Believing
the Fortune
The fortune teller’s tent just
up the road from Melia’s work was a constant source of gossip. One or another
of her workmates went there and had their fortune told. Then – gasp! – it came
true. Sort of, sometimes. Often enough it was a relative or a friend of a
friend who went their instead. Oddly enough, those who took it most seriously
had never actually been.
In Melia’s opinion it was a bit
of harmless fun. What she found strange was that the man was living in a tent
on a vacant block – apparently he lived in the back part. Did he own the land?
Was it comfortable living without plumbing? Maybe the tent hid a house inside
it? It did seem quite big.
Wondering about the fortune
teller and his tent was a habit for Melia. She could see the tent from her desk
on the second level. When she was tired and working late she’d stare at it,
wondering how it turned into one big blue blob before rubbing her eyes.
One such evening she decided to
go get her fortune told on a whim. It was only eight p.m. so the fortune teller
would still be open; she knew his hours from the gossip. When her tired mind
caught up with her – regretting, along the way, how late she had stayed up the
night before – she was already mostly there and decided it was harmless anyway.
Outside the tent she saw the
main thing about the fortune teller she found amusing. His name (according to
the sign) was Hugo Magnifico. Patently ridiculous and it made him sound more
like a magician than a fortune teller. According to gossip his last name was
actually Smith, to boot.
Melia made her way inside the
tent carefully, her eyes adjusting from the dying light outside to the warm
electric glow of the light inside. The room she entered was about four metres
across and empty apart from two chairs, a round table and the tall deck of
cards upon it. A faint chime rang through the room as she entered. Going by
what her workmates had said she sat down at the table and waited.
A minute later a man emerged
from the far side of the room, slipping between the fabric ‘door’ of the tent.
He was bald, and dressed quite ordinarily apart from a cape. “Good evening,” he
said, taking a seat. “I am Hugo Magnifico, fortune teller. Twenty dollars for a
short reading, or thirty dollars for a long one.”
“I’ll take the long reading,”
said Melia. She shifted in her seat so her long skirt wasn’t hiking up.
“Very well,” said Hugo. He reached
forwards and grabbed the cards. “The first couple of cards are for me. They’ll
let me know if you’re going to try and skip out on the fee, amongst other
things. Your name?”
“Melia,” said Melia. “I work up
the street in the Mega Co. administrative office.”
“Oh, was I recommended?” he
asked. “I keep getting told that I have been, but only a handful of people
wander down.”
“There’s a lot of gossip,” said
Melia. She had to stop herself from sighing when she realised it would’ve been
fun to see if he could ‘predict’ the truth.
“An honest one,” said Hugo,
looking at Melia with a smile. He set the deck down and then ran his hand up
and down it a couple of times. After a while he selected a card.
“Hm,” he said, staring at the
card. He set it face down in front of him, then started pulling more cards from
the deck with only a short movement between each selection. These cards he lay
face up, some closer to him and some closer to Melia.
Leaning forwards to check them
out Melia could see what looked like a forked road and a cloud of mist closer
to Hugo. Closer to her was a wide open eye, a series of concentric circles, a
large X with some writing beneath it, and a raindrop. Or maybe a tear?
Hugo sighed. “What I do when I
tell a fortune is read events in someone’s future. Usually I can read a few
because nothing too big and important happens,” he said. “But your future is
dominated by something.
“According to the cards here”- he indicated the two in front of him -“giving
you this reading combines the many paths this event could have led you on; yet
I still can’t see beyond it. Or even up to it. The cards in front of you
indicate that you will be a close witness to a loud tragedy with multiple
deaths.”
Melia raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
she asked. “That seems a bit… Dramatic.”
“I can ask that you believe me,
but this,” said Hugo, flipping the facedown card. On it was a picture of a robed
woman, “basically means that you won’t believe me.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t,” said
Melia. “Even if I see a tragedy in my lifetime I won’t.”
Hugo’s face became strangely
thoughtful. “Would you believe me if I gave you some more details and they were
right? I can pinpoint when it will happen, and possibly even where, but not what,”
he said.
It was something Melia had to
think about for a bit. “I guess so, especially if it’s soon,” she said. “Shouldn’t
you be asking me to try and stop it, if you’re so sure it will happen?”
“You’re the one who’ll see it –
not me. You’d have to be the one who helps,” said Hugo. He tapped the card of
the robed woman. “Cassandra here says that’s not going to happen.”
“Way to guilt trip someone,”
said Melia.
