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LJ Idol Exhibit B.6: Out of the blue...
Alice Lance's first day of work at Munro Associates was a grueling grind. It involved an extensive series of tests designed to assess not only the young woman's skill in handling playing cards, but also her overall dexterity, her skills at misdirection, calculation, and memory, and her physical endurance and resourcefulness. She scored at or near the top of all these categories, as well as in several others whose precise nature was known only to George Munro, the head of the company.
Alice had been among those who had responded to a call for—believe it or not—close-up magicians, and in fact, a good dozen of the other applicants who had shown up for the unconventional "interview" eventually landed well-paying jobs through Munro, performing magic at high-end bars and restaurants around the country. Alice's career, however, was directed along a different track.
"Ms. Lance," said George Munro after introducing himself, "your talents show quite a bit of promise for what we have in mind for you. Have you ever heard of 'gambling detectives'?"
Alice pursed her lips. "I've read about them, somewhere—they used to catch cheaters in various games of chance, didn't they?"
"Exactly correct!" said Munro. "Except they are still used for that purpose. In fact, uncovering cheats is a lucrative part of our, uh, business model."
"But what can a gambling detectives do in today's world, with all of the technical resources available to find crooks?" asked Alice, with genuine curiosity.
"Indeed, young woman," said Munro, "it is precisely the advent of all this high tech sophistication that has driven gambling criminals to return to basics—the false shuffle, the palmed card, the crimped corner, and cards dealt from anywhere but the top of the deck. As it turns out, these skills are, basically, those of top-flight close-up card magicians, and we train candidates who have such skills, such as yourself, to detect others engaged in dishonest play. Are you interested?" Alice was.
And so began the hardest year of Alice's life, during which she assimilated a tremendous amount of technique. Double and triple lifts, setups, passes, second and bottom deals, forces, one-off shifts, every kind of deceptive shuffle imaginable (including one of her own devising), and more were mastered to a breadth and depth that would have been the envy of the finest card magicians of all time.
Early during her training, when Alice expressed concern that she was learning how to be a card cheat rather than how to uncover card cheats, Munro reassured her. "Learning how to cheat is the best training for learning how to catch a cheater. Just keep in mind you're not focusing on identifying false moves, but on learning how to perform them so well that anyone less skilled who tries to pull them off will stand out like the proverbial sore thumb. I'm convinced these skills are beneficial to you in many ways for this job." Then he added, as an afterthought, "Just don't get any ideas, okay?"
All throughout the year, as her skills were honed to a razor edge, technicians collected data on Alice's performance, which George Munro reviewed weekly. At the end of the year, Munro called Alice into his office.
"We've got a little test lined up for you, Alice," said Munro. "There's a weekly game held downtown that attracts out-of-towners, some of whom invariably consider the game a golden opportunity to cheat. We want you to attend the game this coming Friday night with Archer—whose job it will be to stay in the background and provide muscle, in case you need it—and I'll want you to report to me the next morning regarding what you saw, felt, and so on. Any questions?" Alice had none.
As far as Alice could tell, the test was a complete fiasco. Everything felt wrong from the moment she entered the suite in which the game was being held. Specifically, Alice felt that everyone knew who she was and why she was there, and she told Munro exactly that the following day. Archer was entirely too relaxed, she added. He wasn't paying attention to much of anything. To add insult to injury, everything she had seen the night before seemed perfectly above board. Everyone played honestly; nobody tried to cheat.
Munro steepled his fingers as he considered Alice in a new light. In over twenty years of sifting the dozen or so candidates that had gotten this far, most had correctly reported that no cheating had occurred at the game. However, only Alice had, in effect, tumbled to the fact—and just how was only beginning to dawn on Munro—that the "Friday night game" was a complete setup on the part of Munro Associates, as it was staffed by employees from a small subsidiary Munro had set up to, among other things, test "graduates" like Alice.
As he mentally reviewed Alice Lance's performance over the past year in this new light—especially her ability to misdirect, where she repeatedly demonstrated a knowledge of precisely the moment when her audience was most vulnerable to distraction—Munro came to the sudden realization that the young woman sitting in front of him was more special than anyone could imagine.
For you see, Alice Lance had become, without knowing it, far more than a skilled card mechanic with finely tuned instincts. What her training had done, concluded Munro, was unlock some deeper abilities in her mind. And if any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, then so is any sufficiently advanced human ability.
In effect, Alice Lance now actually was—for lack of a better term—a magician. What's more, she didn't know it!
How much further can she develop? wondered Munro, as he drew breath to tell Alice what she had become.
Alice had been among those who had responded to a call for—believe it or not—close-up magicians, and in fact, a good dozen of the other applicants who had shown up for the unconventional "interview" eventually landed well-paying jobs through Munro, performing magic at high-end bars and restaurants around the country. Alice's career, however, was directed along a different track.
