tingly feeling be the same?” she asked, glancing at the magician and then the assistant, to see which would answer.

The assistant spoke. “The feelings are quite similar, but the view will be rather limited.” I could not tell if she was trying to encourage or dissuade Clare.

“I liked the tingles I got, so I'll stay here. At least, I'll be able to get some idea of what's happening.” She gave me a three-second stare, daring me to say something against her decision.

The stare told me that her mind was made up. I took the chance to disassociate my from the possible consequences. “If you don't like it; I get to say, 'You made the bed, so you've got to lie in it.'” Clare stuck her tongue out at me.

“That seems to be settled. Shall we get the cabinet set up and then we can get on with it.” The magician accepted a panel from the assistant and asked Clare to raise her arms.

When Clare raise her arms, coming dangerously close to revealing the bottom of her bra, magician and assistant fitted side panels to the seat. They allowed her to lower her arms into the cutouts at the tops of the panels. The performers then took a low arch fitted it over Clare's head and attaching the ends to the tops of the side panels, thus trapping her arms through the sides with the rounded ends of her shoulders also outside.

“I hope that's not too uncomfortable,” said the magician, “but it looks like you are the same size as Helen, maybe an inch taller.”

The stage hand brought out a pair of panels and handed them to the assistant. I glanced into the wings and saw there was another rack of blades, but they were not the same blades, because the colour of the handles was different and there seemed to be more of them. Between them the magician and his assistant fitted the back panel, then I was enlisted to help fit the front panel. Clare began to protest that she was not going to be able see if the panel was put in place, until she noticed the hole near the point of the panel which it was obvious was for her face. The magician advised her that the lower half of the face hole was padded so that she could rest her chin on it, allowing the audience to see her face and her to see what happened next.

“Ok, Clare, now that we've got you boxed up.” He indicated, for the benefit of the audience, the cabinet from which Clare's limbs sprouted and her face visible in the face hole. “Who would you like to perform the illusion? I don't actually have to do it myself, so if you prefer Helen or Dean can do the work, while I tell them what to do.”

Clare gave me an appraising stare; I think she was trying to determine if I would enjoy pushing blades through her or be horrified by it. She detected that I was not happy with the situation and decided to make it worse, by asking that I perform most of the action. The magician deputised his assistant to hand over the blades and demonstrate their solidity to the audience. I may have detected a frown under the pasted on smile; I could not work out if she was jealous of my sister or me.

I was about to make an excuse about not knowing what I would need to do and the likely chance of me getting it wrong, when the magician asked the audience whether they wanted to see me shoving blades through my sister; they wanted me to do it. The magician assured me that he would be there every step of the way.

Before I had a chance to object. The assistant was pressing a wide blade into my hand. I must have looked stupid, because I turned the blade horizontal, while the magician pointed out a vertical slot. The slot went straight down the centre of the box, from a couple of inches below Clare's face to level with the top of the wall that surrounded her hips. This blade seemed thicker and heavier than any of the previous set of blades. I re-oriented the blade and located it in the slot that the magician had pointed out. I gently pushed it forward and stopped when I felt something resist the further progress of the blade; the geometry of the situation and the reaction from Clare meant that the resistance could only be my sister's body.

“Dean, you need to maintain the pressure, or the blade might slip and hurt your sister. I'm going to turn the cabinet a little, so that the audience get a better view.” With exaggerated care, the performers turned the cabinet about thirty degrees. I did my best to keep the blade through the slot at right angles. “Now that we've repositioned the cabinet a bit, please try exerting a bit more pressure.”

I was uncertain until I noticed that Clare was smiling and, somehow, the blade was a couple of inches further into the cabinet than it had been before the manoeuvre. “Are you ok?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Clare, “and I'm beginning to feel the nice tingles that I felt in the box before.”

Experimentally, I increased the pressure. The blade handle moved towards the front of the cabinet and Clare's smile got bigger. I kept pushing, especially, when she giggled and actually commented that the tingles she was feeling were good and getting better. I had to stop pushing once the handle met the front of the cabinet. I stepped back and the magician stepped in to turn the cabinet and show the edge of the blade emerging from the the rear of the cabinet.

