I try to push it aside, though, and focus on playing my role for the audience.  The reactions of the crowd and the much more involved give-and-take make it feel ten times as exciting as that first time in the club.  I start to wonder if it would be legitimately possible to give up my job and just make a living doing performances like this.

When he makes the final change, I can't see what he's done, but I can feel the heavier makeup on my face and the pigtails, and by awkwardly twisting my arm around, my fingers are able to brush over a thick cylindrical shape protruding from my back.  It doesn't make a lot of sense, but then when he begins to "hypnotize" me, it comes to me immediately...I'm a wind-up doll.  I have to struggle not to grin, I'm having so much fun!

The magician looks a bit concerned, I suppose because I'm not acting hypnotized enough.  But before I can try to improve my performance, he whispers some Latin to me, and everything becomes a little hazy and dream-like, and it's too comfortable to worry about anything, or really move at all.

He walks out of my sight, then I feel a strange sensation at my back, a bit like how it felt when I was twisted up earlier, but different somehow, more concentrated.  There's a loud ratcheting sound coming from me too, and I'd giggle at it, but I'm just too comfortable to do anything other than remain still.  The audience laughs for me, though.  The pressure in my back is spreading up and down my body, and it makes me want to stand straighter, so I do, and lift my arms above my head.  I even rise up en pointe, which I've never even tried to do, but it somehow seems easy and natural now.

I hear the most lovely music-box tune float overhead, and can't resist the sudden urge to dance to it.  I begin to move around the stage, my movements a little stiff but somehow still graceful.  Once, when my head faces off-stage, I can see the magician moving the twister box there and pulling at something else, but what he's doing isn't important while the music plays, so I don't pay it much attention.

After a minute, I start to feel sluggish, my joints stiffening, and I dance more slowly, the music slowing in pace with me.  Soon, both I and the music have stopped, and I'm left half-bent forward, my arms frozen in curves at my sides.  I fuzzily wonder what's happened, but the audience applauds, so it must be okay.

I feel hands at my waist, then I'm lifted up.  As I'm turned, I see a slanted table, decorated in brass sheets with rivets, very workbench-looking.  Arranged around the surface are things that look like pairs of large gears of various sizes, each hinged at one side and hanging open, and there's a large hole near the middle of the table.  I'm set down for a moment, then the magician moves in front of me and picks me up again, placing me on the table and pushing my shoulders back so I lie flat.  Now I can't see what he's doing exactly, but I can feel a tightness at my neck, then shoulders, wrists, waist, upper thighs, and ankles.

He pushes on the table by my head, and it tips back, becoming horizontal.  He rotates it to make it parallel to the audience, and as he does I can now see the large screen hanging at the back of the stage is lit again, showing a close-up view of me on the table, the pairs of gears securely closed around me.  The magician is wearing a sort of leather lab-coat and apron, and has goggles on his head.

He moves to the foot of the table, and I can feel him untying my ballet shoes and removing them.  I want to flex my toes a bit to relieve the pinch, but I'm really still too comfortable, so I don't.  But he pokes each sole with a strange narrow tool in his hand, all brass and flanges, and my feet each give a single twitch in turn.  The magician moves up the table and repeats the process, producing a similar twitch in each part, and scattered laughter from the audience.  When he pokes my cheek, I stick my tongue out briefly, and the laughter gets loud for a moment, which makes me happy, but I'm too comfortable to smile.

I can see on the screen the magician scratching his head for a moment.  He shrugs and moves to the middle of the table, putting one hand on each gear of the pair that's around my left wrist.  He strains for a moment, then manages to turn the bottom gear, my hand rotating around with it.  When it's completed a full turn, the bottom gear pops off into his hand, and he holds it up to his face, examining my hand.  It doesn't really feel like much when it comes off, just a gentle tugging on my wrist, but I can feel his breath when my hand is close to his mouth.  There's a murmur from the audience, and scattered applause.

