"I shall now select my Empress!" he said, looking down on the cowering
people. "Let the first woman who dares rise to her feet claim her mate
and her throne!"
A moment passed, and then a ballerina arose, swaying like a willow.
Harrison plucked the mental handicap from her ear, snapped off her
physical handicaps with marvelous delicacy. Last of all he removed
her mask.
She was blindingly beautiful.
"Now-" said Harrison, taking her hand, "shall we show the people
the meaning of the word dance? Music!" he commanded.
The musicians scrambled back into their chairs, and Harrison
stripped them of their handicaps, too. "Play your best," he told
them, "and I'll make you barons and dukes and earls."
The music began. It was normal at first-cheap, silly, false. But
Harrison snatched two musicians from their chairs, waved them
like batons as he sang the music as he wanted it played. He
slammed them back into their chairs.
The music began again and was much improved.
Harrison and his
Empress merely
listened to the music
for a while-listened
gravely, as though
synchronizing their
heartbeats with it.
They shifted their
weights to their toes.
Harrison placed his
big hands on the
girls tiny waist,
letting her sense the
weightlessness that
would soon be hers.
And then, in an
explosion of joy
and grace, into the
air they sprang!
Not only were the
laws of the land
abandoned, but the
law of gravity and
the laws of motion
as well.