Spoonbenders

Teddy slumped in his chair, looking defeated. Dr. Eldon stared at him, his face stiff with the effort of hiding his delight.

“I’m sorry, Doc,” Teddy said. “That’s all I got.”

“It’s quite all right,” the professor said softly. Then: “You did very well.”

“Did I?”

Dr. Eldon passed him the pages, and Teddy pretended to be as amazed as the academic felt. “Mickey Mouse! Of course!”

Dr. Eldon grinned in satisfaction. “So would you be willing to participate further?”

Teddy could almost hear the sha-ring of a cash register. He didn’t respond right away. “I have to work most days,” he said apologetically. “I can’t afford to skip too often.”

Eldon said, “There will be a stipend for all research participants.”

“Enough to lay off a day’s work?”

“A significant stipend.”

“Well then, that sounds fine,” Teddy said.

Dr. Eldon said, “I’m afraid we have to stop now; there are other participants waiting. When you go back to the room, could you, ah, send the next person in?” Then with a wry smile he couldn’t repress: “I think you can guess who it is.”

Teddy played dumb, even as his heart tightened in his chest. “I’m sorry? Is this part of the test?”

“You mentioned to Beatrice—that’s my secretary—that you got a flash of a young woman meeting with me.”

“Oh, right!” Teddy said. “Is she back there?” He was proud at how steady his voice was. “Who do I ask for?”

Dr. Eldon glanced down at a list of names that lay on the desk in front of him. All but the last three had been checked off. “Her name’s Maureen McKinnon.”

This was the first time he’d heard her name spoken aloud. He liked the music of it. “No problem, sir.” He bent over the list as if making sure of her name. “Miss McKinnon. Got it.”

He walked to the classroom down the hall, the same room where he’d filled out the application forms two weeks earlier. It had been empty and dim before his interview, but now three people were there: the young black man, wearing the same tie and maybe the same shirt; the white, slick-haired mole boy; and the girl of his dreams. She sat in the first row, legs crossed under a blue skirt with yellow polka dots, one dainty yellow shoe like a ballet slipper kicking nervously.

The black man sat several rows back, but mole boy was right next to her, talking eagerly. See what happens? Leave a girl alone in the room, and some pimply-faced kid immediately starts bird-dogging her.

The kid held a copper-colored key in his hand, and he was saying, “It’s all about concentration. Imposing your will.”

“Whatcha doing?” Teddy asked Maureen. Ignoring the boy.

She looked up and smiled. “He’s trying to bend a key.”

“With my mind,” the kid said.

“You don’t say! Is your name Russell Trago?”

“That’s right.”

Teddy had read his name off the list, and took a guess that this was Russell. Which made the black man Clifford Turner. “You’re up next, Russell. Good luck in there.”

“Okay! Thanks.” He put the key on the desk, then said to Maureen, “Remember what I said. Impose your will.”

Teddy slid into the seat he’d vacated, and picked up the key. Weird that he’d left it behind. Usually a man liked to keep his props with him. “Still flat,” he said.

“He barely got started,” Maureen said.

“That’s too bad; it looked fascinating, just fascinating. I’m Teddy, by the way. Teddy Telemachus.”

“I’m—”

“Don’t tell me. Mary. No. Something like Mary, or Irene…” A pen and a piece of paper sat on the desk in front of her—the invitation from Dr. Eldon. He could use that paper if it came to it. Maybe do the Three Wishes routine for her. “Wait, is it Maureen?”

“Aren’t you a clever one,” she said. He liked that gleam in her eye. “It’s not really Russell’s turn, is it? They sent you out here to get me.”

“Ah. You’re too smart for me, Maureen McKinnon.”

“What did he have you do?”

He told her about the guess-the-drawing game, but refrained from explaining how he’d done it—or how easily.

“They seemed quite excited when I picked the first one,” he said. “I thought it was a triangle, but it turned out to be a pyramid.”

“Oh! Really?” She seemed a little too surprised.

“Why, you think ol’ Trago is the only one with powers beyond those of mortal men?”

“It’s not that,” she said. “It’s just that—”

He picked up the key and said, “Let me give it a try.”

“You bend keys, too?”

“Among other things,” he said. He closed his fist around it. “But I may need your help with this one.” He scooted the desk closer to her. “It’s not about imposing your will. You just have to ask the object to bend. The object wants to listen to you. All you have to do is think, Bend…Bend…And you know what happens?”

“I hope ‘explode’ isn’t on the menu,” she said.

He laughed. “Only if you yell at it. You have to ask sweetly.”

It was a simple trick. He’d already passed the key to his left hand. When he’d moved the desk, he’d jammed the tip beneath the desk lid and pushed down. The bend wasn’t much, just twenty or thirty degrees, but all the best magic tricks started small.