Chapter 48
The Flirts of Magic
Both in Soria and in the Technocracy—the Russians didn't have time—there were many who thought they could flirt with the terrible world of magic without their gypsy ways coming to a head. The character Iseka was one of these. He hadn't learned his lesson from the rooftop incident when a possessed person almost killed him. He acquired more caution and faith, but not enough.
One night, resting at home from his telephone duties and his writing, settled comfortably in his favorite armchair—upholstered in Russian leather, like his books, and whose legs had been cut from a genuine crocodile and subsequently embalmed—listening to Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D major, smoking a rich man's cigar that would have cost him no less than four monitors, and drinking a triple Moscow in Flames, 1812 vintage, on the rocks, it was precisely in that state that a brilliant idea occurred to him. He didn't entirely believe in the ease of magic, as has already been said; nevertheless, he was greatly annoyed when his friends laughed, not acknowledging that he possessed important esoteric secrets: "And, believe it or not, I know more about these things than you might think." His vanity and frivolity were about to cost him dearly. He didn't know it, of course. But that night he decided to go further. So, in front of his friends, he claimed to be able to unleash an erotic force upon a dead man through his sorcery. He prepared to demonstrate it, ignoring the jeers with which the others greeted his declaration.
First, he conducted a series of studies and in situ tests on the corpora cavernosa. For this, he enlisted the help of a friend, a medical student, and together they stole a cadaver from the morgue. The idea was to pronounce the cabalistic names of power, amidst shadows and candlelight—the entire room draped in black cloth—before the naked, recumbent body, laid on a catafalque in the middle of the room. His friend, the student, hidden behind a bliombo, would insufflate pressurized liquid through a tube whose end would be inside the inert member. Then, at a signal, the sudden injection would produce a magnificent symphonic explosion.
Indeed, that is what they did. With a solemn voice and raising his arms, the character appeared before the terror of all those present, who were already beginning to believe it: "Nigrus, nigru, nigrum. Oh Mighty Salmon! By the power of that clavicle, I command you to place at my disposal two little devils who will obey me blindly day and night, etcetera." For although it may not be entirely complete, with an "etcetera," the first part of his invocation is complete. Then he continued: "Arise, select and august tuning fork."
Slowly, the "diaspason" rose up, until it stood like one of those boundary stones the ancient Egyptians used to separate their fields from their neighbors' lands. Iseka, the shameless liar, though he didn't say it outright, gave the impression of having said: "Protect me on the long journey to the Land of the West. Remember that my chest never slammed shut on the widow's money and that I never ordered my servants to move boundary stones at night to enlarge my field at the expense of my neighbor's." You'll see what's coming to you, Iseka, for playing the trickster.
But, as in the Tarzan novels, it's best that we suspend this interesting story here and recount it.
The character enjoyed practical jokes. Playing them, not having them played on him. Some months earlier, he had received a visit from an extremely timid friend. Shortly before his arrival, he had the precaution of recording twenty minutes of silence on a tape recorder and, immediately afterward, a horrifying, otherworldly groan. When his friend knocked on the door, quick as lightning, he placed his device upstairs in the perfectly simulated crawl space of his room. He checked the time and turned it on. He had exactly twenty minutes. Without losing a moment, he went downstairs and let his friend in.
The decor or staging was designed to influence the visitor: The infernal book (treasure trove of the occult sciences), open to a certain page with extremely strange drawings. A black candle on the table. More magic books to one side, closed but with clearly visible titles.
After the other person was inside, the character suddenly said:
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
----Did you know I now practice black magic? --- Just hearing that made the newcomer turn livid.---- Today, for the first time in eons on this very spot, an experiment in these sciences will take place. Are you ready?
---And he discreetly checked the time.
The idea of choosing this particular man as a victim, and not another, was suggested to him by the man himself one winter night when, having invited him to his house, at one point, between glasses of wine, the guest got up to check the time. He walked toward Iseka's alarm clock, which was lying face down on a small table. Before he could touch it, the homeowner said, "There's no need to look at it. It's 9:25 at night." He had checked his wristwatch, but the other man didn't know this. The effect was incredible. Terrified, he put a hand to his heart, stumbling over his words and asking, "How do you know?!" "Because I looked here," he replied, and showed Iseka his wristwatch. "Ah!" I exclaimed with the relief of someone who for a moment thought they'd seen a ghost. "What a scare! I thought you were an esotericist, or something. Don't scare me like that anymore.
So, seeing him so fearful, I devised the joke that is recounted, without considering the consequences.
...for the first time in eons on the site you are looking at, an experiment with these Sciences is going to take place. Are you ready? —And I discreetly checked the time.
The other, wetting his underwear:
----No! Not at all! Why would I be willing!
---But my dear friend----argued the character, trying to convince him----. Don't tell me you believe in this nonsense.
---Well, it's not that I believe, but...
---Then let's do a test...
---...but, as the Basques say: "I don't believe in witches or supernatural mischief; but that they are true and exist, I'm sure."
--Nonsense.
---And before the visitor had time to protest, he lit the candle and turned off the electric light. He began the invocation very quickly and simplified it because the twenty minutes were almost up. No sooner had I made a solemn demand to the Great Dwarf Fetish of the Meh Kong Delta to make the soul of Titus Andronicus appear than a chilling groan was heard from the mezzanine.
The guest's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. Startled, Personalje blew out the candle and flicked on the light switch. After great effort, he managed to revive his friend with the help of a little gin.
Not satisfied with the outcome of his prank, which could easily have been fatal, he plotted another, more elaborate and ambitious one, this time involving the dead man in his catafalque.
The magnanimous reader will have to forgive me for the underhandedness of this digression, which created discontinuous breaks in the narrative. It's a bit of a pain, I admit. Nevertheless, it was the only way I could write: "But, as in the Tarzan novels, it's best that we suspend this interesting story here and give a recap," that excellent joke. I promise not to do it again. At least, that's what I hope.
But as I was saying. After his demonstration of power, Character Iseka, in a solemn voice, ordered the deceased's diaphragm to cease vibrating. It obeyed instantly. Everyone was filled with horror; except for Character, of course. He turned on the electric lights, extinguished the candle, and smiled.
Suddenly, a tremor was felt behind the screen where his assistant was hiding.
And a groan. "But how could that be?" "How could what, you idiot?" "Why did you come out?" "How could that happen if the device broke down?!" The character Iseka knew when a man was lying or telling the truth. He turned as pale as the corpse, which remained motionless after its inexplicable feat.
The only one who wasn't afraid was an old Japanese man whom no one knew—everyone assumed someone else had invited him—and who, sitting in a corner, watched everything with the smile of a Zen master.
It was De Gaula. With the mudra of illusion, he had altered his physical appearance. He was passing by by chance, but upon seeing what was happening, to mock and teach a lesson—both at once—he decided to carry out the aforementioned educational prank.
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