THE MORIBUND SPECTACLE

The faintest note of a motion, easily detected, twice as pronounced, had set

him into a slumber, deep and unconscious. His eyes had lidded sensibly shut, body

stilling and then going as still as stone as it lay on the table. The assistant had

checked each of his vitals, going from pulse to pulse, while Valimar Petroulli, the

master of the “sleeper spell” stood with his hand raised aloft, for added effect, as the

crowd watched in silence. Tonight the seats were filled and the hall was brim to

capacity with educators, gentry, physicians, and lookers of every sort who had

gathered to watch.

The process had begun by taking a “case in study” or “sample patient” and

laying them out on a table, covered up, mostly from the shoulders down, in a small,

scarlet curtain. When the grand curtain rose, Petroulli would take a bow and give

several words of introduction while his assistant brought out the participant, who

he often introduced as a John, Joe, or James-something from upper Boston, York, or

else someplace out of country.

“Tonight” announced Petroulli, in a note of sweeping conviction, “we present

to you the most miraculous of illusion.” He gestured towards several electric wires

that were hooked up to the table. One by one the assistant began to fasten them to

the participant, placing a series of special conductors around the ears, which were

joined together by harness, and others around the wrists, legs, and ankles. Petroulli

had developed such a practiced sense of anatomy that he knew exactly where to

place each one.

“A man before you lies yet alive and breathing” he went on. “Yet soon,

through the method of suggestion he will sleep in an unconscious state only similar

to that of a corpse. Those of your learned medical persuasion may pronounce him

dead. I will endeavor,” he waved his hand about the stage, “through this power of

suggestion to rest our dear participant.” He poked his hands in his pockets. “And

then arise him, once more, through a process only known by the most trained of

practitioners.” He turned now to address his participant. “Will you rise now and give

a conscious gesture?” The patient sat upright, giving a light and innocent smile.

“Will you tell them your name?” instructed Petroulli.

“Henri” answered the participant.

“We are going to lay you to rest, Henri. Mind you, for only a very short time.

From which you will awake on my instruction.” After this he performed his

hypnosis, through several gestures and commands, setting the participant into first

a conscious rest and then, very gradually, an unconscious one. His body stilled under

suggestion and then moved no more. After this Petroulli instructed his assistant to

check the vital signs, each of which was recorded lifeless. He then went through the

motion of calling several medics on stage to investigate the “dead man.” Three

doctors checked the body for pulses, then heartbeat, and recorded likewise, from

their professional findings that the participant was indeed dead. During this time

the crowd was all in whispers; some mingled with marked suspicion, while others

were solely convinced of the “horror” the mad magician had just conducted.

One final inspection set all suspicion to rest. This was when Valimar Petroulli,

in his usual habit of show and spectacle, instructed the last doctor to “lift the

participant’s hand, very clearly for all to see,” which he did without question, and

then “release the hand,” allowing it to drop limp and lifelessly to the side of the

table. At this a collective gasp rose throughout the theatre. A smile crossed

Petroulli’s lips as he found he had won their conviction.

“The man, you see, is dead” he announced.