Like Magic

Yuri was a young officer. The only calls Yuri received were from his mother. He was the oldest son, but young in the eyes of the world. He fit awkwardly into his uniform: his wrists poked out beyond the cuffs of his shirts and yet his feet and boots were small in comparison to the rest of his body.

When Yuri was summoned on a Saturday morning, not to take a call from his mother, but to meet with his commanding officer, he rushed into the briefing room. Tracking mud from the shoddy boardwalk between the mess hall and the intelligence building, Yuri nearly slipped on the linoleum floor. He entered the briefing room. He was greeted by one officer, Alexy. Yuri stood at attention. He saluted. A ripping sound came from Yuri. His elbow, in flexing to salute, had torn a hole in his uniform.

“At ease,” Alexy said. “They just don’t make ‘em like they used to.”

“Yes, sir,” Yuri said. “The uniform is not well-fitted, sir.”

“I wasn’t talking about the uniform. Sit down.”

Alexy rolled a map up. He pressed the stray edges back into the main coil as he rolled. Behind Alexy were three framed photos. In each one, there was a consistent character: a man dressed in all black, with a top hat and mustache, smiling. In two of the photos, the man had his arm around some children. In just one of the photos, he held a rabbit by its ears. 

“Are you familiar with magic,” Alexy asked. He opened a drawer in the desk. He retrieved a cigar, a cigar cutter, and a butane torch small enough to pocket. 

“No, sir,” Yuri said. “I am familiar with the concept, but I don’t know how it works.”

Alexy clipped the cigar with the cutters. The snipping, followed by the gentle thud of the cigar piece falling on the map, filled the room with sound other than breathing and the two officers’ hoarse voices.

“All magic is,” Alexy said, lighting the cigar with the butane torch, “is deception.” Alexy pulled on the cigar as he moved the blue flame away. He began puffing. Great plumes of smoke issued forth, rolling across the air like the dust from a collapsing building.

“It’s about subverting expectations,” Alexy added. “While I’m doing one thing over here, you’re busy thinking about something else.” Alexy continued to pull on the cigar, truly filling the room with the cloying smoke. Yuri wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to cough. Both Yuri and Alexy began to fade into the fog. Neither man could fully comprehend the outline of the other. They were like two islands in that briefing room, separated by a sea of fog.

“And while your brain is working on this distraction,” Alexy said. “I’ve already made my magic.” Alexy turned on a fan at his desk. The air flow blew smoke away from Alexy. After only three seconds, the cigar smoke began dissipating, swirling into oblivion. When it cleared, Yuri saw Alexy holding a bouquet of flowers between his fingers. Yuri smiled. Yuri smiled and clapped.