“It’s not your fault if
something does. The future says you will not grip it with the will to change
it, so you are not going to be in control when terrible things happen,” said
Hugo. He started moving his hand up and down the deck once more.
“No offence, but I really hope
you’re just a hack,” said Melia.
Hugo smiled slightly. “I hope I’ve
screwed up myself. A moment of quiet – I need to concentrate for this,” he
said.
Melia’s mind beat down the
question of ‘what-if’ with her amusement at the whole situation pretty quickly.
It allowed her to focus on watching Hugo do his thing – it was strangely
enthralling despite the simplicity of it all. No fancy light shows or smoke,
just a man, a strange deck of cards and a well-lit table.
It took around five minutes for
Hugo to pick the cards he wanted. He placed each of his selections face-down,
brushing aside the cards he had already drawn without any concern. After
picking the fourth and final card he flipped them all over. The first card was
black with white dots, the second had three lines with the smallest circled,
the third the number five and the fourth the number four.
“Well,” he said, looking at the
cards. “I might see the aftermath myself.”
“What do they mean?” asked
Melia.
Pointing at the cards in the
order he had flipped them, Hugo said, “Night, nearby, five and four should be
days so in nine days. I am almost certain it won’t be weeks.”
“That’s pretty specific,” said
Melia.
“It’s what I do,” said Hugo. He
started gathering up the cards, including those he had brushed aside, and
shuffling them back into the deck. “The charge is ten dollars. I can only see
one event so I can’t do a full reading; and I hate being the bearer of bad
news.
“Not free?” said Melia, smiling
in amusement. She pulled her wallet out of her satchel and found a ten dollar
note which she gave to Hugo.
“I thought about it, but it
seemed to cliché. Have a good night,” he said, pocketing the ten dollars and
setting his cards in the middle of the table.
“You too,” said Melia as she
rose from her seat.
On the way out she almost kicked
herself when she realised that she could have said, ‘You tell me.’
Nine days passed, and Melia was
working late again. She’d lost track of exactly when the ‘tragedy’ was supposed
to happen, although she realised it was that evening with some bemusement as
she worked. Eventually she finished work and made her way downstairs and
outside so she could head over to the train station. And then-
“Do you believe me now?” asked Hugo. Melia hadn’t heard him approach –
her attention had been focused on the accident. She’d just watched as five cars
crashed into one another, forming a scrap heap of torn metal. It had been
incredibly horrific. Bad enough that she could feel shock digging into her and forcing
her away from reality. Up until Hugo had spoken.
Melia whirled around to face Hugo. “Did you cause this?” she asked
angrily. Behind her those further up the road, closer to the accident, were
rushing to help. A man screamed in horror.
“No,” said Hugo. “Like I said, it was inevitable. I couldn’t get the
cards to tell me enough.” He ran a hand over his bald head. “I do wish I could
have stopped it."
Clenching her hands into fists,
Melia turned back to the accident. The smell of petrol was in the air although
thankfully nothing was on fire yet. The bystanders had managed to drag a few
people out of the wreckage already. One woman seemed to be missing a leg; the
others were bloody and obviously in shock.
“Do you believe me?” insisted
Hugo.
Melia breathed in deeply then
let it out slowly. As she dropped her shoulders a few short stray strands of
hair fell forwards, framing her face. “Yes. I guess so,” she said. “Does it
really matter to you that much? Right over there”- she pointed -“people are
dying. Or dead.”
“Yes. It does,” said Hugo. He
sounded happy. “I can see more than just this coming. With someone to help me I
could-“
“What?” said Melia, interrupting
Hugo.
“I could stop some things from
happening,” said Hugo. The sound of sirens came in from the distance – the emergency
services were getting close.
The bystanders had given up on
getting anyone else out before the emergency service arrived, so Melia turned
back to Hugo. “Doesn’t anyone else believe you? You must have friends,” asked
Melia.
“I did have friends, and they
did help me. But they’ve left the city. When my powers became stronger, when I
turned twenty-five, I read their deaths. The only way out was if they left. But
I can’t read yours,” said Hugo. “Which might just mean you won’t help, no
matter what.”
After a long pause, Melia said, “Maybe.
But just on weekends.”
A loud boom punctuated her
answer. Melia barely caught sight of the evaporated petrol fireball as it dissipated
into a thick black cloud of smoke, blending into the night sky. The cars seemed
undamaged by the explosion, but they were now on fire and almost impossible to
see through the smoke.
“Holy crap,” said Hugo behind
her. At least he hadn’t said ‘Good’.
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