Читать книгу Priestess Itfut - Вадим Зеланд - Страница 3

At the same time but in a different era and in a different place…

How it is possible for something to be ‘at the same time but in a different era’ – we will explain later. Movement through time and space is not always linear, at least within the limits of what can be seen and understood. And just because something lies beyond the limits of our comprehension does not mean that it does not exist.

In order to move from the point in time and space where we left priestess Itfut to the new place of action, the observer is required to undertake a rather elaborate journey.

Imagine that you are flying up through the sky. Itfut transforms from a figure on the sand to a tiny speck. The earth appears to move further and further away until it resembles the lines on a map, and you are lifted higher and higher until eventually, the blue of the sky is replaced by the black of the cosmos.

Now you are flying through the black abyss, but it is not dark because of the stars and Earth is still visible like a blue ball moving away in the distance. And soon Earth is nothing more than a dot and your movement is no longer visible. There comes a point when you are frozen in this position, surrounded by stars in the blackness, nothing but stars.

Then, one of those stars suddenly transforms into a tube. It draws you inside a glowing tunnel, pulling you through it for what feels like an infinity and at the same time you are travelling incredibly fast.

Finally, the speed slows down, you are pushed out of the other end of the tube and again find yourself floating in black space filled with stars. One star begins to increase in size, and you realize that you are no longer hanging there suspended, you are moving.

Then the star transforms into a ball which gradually expands before you into a blue planet. It is the Earth but in a different epoch. You enter the Earth’s atmosphere and blackness is replaced by blueness; it is as if you are drowning, falling through the clouds. You find yourself floating in a gray fog for a while before being plunged back into darkness this time because, in this epoch, the sun has already set.

Below you can see the lights of the city at night. You plane downwards drawing ever closer to the flickering lights. You fly across motorways with cars whizzing past, squares filled with people, rivers, bridges, luminous apartment blocks, houses, until finally, you dart in through a random window.

Now we can say that it is the same time only we are in a different epoch and a different place, specifically a theater, in which a film is being made of the musical ‘Finished Clown’.

Why a clown and in what way ‘finished’? Finished as in passed away or finished in the sense of hopeless, incorrigible, done-for? The film crew did not appear to know either as they were still in the so-called ‘creative process’.

The auditorium was immersed in half-light. Abandoned belongings and coats lay thrown across chairs. A handful of people were sitting in the auditorium, one dozing and another staring at the brightly lit stage, where theatre types rushed about busy preparing for a rehearsal. The stage was set up as a semi-cylindrical transformer with images and lighting effects projected onto the floor and walls.

The director was standing in the middle of the stage, an emotional figure cursing wildly.

“It won’t do. None of you will do! Are we shooting a musical or a funeral? Get lost, fools! Get lost! Come back different!” What he meant by this and in what way they should return different, the director did not bother to explain. But the members of the film crew, a motley crowd dressed up to the nines, were not going to hang about to find out and fled in all directions.

“Right, where is my diva? She’s the only one who inspires me. Bring me my diva! Max, will she be long?” he asked turning to his operator. “Go and find out.”

The operator ran behind the wings and quickly returned. Max was a young man with a stutter, and he had the habit of taking a long time to prepare before saying anything:

“Victor, we… We-e…”

“We what? Who we are and what we are is a complex philosophical question. Spit it out!”

“Matilda is being difficult again.” Max finally managed to say.

“Just get her here!” yelled Victor (which was what they called the director) in an intimidating voice.

“Victor!” A woman’s voice could be heard behind the wings. “Here she is, I’m here!” Following on from the voice the woman herself appeared. The instantly created the impression of being a highly eccentric individual dressed as she was in a dark-green jumpsuit and huge pink platforms, as well as donning a shock of light-blue hair strewn with light-purple highlights. You could say she was a ‘blue blonde’.

“Come here, Tili, my darling, my angel!” Victor approached the eccentric woman throwing his arms wide open. “Ok, turn around. Aren’t you beautiful!” and abruptly changing the tone of his voice, he said, “What are you doing here still not made up! Skedaddle back to the dressing room, quick!”

“I don’t want to. It takes so lo-o-o-ong!” Matilda had the habit of extending her vowels. “It’s only a rehearsal anyway!”

“I’m the one who decides whether it’s a rehearsal or a film shoot. Get out of my sight!”

“I want a sweet! You promised me chocolate-coated cherries.”

“What a b…” Max stuttered, trying to join the conversation. “B, b…”

“You’re saying I have such a beautiful what? Hurry up!”

“What a banal choice – chocolate-coated cherries!” said Max, finally managing to finish his sentence.

“Oooh, but I want some!”

“Diva, you know the rules. If you don’t do a take, you don’t get a treat,” said Victor. “Do it, and you’ll have your treat. Now get lost all of you! No, wait, let’s rehearse your curtsy again.”

Matilda stepped to one side and gave an affected curtsy.

“Oh, how vulgar!” shouted Victor. “Come on, again. Do it as you were taught to, hands to the chest and… not on the chest, to the chest, and with feeling, with dignity! It should be light, not buffoon-like! What am I going to do with her? That’s it, get out of here, you monster, or I’ll shoot you myself!”