"Ms. Lance," said George Munro after introducing himself, "your talents show quite a bit of promise for what we have in mind for you. Have you ever heard of 'gambling detectives'?"
Alice pursed her lips. "I've read about them, somewhere—they used to catch cheaters in various games of chance, didn't they?"
"Exactly correct!" said Munro. "Except they are still used for that purpose. In fact, uncovering cheats is a lucrative part of our, uh, business model."
"But what can a gambling detectives do in today's world, with all of the technical resources available to find crooks?" asked Alice, with genuine curiosity.
"Indeed, young woman," said Munro, "it is precisely the advent of all this high tech sophistication that has driven gambling criminals to return to basics—the false shuffle, the palmed card, the crimped corner, and cards dealt from anywhere but the top of the deck. As it turns out, these skills are, basically, those of top-flight close-up card magicians, and we train candidates who have such skills, such as yourself, to detect others engaged in dishonest play. Are you interested?" Alice was.
And so began the hardest year of Alice's life, during which she assimilated a tremendous amount of technique. Double and triple lifts, setups, passes, second and bottom deals, forces, one-off shifts, every kind of deceptive shuffle imaginable (including one of her own devising), and more were mastered to a breadth and depth that would have been the envy of the finest card magicians of all time.
Early during her training, when Alice expressed concern that she was learning how to be a card cheat rather than how to uncover card cheats, Munro reassured her. "Learning how to cheat is the best training for learning how to catch a cheater. Just keep in mind you're not focusing on identifying false moves, but on learning how to perform them so well that anyone less skilled who tries to pull them off will stand out like the proverbial sore thumb. I'm convinced these skills are beneficial to you in many ways for this job." Then he added, as an afterthought, "Just don't get any ideas, okay?"
All throughout the year, as her skills were honed to a razor edge, technicians collected data on Alice's performance, which George Munro reviewed weekly. At the end of the year, Munro called Alice into his office.
"We've got a little test lined up for you, Alice," said Munro. "There's a weekly game held downtown that attracts out-of-towners, some of whom invariably consider the game a golden opportunity to cheat. We want you to attend the game this coming Friday night with Archer—whose job it will be to stay in the background and provide muscle, in case you need it—and I'll want you to report to me the next morning regarding what you saw, felt, and so on. Any questions?" Alice had none.
As far as Alice could tell, the test was a complete fiasco. Everything felt wrong from the moment she entered the suite in which the game was being held. Specifically, Alice felt that everyone knew who she was and why she was there, and she told Munro exactly that the following day. Archer was entirely too relaxed, she added. He wasn't paying attention to much of anything. To add insult to injury, everything she had seen the night before seemed perfectly above board. Everyone played honestly; nobody tried to cheat.
Munro steepled his fingers as he considered Alice in a new light. In over twenty years of sifting the dozen or so candidates that had gotten this far, most had correctly reported that no cheating had occurred at the game. However, only Alice had, in effect, tumbled to the fact—and just how was only beginning to dawn on Munro—that the "Friday night game" was a complete setup on the part of Munro Associates, as it was staffed by employees from a small subsidiary Munro had set up to, among other things, test "graduates" like Alice.
As he mentally reviewed Alice Lance's performance over the past year in this new light—especially her ability to misdirect, where she repeatedly demonstrated a knowledge of precisely the moment when her audience was most vulnerable to distraction—Munro came to the sudden realization that the young woman sitting in front of him was more special than anyone could imagine.
For you see, Alice Lance had become, without knowing it, far more than a skilled card mechanic with finely tuned instincts. What her training had done, concluded Munro, was unlock some deeper abilities in her mind. And if any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, then so is any sufficiently advanced human ability.
In effect, Alice Lance now actually was—for lack of a better term—a magician. What's more, she didn't know it!
How much further can she develop? wondered Munro, as he drew breath to tell Alice what she had become.
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The story does sort of cry out for a continuation, doesn't it?
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In the context of a longer story (which I agree, this story begs to be), there are some rough edges, but one does what one can.
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Shortly after posting, I got the idea that I had basically (and without realizing it) regurgitated the character in The Mentalist, and while what I have in mind is similar, I'm looking to move a whole lot closer to the paranormal with Alice, without actually crossing the line (or maybe sorta-kinda crossing it from time to time).
I'm a big fan of Penn and Teller, and love what they did with the cups and balls (although a lot of old-line magicians hate them for it). Teller—when he can be persuaded to talk—says things that are interesting. His "Miser's Dream" is beautiful.
Thanks for reading.
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Not that, perhaps, it still might. ;)
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The whole idea (which I apparently failed to convey) is that, in the course of events, Alice has not become a "potential" magician, but a "true" magician, in the sense of having developed a sort of "superpower" that allows her to maximize her effect.
There's a lot of ideas afloat, here.
Thanks for reading!
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There's quite a bit that can be done with this, I agree.
Cheers...
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Cheers...
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Thanks for the comment.
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