Metamorphosis

by Sesh Heri

  “Hinson?” Collins asked. “Who is Hinson?”

  “Who is Hinson?” I asked back. “Hinson! My brother-in-law!”

  “Oh, Hanson,” Collins said. “I thought you said Hinson.”

  “I said—“ I stopped. I realized that in this universe my cabinet-maker brother-in-law was named Hanson.

  “I said Hanson,” I said. “Better get your ears checked.”

  “Yes sir,” Collins said.

  “Come on,” I said, and the two of us walked back up the alley to the loading door and went back into the theatre.

  Our last matinee of the week proceeded according to the pattern that had already been established in the preceding days, but I stood in the wings and backstage as much as I could, watching the other acts, trying to see if there were any marked differences between what they were doing now and what I remembered them doing earlier in the week. Every detail of the show seemed the same, the jokes, the songs. But something indefinable was different. The whole mood and sense of the place had been changed. What had been a “hum” of precision and competence now took on a frenetic “buzz”. Were the actors rushing their lines and bits, or was I only imagining this? Or was time itself passing more rapidly for me?

  My turn suddenly came. I watched the motion pictures of my bridge jumps from the wings as usual. The motions of the images seemed to be going by too fast. Was there something wrong with the projection machine? Then I saw a clip of film flash on to the screen that I had never seen before. It showed me bound in a straitjacket hanging on to an airplane in mid-flight. Someone shoves me out of the plane. As I go out the side of the plane I grab a parachute between my heels. A long shot shows a chute opening. A close shot shows me hanging upside down with my feet clasping the opened parachute pack while I struggle in the straitjacket. I get the straitjacket off, drop it, and then bend at my waist, grab the parachute pack with my hands, and then ride the opened parachute to the ground where I land on my feet. I had no memory of ever performing and filming this stunt, only of thinking about doing it someday. Now I was seeing that I had already performed and filmed the stunt in this universe.

  The motion picture images flickered with greater speed, and then flashed off into blackness. It was my cue to take center stage. I went out and did my show. I didn’t notice anything unusual until I came backstage to change for the water cell. Collins came up to me.

  “Mr. ‘oudini, are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “Why?”

  “You’re a bit slow tonight,” Collins said.

  “I am?” I asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Collins said. “You’re talking very slowly out there.”

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll watch it.”

  I went back to my dressing room, changed, and came back out on stage. As I approached the stage I began noticing a strange sensation. Everything started moving slower, and just as it seemed that everything would stop completely like a statue, everything started speeding up again. Then everything became too fast. Then all motion would slow down again. I looked about. No one seemed to be noticing this phenomenon but me.

  I began to speak:

  “In introducing my original invention, the Chinese Water Torture Cell, although there is nothing supernatural about it, I am willing to forfeit the sum of ten thousand dollars to anyone who can prove that I can obtain air while in the upside down position.”

  I went through my speech describing the cell and its

  construction as the committee members from the audience looked on. Everyone seemed satisfied with what I was saying and the way that I was saying it. I was trying to talk a little faster.

  Then the time came for me to be locked into the stocks of the cell. I lay down and watched Collins and Vickery go to work. Yes, I thought, they are moving abnormally fast. Everything is going by too fast.

  I was suddenly thrust feet first into the air at great speed, but with none of the inertia I would have normally experienced with such a motion. I felt feather-light.

  Then I was lowered into the tank. The surface of the water gave way with no resistance, it seemed. I went down, was locked into position and the curtains snapped shut.

  I made a quick escape. As soon as I slipped out of the tank I heard the surging voices of a mob— it was the audience overcome with hysteria. I immediately pulled back the curtain. Vickery stood white-faced alongside of Collins who was holding Bess. Her face was red and she was screaming. When everyone saw me, all sound stopped. There was silence, complete silence. Then the applause came as a roar. Bess sagged in Collins arms. I went to him and took hold of her. She threw her arms around me.

  “I came right out,” I whispered in her ear.

  “It was three and a half minutes,” she wailed. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I swear I don’t know. I came right out.”

  The audience was on its feet, a standing ovation that lasted five minutes. I stood there with Bess holding on to me.

  “It wasn’t a stunt?” she whispered in my ear.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head.

  I sat in my dressing room, trying to settle my nerves. The matinee was over, and we had one more show to do that evening. I was hoping I could get through it. The ache in the back of my neck was more pronounced than ever, but my perception of the passage of time seemed to be leveling out. Jack and Charmian came through the door, followed by Bess. Charmian was wearing a big hat, a jacket with puffy shoulders, and a matching skirt.

  “Great show!” Jack said, shaking my hand.

  “You had us all scared to death!” Charmian gasped.

  “That’s why it was a great show!” Jack exclaimed. “You had the hair standing up on the back of my neck. I was sure you were a goner this time!”

  “Jack!” Charmian said disapprovingly, tossing her head back slightly toward Bess who stood behind them.

  “It was just a show,” Jack said to Charmian, and then turned to me, and asked, “right?”

  I started to answer, but Jack held up his hand.

