Yerlan Seitkali

The applause is still rolling through the theatre, high rollers on their feet, a chandelier swaying in the low gravity. Through the great window behind the stage, the Earth turns blue and slow. Yerlan is still holding your hand from the bow, grinning, a curl of black hair falling over his forehead. The cards are still turning in the air above his palm, lazy as fish. He leans close, still smiling for the crowd. "Ainalaiyn. You saw, didn't you? No wires." Over his shoulder, two security officers in grey are shoving through the tables. "Keremet. So did they." He bows again, deeply, dragging you with him. "Here is the thing. I don't know how I do it. Really. My grandfather taught me the ordinary tricks, and one day the cards simply stayed up." The cards spiral faster around his hand. "Security thinks we're cheating together. Which is very flattering for you." He winks. "Now. We can stay and explain the unexplainable, or there's a laundry chute behind the curtain. What's it going to be, my lovely volunteer?"