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.Vaudevilliput: Story in 10 acts (& Intermission)	By : keithcompany Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Gulliver's Travels Views: 1437 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work fiction,based on Gullivers Travels by Jonathan Swift.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
There was a delay between Nine and Ten. Nine was a complicated set to break down (read: A Real Adjective Mess), Ten had to be set up just right. A few of the performers suggested additional or lengthier segues to pad the break.
“I dunno,” I replied. "I’d rather figure ways to speed the change, instead of pad the time between the climaxing acts.”
A man whose face I didn’t recognize stepped up. From his poise and grace, though, he just had to be the juggler from Spanning Spinners. The five or six tiny women hanging on him like living jewelry didn’t hurt the identification. “Sir, I’m Tomas…a moment?” he asked.
“I’m not sir, just ‘Director.’ What’s up? Oh, and great act.”
“Thanks…” he seemed surprised, and a little uncomfortable, by the fact I figured out who he was. When you spend your public life in a mask, you may come to enjoy the privacy offstage. Whoops. One of the ladies on his shoulder, though, offered a deep bow, acknowledging my compliment.
“Well, some of the others and I wanted to take the opportunity to thank Mr. Cradden for his work on this show, and between Nine and Ten seemed a perfect time, since we need to pad the break anyway…” He drifted off to silence at the sight of my face. I tried to make sure he didn’t misunderstand my reaction.
“Okay, don’t misunderstand me. I don’t think that we really want to break the flow of the acts right there. We can have the whole cast take a bow after Ten, and thank him then, or ask for prayers for swift recovery, or whatever.” He still didn’t seem convinced.
“Then try this. You’ve been working with John for a while, now. At any point, did he suggest to you that his need for attention was greater than his love of a perfect performance?” His eyes went wide at that. The woman on his ear did a double back flip to his shoulder, then down to his hand. He caught her automatically. I shook my head and went on, speaking loud enough to be sure that more than a few people heard me.
“If he was healthy enough to judge, and you offered him a personal, non-performing spot right then, what do you think he’d do? Thank you or throw something at you?”
The woman in his hand made some gesture, he tossed her in the air, she flipped onto my desk.
“Biggie shouter our hides he threaten would!” she told me. “’Hands and bloody fool compassion the hell from my show you keep!’ he shouting shall.” I dipped my head in salute. She knew John as well as I did.
Tomas seemed mollified, collected his gymnast, and took a seat in the front row. Almost all the performers were out in the theatre proper. The bank of tiny viewing boxes in the front had scattered groups of Lilliputians, the humans were equally spread through the other seats.
Finally the curtain rose. Act Ten: Dance of a Hundred Veils.
It seemed to be the inside of a Sultan’s palace. Lots of cushions, silks, and a great big harp to one side.
No one was visible, when suddenly the harp started to play.
At a closer look, there was a tiny person dangling behind the wires. He or she was dressed in dark black, hanging from a string like someone rappelling down a building. They swung from wire to wire, striking some with a foot to plink a note, landing sometimes to absorb the vibration with their feet. After a few notes played slowly in this manner, a single figure was lowered on the audience side.
This one’s movements matched the other’s, so any string pinched between their feet dampened quickly, one kicked by both thrummed. They sped the tempo a bit. Then slowly, ever so slowly, more pairs of harpists were lowered from above. They swung back and forth, never colliding, never entangling, never missing a note.
You’ve seen the performances by Little Borge? Eighty-eight pianists at one keyboard, cooperating in numbers no larger performers could match, playing complex tunes beyond human ken…
Well, if you’ve ever watched or listened to harp music, imagine the same multiplier effect on that. The resulting tune made an orchestra out of this one instrument. I was floating on a sea of music.
Then the real act started.
One of the silk cushions stood up. It turned out to be a woman, in harem pants and bodice, covered in veils. She started to dance to the music. She was a perfect match to the tiny people’s performance.
But there was something wrong with her. Oh, she was beautiful, what we could see of her. And her eyes were dark violet pools, winking out at us. The figure was fine, her steps technically perfect, her agility mind blowing…
Finally, I realized that nothing shook. Not butt, not breasts, not stomach…they moved and swung, but were unnaturally taut.
Then she started dropping the veils and that bothered me. She wasn’t plucking them free, she would pose and one would fall off, as if it were escaping.
I remembered where I was, then, and examined the veils more closely, half expecting to see a tiny person using each as a chute….but no, nothing there.
She worked her way from side to side, from veil to veil, until she was down to just shorts and top, and the last veil from her face fell.
There was a pause, a smile for the audience, and then she shook her hands. When she did, her fingers flew off like the veils had. They were foam, falling to bounce on the stage.
There was some sort of armature left behind, that had supported and directed the fingers.
I was shocked.
The whole point of bringing back vaudeville in the first place had been people that were tired of tech. In a live performance, by living people, with no camera in the way, you weren’t supposed to have to figure out if it was an android or a special effect!
She took her hand off, then, in the manner of a stripper removing her gloves. Inside the wire cage left after the foam went, a tiny woman, also dressed as a harem girl, worked ribbons to move the fingers. She caused her hand to grip the other one and peel off the foam there. Another woman rode that hand.
It was a giant marionette!
“She” continued to strip off pieces of foam while I marveled at the genius behind it. It was the opposite of Lilliputian ventriloquist trying to work a human puppet. No human effort could ever equal this.
Lilliputian muscle to mass ratio makes terribly strong people. The average tiny person can lift several times their own weight. Pound for pound, a Lilliputian in good health makes a human weightlifter look like a cream filled donut.
If humans built a wicker man like this wire cage, by the time the materials were sufficient to hold them up, it’d be beyond human capacity to make them move. This couldn’t have been easy, but it was just barely possible for the women to make it work.
Lilliputian women manned each joint on the dancing girl, with a few more in the chest, legs, calves using ropes and pulleys to lift, step and shimmy around. All dressed as houris.
Finally, she was down to her head, looming large over the assembly of workers and wires below.
The hands tugged the hair away, the ears, the side of the head. All that was left was the face.
The head turned to the side, and inside the skull was Bonniettae. She was wearing the same traditional Fuscan performer suit from her act with Clyde, with a handful of ribbons connecting her to the face.
That face turned back to the audience. The music stopped.
Then, with perfectly natural expression, down to lip and teeth movements, the face told us: “The cast and crew of Vaudevilliput your time appreciate, you attention true thank, and your applause savor. For coming we thank, your enjoyment we fervent hopely.” The head bowed towards the floor. Behind the face, we could see Bonniettae again. She looked out at us, raised one arm to indicate the ribbon tied to it.
“Out of levers, for sure, this the hell beats, don’t it!?!”
- 9
- 10
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.Vaudevilliput: Story in 10 acts (& Intermission)