  “Never mind,” he said. “We won’t spoil the illusion. I’ve had enough illusions spoiled in my life already.”

  Collins put his head in the door, and said, “Photographer’s here.”

  Another detail that is the same in this universe, I thought. I had contacted a photographer a few days earlier to come to the theatre after the matinee on this Saturday so that I could get a picture of me with Jack.

  “Photographer?” Jack asked.

  I said, “I’ve taken the liberty of engaging a photographer to take a picture of us, if that’d be all right.”

  “Of course,” Jack said, “as long as I get a print. Where shall we go to have it taken?”

  “I thought we could do it out on the stage, against one of the drops,” I said.

  “That’ll work!” Jack said. “Let’s do it.”

  We all went out on the stage. Charmian and Bess went out first. In the wings, Jack stopped me.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “My neck,” I said.

  “Still stiff?” Jack asked.

  “It’s worse,” I said.

  “Want me to get you a doctor?” he asked.

  “What doctor could fix my neck?” I asked.

  “I see your point,” Jack said.

  “Guess what,” I said. “You know that stage hand I told you about?”

  “Yes,” Jack said.

  “He showed up again,” I said. “I just had a scrape with him a little earlier in the back alley. And he disappeared. I mean, he literally disappeared.”

  “I see,” Jack said. He looked out to the stage where Charmian and Bess were standing.

  “Just wanted you to know,” I said.

  Jack nodded.

  Collins brought out a couple of chairs. We all came forward, and Bess and Charmian sat down. The photographer had set up his camera on its tripod at the edge of the stage by the footlights. He stood there adjusting his camera
with his back to the silent house with all its empty seats.

  “Where should I stand?” I asked the photographer.

  “Why don’t you stand behind the ladies,” the photographer replied. “And, Mr. London, you could stand next to Mrs. Houdini. That’s it, mix things up a bit.”

  “We should do something in this photograph,” Jack said, “to make the picture look natural.”

  “Why don’t you talk, Jack?” Charmian said.

  “I am talking,” Jack said. “I am also breathing. Houdini doesn’t need to breathe, but I do.”

  “And you need to talk,” Charmian said.

  “It facilitates the breathing,” Jack said.

  “You could lend advice,” Charmian said.

  “Sage advice,” Jack said. “I am an expert on crop rotation and small boat sailing— two unrelated subjects I have made it my business to relate— that is they relate to me, because I am interested in them.”

  The photographer had his tripod positioned and was getting ready to take a snap of us.

  “Have you ever rotated a crop?” Jack asked me.

  “I can’t say I have,” I replied. “I do have a small farm up in Connecticut, Weiss Hill, I call it. But I hardly ever get up there, and when I do I haven’t had time to rotate the crops, but just clear out rocks.”

  “Ah, soil reclamation!” Jack said. “A fascinating subject. There is much that can be done with rocky, hilly land to make it yield a crop. I’ve done some interesting experiments along those lines up at Beauty Ranch. The key to working hilly land is terracing. It is both a science and an art. I’ll show you what I’ve done up at the ranch. I’ve terraced a whole hillside there and engineered a complete irrigation system.”

  The photographer had taken several flash-snaps of us while Jack had been speaking. The picture that I kept shows Jack talking about soil reclamation while Charmian and I listen to him. Bess is looking at the camera.

  “That’s it,” the photographer said. “I think I have all I need.”

  “Very good,” I said.

  The photographer began packing up his equipment. Bess and Charmian stood up.

  “We must go,” Jack said.

  “More catching up to do?” I asked.

  “More catching up,” Jack said. “But we will see you after tonight’s show.”

  “Remember we’re having the cast party tonight backstage,” I said.

  “We wouldn’t miss it,” Jack said. “Love cast parties— don’t you, Bess?”

  “Well, sure,” Bess said.

  Jack took Bess by her elbow and led her backstage. I heard him ask her, “Are we beginning to bore you, Bess?”

  And I heard Bess say, “Certainly not!”

  “We will try to do better, madam,” I heard Jack say, and then he and Bess had stepped behind a curtain and were out of my sight.

  “Jack says ‘Bess’ in an odd way,” I said. “Have you noticed that? He draws the name out— sort of like a snake hissing.”

  “Yes,” Charmian said. “I know. There’s a reason.”

  “What?” I asked.

  Charmian turned to me, looked me right in the eye, and said, “Jack’s ex-wife is named Bess.”

  Then she extended her hand for me to shake. I grasped her hand and felt a folded piece of paper in it. She dropped her hand, turned, and followed Jack and Bess on backstage.

  I looked down at my hand and the folded piece of paper I was now holding in it.

  I unfolded the paper, and read the following message, written by Charmian:

  “Meet me under the big babies at 5 pm.”

  Big babies?

  Then I remembered: she meant that statue down on the square with the big Cupids holding up a basin. That was where I first saw her, first met her. Why did she want to meet me there— now— and secretly? A number of answers to that question flashed through my mind.

  I looked around. The photographer was finishing putting away his camera and tripod. I went backstage. Jack and Charmian had already left. Some of the actors in the show were playing cards at a table. Bess came up to me. I started to speak.