The magician places the hand, gear-down, onto a small post connected to the wheeled base of the table on the side facing the audience.  He then proceeds to quickly repeat the process, removing my left arm, then feet, legs, right hand and arm, pelvis, and head.  He mounts each piece on a post like the first one until every part of me is now mounted on the row of posts, my chest last.  I feel him rotate my chest on the post, then hear and feel the loud ratcheting again.  When it stops, the music begins again, and I try to dance, but separated as I am, I just end up wiggling my parts around randomly.  It's a little frustrating, but the audience seems to appreciate it, since they applaud again, so I'm happy.

"If you like that twist, this one is gonna blow your mind..."

The magician moves next to my head.  He's holding a microphone again, and touches my forehead with his free hand.

"Wake."  The fuzziness lifts, and my mouth falls open as I fully realize what condition I'm in.  The magician puts his fingers on my scalp and turns my head so I can see down the row of my other separated parts.

"Oh my God," I say.  "I'm...you...I'm..." I trail off, momentarily speechless.  The audience murmurs loudly, no doubt debating whether I'm acting or not.  But at the moment, I'm really not.  When I found out magic was real, I sort of assumed that even things like this would be possible, but a vague assumption is a far sight from actually seeing your body in eleven pieces.  I wiggle a foot and wave a hand, marveling at how natural it seems.  The magician, seeing this experimentation, moves over to one of my feet.

"Yep...it's really you..." he says, and lightly dances his fingers over the sole.  I laugh helplessly, trying to twitch my foot out of his reach, but all it does is thrash ineffectually.  The audience laughs as well, a peculiar mix of titillation and embarrassment at the creep factor.  He stops after a few seconds, glancing at his watch.

"Well, I'm about out of time and I need to get you back to your seat, so I'll need to do a rush job here."  He trots quickly off-stage.

"I'll just...wait here, then?" I ask, as loudly as I can.  I don't have a mic, but at least the first few rows of the audience hear me, and I hear scattered laughter.  So much fun, playing to the crowd.

I see him wheel out another box in front of the table, it's blue and has recycling logos on every side.  He begins to pull my parts off of the posts and toss them carelessly into the box.  It isn't really big enough to hold everything even if they were put inside in a more organized way, and as it is, various knees and elbows are poking out of the top.

"Any last words?" he asks, holding the microphone to my chin for my response.

"Um...be gentle?" I suggest, and he laughs along with the audience.  He twists the gear at my neck halfway around, then lifts my head up and places it with exaggerated care on the top of the pile of...me.

Face-down.

"Hm, hm...vmry fmmmy..." I mutter, into what I believe is my own rear, producing a rather surreal sensation.  I can't really see what's happening, but I begin to feel a flat surface pressing down against the back of my head and all my protruding parts, the pressure growing and growing until it's all over me.  It's very dark, and I assume I'm going to Vanish, but then I see light again and yet I still feel the pressure and can't move at all.

I feel myself lifted up and I can see the audience, laughing and clapping, as a peculiar flopping sensation moves down my body.  I hazard a guess that while reassembled, I'm now two-dimensional.  Cute.  He taps a finger at the top of my head, and another flopping sensation cascades downward.  Though I still feel compressed everywhere, there's a subtle shift in various places that suggests he's restored my original outfit.  The magician holds out a fist in front of me.

"Here we go, one, two, three!"  As he counts, I realize he's about to restore me completely, and I tense my entire body, clamping my mouth shut.  He opens his fist and an out-sized burst of confetti rains down in front of me, my body expanding to its normal shape in an instant.  But my precautions pay off, and I manage to avoid giving an inappropriate floor show, with only a quiet whimper and shake of my legs to betray the now-familiar bursts of pleasure shooting through me.  The magician notices, though, and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"You ok?" he asks, with apparently genuine concern.  I nod hurriedly and give him a beaming smile.  He smiles as well, obviously relieved, and turns back to the audience.

"Stanza, everybody!  Give her what she deserves!" he shouts into the microphone.  The crowd erupts in applause, a fair number even standing up.  I'm touched by the appreciation in it, standing there in the afterglow of my restoration, the air around me throbbing with applause and cheers.  I can't remember ever being happier in my entire life.

Instinctively, I wave to Julia to include her in the perfect moment, but when I manage to pick out her seat in the crowd, it's empty.