Matilda turned on her platforms and was about to make a run for it.

“No! Stop! Tili, darling! Come back here!”

Matilda turned again and waited expectantly.

“Sometimes, you say something, out of the mouth of a babe. Seriously, what would be the best dance to use in this shot, street or house?”

“It needs the twist. The twist is what’s needed.” the diva answered him.

“What, what, what? Why?”

“Because all your go-go and R&B totally sucks. It’s all old hat.”

“What? What? What do you mean, old hat, it’s contemporary dance.”

“Because it’s all so boring! Boring – that’s why!”

“Right, great explanation. But why the twist? That’s retro.”

“New is the forgotten old. You can make a new fashion out of anything that’s been forgotten.”

“That’s a th… th-th… That’s a thought.” said Max.

“Agreed. We should try it.” said Victor. “Ok, go and get made up, there’s a smart girl.”

“I’m clever with or without my makeup!” Matilda retorted and ran backstage with a happy skip.

Victor beckoned the wardrobe-mistress and whispered something in her ear, after which she disappeared.

“Right, now the rest of you talentless, retards, take a good look at yourselves and quickly assume a genius state. Go on, go on, I can see you beginning to shine already! Max, you and the other bird-brains! We need to decide on the music and effects. Time, time! We’re running out of time! Let me know as soon as Matilda is ready.”

The stage was once again a whirl of bustling preparations. After some time that as always, ‘was and was not’, Victor began giving directions.

“Right, all set! Max, where is Matilda? Ah, here she comes, all happy and radiant.”

Matilda made for an impressive sight. In addition to her turquoise colored hair, her face was covered in blue face paint and her eyes were made up so that there was no doubt, the diva was a total diva.

“Okay, come on! Come here, my darling! Turn around!”

Victor beckoned to the wardrobe-mistress, who was holding a huge pink bow, the kind those women used to wear on the backs of old-fashioned dresses.

“Just a second! We’re just going to dress you up a bit!”

Scarcely having glimpsed the bow, Matilda jumped backwards waving her hands about.

“No, no! Are you mad?“

“You don’t understand! Look at it! It’s huge, pink and beautiful!” said Victor admiring his invention. “It matches the color of your shoes. It is perfect!”

“I’m not wearing that… gaudy thing!”

“But we’re dancing the twist. Now you’ll have something to twirl!”

“It stinks! What am I, a doll?”

“Of course! You’re my living doll!”

“Stand still.” Paying no attention to the diva’s moans, the wardrobe-mistress fastened the bow to the belt just above her bottom. The other actors surrounded Matilda, trying to calm her down.

“Don’t worry Matilda, it really suits you!”

“It looks really interesting!”

“It’s fantastic!”

“Gorgeous!”

Eventually, they managed to convince her.

“Tili, sweetheart, you look very, very beautiful!” Victor said, still trying to persuade her.

“Very, super-very?”

“Yes, yes. And you’re so clever!”

“What is it you want from me now?”

“We’re having a teeny-weeny problem. We can’t decide on the special effects for the floor and walls. Nothing is quite right. Any ideas?”

Despite the fact that the diva gave the impression of being frivolous by nature, she had an extraordinary mind and saw many things from her own unique point of view, sometimes too much so.

“You don’t need any special effects. Let’s just have a mirror floor and make the walls mirrors, too. They’ll give a reflection of the whole dance group…”

“Your bow too!”

“Stop it. That was not what I meant. If everything is in mirrors, something interesting might happen.”

“Ok, we’ll try it. Max, run the transformer, we’re turning the whole stage into a mirror.”

“A… A-all of it?”

“Yup. the floor, the walls, everything. Ok, attention people, in your places!” said Victor turning to the others. “Ready? Jugglers, acrobats, go! Music, go! Cameras, let’s go!”

And at that, the previously chaotic, motley crowd suddenly came together transformed, moving smoothly and stylishly, as if the scene had been rehearsed a thousand times before. And of course, the diva was at the very center of the action, charmingly twirling her bow.

In that moment, all the mirrors seemed to sparkle simultaneously and Matilda, on whom the camera was focused, was lit up in a flash of bright light. She continued moving to the beat of the music as a green mist engulfed her from all sides. Dumbfounded, Matilda stopped dancing. The mist quickly dissipated but the space around her was filled with a mirage of blue sand and yellow sky. Matilda’s eyesight seemed to go dim. She was alone inside the mirage which was slowly floating right through her. She could hear music playing somewhere in the distance. Then the mirage dissolved and in its place, Matilda was surrounded by gray figures, moving about as if dancing the same dance that was being performed on the stage just moments ago. The figures were dressed in gray, shapeless, hooded robes, their faces obscure and blurred. The music faded and was replaced by a glassy chime. The figures froze and stared at Matilda perplexed. Matilda looked back at them in horror.

* * *

Emerging from their stupor, the gray figures rushed at the poor woman shouting.

“Synthetic maid! Synthetic maid!”

“Eat heo! Eat heo!”

Matilda’s legs buckled and she fainted before the figures had time to pounce.