Annabelle asked if I would do the light-bearing trick for the children, convinced that after capturing certain sequences in the back of the eye a road would be paved for the delivery of education, and I am supposedly a practicioner of the edumacational arts, so I told her I would be delighted, just as soon as I changed into my Wisdom Suit. I always felt putting on the weight of my prior scholars presented a suitable gravitas, this skin of velvet and parchment and the dry rattle of glands stitched around the mouthhole, where the students suckled and whispered and listened for a sign. From the surveillance cameras I appeared more of a tent, a crawling polyp in cerulean velour with metal spigots and eyepieces by which the children could see within the Wisdom Suit to the hiding place where I performed the...well, Annabelle would call it a trick. I am not certain. If a trick is a promise of this and a giving of that then what isn't a trick? And if I can be said to be a scholar than I have taught these hollowheaded scarecrow kids that what you see is not what you get, and what you see is not what you see, and what you get is not what you get, and there is no you to see and no you to get and not potential of seeing or getting or no thought such concepts can be wound around, so it would be disingenuous at best to to call the light-bearing a trick. I shook the left hand and the children who belonged to the left hand shook in sympathy, a bone-shiver at thirtyone hertz, and I shook the right hand and the children who belonged to the right hand sought out the tremor, the teeth-chattering cicada murmur at thirtytwo hertz, and Annabelle blew through straws to flicker the lanterns, the shadows crossing the horizons within the Wisdom Suit, and this then is where the shimmer gets in, for it was only moments before each child was struck sick with a calling, a binding of each child to each celestial intelligence which was then haloed around the overgrown fontenelle, a tether to heaven, and now each child had a frequency, and a location, and a call. I removed the Wisdom Suit and retired with Annabelle to the Teacher's Lounge, for the tiny students no longer needed us to watch them as they slept on their tiny bathtowels, and our primitive attempts to fool the children into giving up gastric treasures were corrected: now bound, the children would happily offer up these components as a cat leaves the lesser half of a bird on a doorstep.

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