The magician asked Clare how she felt. She answered, “Given what seems to have happened I should be dead or in lots of pain, but actually I feel good, maybe even great. What happens next?” Which was the exact question I had in mind.

“Dean will keep pushing in blades, I'll tell him where, until we run out of blades, then there will be a couple of swords; after that I'll give you a choice. Shall we get on with it?”

Helen the assistant placed another thick blade in my hand, while the magician indicated a slot the went from the bottom edge of the central blade horizontally to the side of the cabinet, so about waist level. The blade in my hand was less than half an inch narrower than the slot. It looked as if the plan was to push the blade through left side of Clare's waist, if the outline on the front was to be believed. As I pushed this blade in Clare's made noises that I had never heard her make, but she was grinning with her mouth and eyes, so I carried on.

The next blade was not as thick, but otherwise the same size. The magician pointed out a slot that went from the top of the blade down the middle across to the side above Clare's right shoulder, where it emerged through the side of the box. It looked like the intent was to cut her into two by starting an inch or two above her left hip going across to the middle, up the middle to the base of her neck and then out to an inch above her right shoulder. I found this blade was easier to push through the cabinet and Clare, presumably because it was thinner, but, while Clare seemed ok with it passing through her, she did not react as strongly to it; I don't know if the blade being less thick or going through less of her was the reason for this.

Another blade being handed to me, told me that I was not finished. This one was thick and I pushed it through the right side of Clare's waist, to mirror the last-but-one. This was quickly followed by a thin one, while was inserted above her right shoulder. This seemed to divide her into four sections; the right and left sides of her body from waist to shoulder, each section with an arm on view to show that Clare was still there even if in parts; the bottom section from her waist down, visible from mid-thigh to toe like it had been in the previous illusions; and finally the top section that presumably had her head and neck, with her face grinning from the front.

Unfortunately, we were not out of blades. The next one was a duplicate of one of the two that had been used to separate my sister in the illusion before. The magician had me slot it into the side of the cabinet level with the two thinner upper blades. I did not feel any resistance to pushing it in until it was nearly half way in. I leaned to the side so I could see Clare's reaction. She seemed calm and possibly lost in her own pleasant thoughts. I saw the moment that she felt the edge touch her neck; She frowned for a heartbeat and then realised that it was another blade and spotted me looking, so smiled at me. I took this as encouragement and pushed the blade until the leading edge stuck out the other side; her smile did not falter, if anything it broadened.

The assistant handed me what I was relieved to notice was the final blade; another thick one, but not as wide as the rest. “Where does this go?” It not seem obvious to me.

The magician tapped on the front of the cabinet where the central blade and the two blades through Clare's waist met and then made a downward gesture.

“You're kidding, right?”

“Where's he saying it should go?” asked Clare.

“Between your legs.”

“Oh!” It seemed she did some calculation of the risk and reward involved. The evident result was that she moved knees further apart, which was not far due to the thigh stock, but clear enough that she was doing her best to make this a bit easier.

I fitted the blade into the slot that went down from the bottom of the central blade to the seat and pushed until I felt some resistance. I looked up and got a nod from my sister. I shoved on the blade handle. Clare squealed; not pain, I knew immediately, but more like the squeals she gave once she had got over the initial shock of me tickling her and was beginning to have fun.

It seemed to take the magician a little longer than me to realise that Clare's vocalisation was for fun, not pain.

I stepped back to allow the audience a better view of my sister apparently divided into five sections.  Beside me was Helen holding four swords, which after that initial impression were shiny steel rods with the last four inches wrapped in black tape to make a handle. She handed me one. The magician stepped in long enough to point out a pair of holes at the inside bottom corners of the main torso sections. I located the rod in the left hole and pushed it in until I felt what I had to assume was Clare's belly resisting. Looking up I saw her biting her lip, but when I pushed harder, she seemed happier with the situation; I guess it did not feel bad, but with the neutrality of the expression, it did not feel particularly good either. The second rod was soon inserted in the adjacent hole in the adjacent section.

I was handed the third rod, then looked to the magician to find out where this one went.