  “I know,” she said. “You’re looking for Jimmy. He’s back there.”

  “You know I’ve got to run through the pack-up with him,” I said. “They’re all making the jump tonight after the show.” (Collins and the rest of my assistants were taking the night train for Los Angeles after this last evening’s show.)

  “I know,” Bess said. “Go on. I’m going up to the room and feed Bobby.”

  Bess turned and went out the stage door. I went around to the back of the stage and found Collins and my other assistants sitting at a table, playing cards.

  “Are we ready for the jump tonight?” I asked Collins.

  “Everything’s ship-shape, sir,” Collins replied. “I’ve given the boys their train tickets and got the transport truck in the alley.”

  “And you’re all packed?” I asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Collins said. “We’ve got all our trunks out in the transport truck, turned in our hotel keys, and are all checked out.”

  “Good,” I said. “Let’s remember to get the birds out of my room tonight after the show and put them in the transport truck. I want you to take them with you.”

  “We’ll do that, sir,” Collins said. “What about Bobby?”

  “We’ll keep Bobby with us,” I said. “It’ll be good for him to explore the countryside.”

  “Oh, he’ll love that,” Collins said.

  “Where’s the girls?” I asked, referring to Collins and Vickery’s wives.

  “Off to the fair again,” Collins said with a chuckle and waving his hand in the air. “They’ll meet us here at the theatre after the show tonight.”

  “That’s fine,” I said, “as long as they get here on time so you don’t miss the train.”

  “Oh they’ll be here on time,” Collins said, and I knew that was so, for, to me, Collin’s word was gold.

  I said, “Now if you need to contact me when you get to Los Angeles tomorrow, wire me at Glen Ellen, California and have them send it up to Jack London’s place— Beauty Ranch, its called. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir,” Collins said. “Beauty Ranch.”

  “Seems you have everything else well in hand,” I said. “I’m going out. I may be back in about an hour or— I may not.”

  “We will be prepared in either case,” Collins said.

  “All right, then,” I said, and turned and went out the stage door.

  I walked down the alley and out to the street. It was Saturday afternoon and the streets were full of people. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was getting close to five, so I started for the square on foot.

  When I got there, I saw Charmian standing under the statue of the “big babies”, just as I had seen her the other day when it was pouring rain. She was standing in exactly the same spot. But now she was wearing that big hat and the elaborate jacket with puffy shoulders and matching skirt. I could just see her as a pattern of dark and light, for night was closing in fast; the gray sky was turning charcoal.

  I crossed the street along with the rest of the crowd. When I got across, I saw that Charmian had turned to look right at me. I felt as though her eyes had been following me as I had walked all the way up Broadway. I stopped in front of her. She did not extend her hand to me.

  She only said, “Magic Man.”

  I nodded once.

  “We can’t talk here,” she said. “Come on.”

  I followed her up along Broadway. We passed through crowds of people. I wondered what she wanted, why she had asked me to come. I glanced over at her, but her face told me nothing. I suddenly felt a wave of uneasiness, a feeling I sometimes have when I sense that I’m being followed, and I’ve been followed many times in my life.

  “Over here,” I suddenly said, and I took her by the elbow and led her to the recessed entrance of a building. We stood there for a moment.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  �
��Someone’s behind us,” I said.

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Don’t know,” I said. “Just watch.”

  People walked past us, back and forth. We stood there near the wall where we couldn’t be seen and waited. More people, back and forth, right and left. And then—

  Bess walked by.

  She walked from our right to our left and then out of sight.

  A moment passed, then:

  “She followed you?” Charmian asked.

  “Don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. Maybe she’s following me. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”

  “Does she usually follow you?” Charmian asked.

  “Not usually,” I said.

  “Does she ever follow you?” Charmian asked. “Has she ever followed you?”

  “She— has. Sometimes,” I said. “Once. A long time ago— in Amsterdam.”

  “Why did she follow you?” Charmian asked.

  “She thought I was having an affair with an actress,” I said. “A woman named Milla Barry.”

  “Were you?” Charmian asked.

  “Having an affair?” I asked. “No. Barry wanted to, but I wouldn’t oblige.”

  “Is that the straight of it?” Charmian asked.

  “That’s the straight of it,” I said.

  “You know,” Charmian said, “I wouldn’t have thought any the less of you, if you did have an affair. Jack has had affairs, and so have I.”

  I looked at Charmian. Her blue eyes were intoxicatingly beautiful. I was close enough to her to smell her perfume and sense the shape of her body beneath her clothing.

  “Is that why you’re here?” I asked.

  “To start an affair?” Charmian asked, the corners of her mouth forming into a smile, her eyes twinkling. “What if I were? What if I came here to ask you to go to bed with me? Have some lolly?”

  I kept looking into her eyes.

  “Oh,” she said, “you like that idea, don’t you.”

  I looked back to the street.

  “Think she’s coming back?” Charmian asked.

  “If she’s following me, she’s coming back,” I said.