S ettling among the others in the Phantasmagoria event, I see a big truck spurting out big chunks of fire in the air. The flames are thick and light up the night, high enough not to hurt anyone. However, the angle makes our shadows visible on the enormous wall we’re looking at.
I am still not sure what this event or game is.
“Phantasmagoria is one of Lewis’s craziest poems,” the Pillar says, sounding festive like everyone else. “No one really knows what it means, but it’s also the name of a form of theatre in France in the 18th century, and late in England in the 19th century. A very interesting and well known one actually.”
“Theatre? The name sounds like something scary.”
“It is, actually. The Phantasmagoria theatre used a modified magic lantern to project frightening images onto the walls.”
“Frightening as in...?”
“Skeletons, ghosts, and so forth. It happens all the time. Haven’t you ever been to the beach and had the campfire reflect your shadow in scary forms?”
“I haven’t been to the beach,” I say. “But I get the idea.”
“Some artists used semi-transparent screens, frequently using rear projection later,” the Pillar says. “The projector was mobile, allowing the images on the wall to change size on the screen, which, in our current case, will be the wall in front of us.”
Glad to know what the wall is for. Also, I know the fire behind us is meant to cast our shadows on the wall now.
“Of course, there are many variations of the practice,” the Pillar says. “Some were able to cast quick switching images to tell a short story, to show a girl run from a ghost. It was much loved in its time.”
“And we’re going to play it here now, with the fire reflecting our shadows?”
“Not just the fire, the hookahs’ smoke too. You can either use the smoke to manipulate the image or to add another layer. Be creative.”
We start to stand in line next to one another, facing the wall. I’m starting to sweat heavily. The area is getting hotter because of the fire, never mind the Brazilian humidity.
But I am rather enjoying this. The reflections on the walls are funny. People bend their bodies, stretch their arms, and sometimes use an external element to manipulate the shapes on the wall. There is a man whose reflection is a big duck. Another makes his body look like a boat. It’s brilliant. I think the kids would have enjoyed this.
The Pillar borrows a few balloons from others and manipulates his image into a caterpillar sitting atop a mushroom. People go crazy when they see that. They love it.
“Now, that’s something special.” The Pillar winks at me.
“I wish the caterpillar was real,” a little girl comments. “I love him.”
“He loves you too, darling.” The Pillar smiles.
“How do you know?” The girl pouts. “You’re not the caterpillar.”
I burst out laughing. The Pillar’s cheeks redden.
We keep on watching others. Three men manipulate the image into three dogs eating peanuts. I tilt my head back to the Pillar for an explanation.
“They all know the Queen of England eats their precious nuts here,” he says. “None are left for the masses, so they have to make fun of her.”
“Uh-huh. So I am still lost at that something special idea. I see most people are doing incredible things. What could be more special than that?”
“I have no idea,” the Pillar says. “We have to think of something that would attract a man who just cooked a plague to kill everyone on the other side of the world.”
I have no idea what that could be. It occurs to me that I don’t know anything about Scientisto. “I wonder if the Scientist is also a Wonderlander.”
“A very plausible assumption.” The Pillar looks impressed. “But, I don’t know of a scientist in Wonderland.”
“Let’s just say he is.” I have a dangerous idea in my mind.
“Okay. Let’s just say that. So what? Are you going to manipulate your image into writing Wonderland on the wall?”
“No,” I say. “In fact, I don’t need to manipulate anything.”
The Pillar stops his moves and stares at me. It’s that look again in his eyes when he admires my actions. “You have my undivided attention and heart-pounding anticipation.”
I smile and slip my hands into the Pillar’s pocket, pulling out the key.