Copyright J.B. Norman
“My latest play is resolved, of course, in the Ancient Elven theatrical tradition of the deus ex machina,” Sandford Whitehead explains. “A term that could perhaps best be translated as god delivered by crane.”
“Well,” Kat mutters, “that explains the crane.”
“And you, my dear girl,” the dramatist continues happily, “are the god in question. You, in the guise of Pherais, shall descend from the very heavens, alight upon the earth and foster concord between two feuding families. For who could refuse the commands of a goddess?”
“Well,” Kat muses, “at least I don’t have to be a dude again.”
“Honestly,” Sandford says. “I don’t know why you’re still so worked up about that. You were an utterly sublime Jacobus.”
Kat glares at him.
Sandford clears his throat.
“And, so, it’s only right and proper that we give the crane a test run,” he says. “We can’t have you plummeting to the stage in front of a live audience.”
“I shouldn’t be plummeting at all,” Kat counters.
“Now,” Sandford says, turning to Amara. “If you’d be so good as to help Kat into the harness.”
“Just keep your hands where I can see them,” Kat tells Amara.
“Oh hush, Katherine,” Amara says. “You’re making this whole thing sound so sordid and unseemly.”
What follows is several minutes of knots being tied and untied, clasps being clasped and unclasped, and general unpleasantness.
“And now,” Amara says, “I do believe all I have to do is cinch this.”
She tugs on part of the harness. Kat hisses as she suddenly loses the ability to breathe.
“Hmm,” Amara says. “Perhaps that was rather too cinched.”
She makes a few adjustments.
“There,” she declares. “Katherine, I do believe you are now securely harnessed and yet in no danger of being crushed.”
“Thanks,” Kat murmurs.
“Very good,” Sandford says.
He looks up at the stagehands operating the crane.
“Commence the lifting,” he says.
“Wait,” Kat protests, “You can’t just — Gaaaah!”
Kat promptly finds herself being flung skywards and left to dangle.
“Sorry,” one of the stagehands mutters. “It’s our first day.”
“Valiant first attempt,” Sandford says. “Though let’s try for a more gentle, graceful ascent lads.”
The stagehands nods.
“And now,” Sandford says. “Let’s try the descent.”
Kat glances over to the stagehands.
“If you drop me,” she warns them. “There’s going to be trouble. I swear, I’ll — Gaaaah!”
“Slow it down, lads,” Sandford calls.
Kat soon goes from being catapulted to the ground to falling with the gentle grace of a fluttering snowflake.
She wobbles unsteadily when she’s back on the stage, but she has to admit that the stagehands did a very good job of not damaging her in any significant way. She looks up at them.
“Keep this up, and I’m buying you two fish-on-a-sticks,” she tells them.
The two stagehands high-five.
“And I just volunteered because I wanted to operate a crane!” one of them exclaims. “I didn’t even consider that I’d get a free dinner out of it!”
“Excellent,” Sandford declares. “Let’s get you unharnessed so we can try it again while you’re in costume.”
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