“At this point, Clare, you have a choice. Would you like to see what happens to you? Or just be a part of it?”

“I want to see what happens! Wasn't that the point of being able to see out of the box?”

“Ok, Dean, insert the final sword at the top of the blade down the middle!”

I inserted tip of the rod into the hole indicated and it glided through. The assistant returned the fourth rod to the rack and then went into the back stage area.

The magician took the chance to turned the cabinet around. He demonstrate the blade edges that stuck about an inch from the rear were connected to the handles that were on the front; he did this by jiggling the blades back and forth by the edge. This action seemed to increase my sister's smile.

The assistant came back with a frame that appeared to be a pair of cubes stack on top of each other, both being a width slightly less than the width of the cabinet, She rotated the frame on its casters, presumably to assure the audience that it was exactly what it appeared to be; some square tubes welded together at the corners.

The magician was standing behind the cabinet. “Ok, Clare, are you absolutely sure you want to see what happens to you? We can change things so you are part of it.”

“I'm sure.” said Clare.

“Ok, this may feel a bit odd, but it won't last long.” The magician unclipped some catches and lifted the section with my sisters face cleanly off the rest of the cabinet. Clare must have felt something, because her arms moved as if she was trying to compensate for some sudden motion. The magician took three strides until he was behind the frame, which he used to rest the triangular box with Clare's face looking out of. Clare's response, after the initial 'I'm moving unexpectedly', was a look of fascination as her view on the scene changed.

After a second of shocked silence the audience began to clap, hoot and holler.

Clare was not entirely sure what had happened until the magician turned the frame so that she could see the cabinet with her arms and legs stick out of it and the multiple blades sticking through. “Is that me?” she asked raising her right arm to point as if the arm was still under where her head was. She obviously saw the motion and played the touch-every-finger-every-other-finger game to convince herself that what she was seeing several yards away was her hand. “My god! That is me! How?”

The magician said, “Do I have to remind you, that you are taking part in a magic show?”

“Are you saying, 'It's magic; you don't need to know'? Is that more a 'Any technology sufficiently advanced will appear to be magic' thing.”

“Take it how you like; I'm not here to provide explanations, but invoke wonder. Just be assured you are safe and will be back in one piece before the show ends.”

“Ok, sorry. So, what happens next?”

“Next, we demonstrate that the four parts of the cabinet over there have been completely divided from each other.” The magician and his assistant converged on the cabinet and began undoing catches. With a nod to his assistant, he pulled on a small handle on the side of the bench section, while she did the same.

It is difficult to describe how the box unfolded; the bench section separated between Clare's legs held level by a pair of telescopic rods under the seat. The torso sections were hinged to the bench sections by the rods I had inserted at the inner bottom corners, so a gap opened up at waist-level as each section leaned inwards at the top where the other rod pinned them together. This leaning continued until the tops of the torso boxes met with Clare's shoulders sticking up from either side about three inches apart.

I looked over at Clare's face in the box on the supporting frame and I assume the shocked look on her face was mirrored on my own. It would seem she recovered sooner than I did, because she raised her arms from resting on the side, now top, of the box. Once they were straight up from the now horizontal boxes she tried to get them to touch. When her hands did touch, it was obvious that she was feeling that it was wrong in some way. “It feels a bit like touching my hands stretched out behind my back without the strain in my shoulders,” she commented.

As the applause died down, magician and assistant worked together to rebuilt the cabinet and remove the blades, so that Clare was able to stand up from the bench in one piece a couple of minutes later. After he showed that she was really back to normal, She asked if the magician needed a volunteer for any more illusions, because she had enjoyed taking part in the ones she had.

He told her that there would be need for more volunteers, but he would be unable to chose her again for fear that the audience would assume that she was a plant. He did add that if she was interested in auditioning for a role in the show one of his dancer/assistants, because one was retiring to get married.

Back in our seats, it seemed that Clare could not concentrate on the small magic, but focused like a laser on the bigger tricks. After the show, she dragged me to see if she could arrange to be auditioned to be part of the magic show. She hoped the audition would begin a career for her as a magician's assistant.