"You're not telling me you’re actually going to leave all this scientific equipment of yours for a whole night and go out on a date!” Jo was both shocked and suspicious.
“Really, Jo! A woman's life is in danger and all you can think about is romance."
"But, Doctor. You never leave your laboratory these days. Not unless there’s something BIG going on. And then you usually take me with you.”
The Doctor and his assistant Jo Grant were in the Doctor’s laboratory at UNIT headquarters and just for once the Doctor wasn't fiddling with the aforementioned instruments. In fact he was viewing himself in a small handheld mirror smiling with satisfaction at what he saw.
The Doctor’s pleasure was interrupted by the ring of the phone. Jo answered it. Then handed the receiver over to the Doctor.
"Hello, Ah Ophelia! (Pause) Well I'm sorry to hear that. (Pause) Well of course you must go. Yes, I agree, the conference sounds more important. Don't worry I'll be fine. I’ll take
Miss Grant she’ll be delighted.”
“Chakra? Is that her name? It is! You want me to take Chakra instead of you.” Jo sighed.
“But don't you think it’s a bit dangerous. What with all these threats you've been getting?"
"Threats?" repeated Jo.
"Well, of course I’m not scared. And you have my promise I’ll keep her safe."
The Doctor handed the receiver back to Jo.
“I’m sorry, Jo. But Ophelia is determined to convert this student of hers to a more rational way of mind. And seeing as I have almost turned you into a scientist, I think I better do as Doctor Hart says and take Chakra with me instead.”
Jo knew when she was beat. She had indeed made intellectual progress since the day she’d first joined UNIT and become the “Doctor’s new assistant.” No longer spoiling experiments, or so easily hypnotised, she no longer had to ask so many questions. Indeed, she was often obliged to clarity the Doctor’s explanations to a bewildered Brigadier.
The magician raised his staff and touched the ruby on his dark blue turban. A ray of light shot out of the ruby and the turban burst into flames. Slowly, unhurriedly the mystic untied the silken knots of the turban while a halo of flames bathed his enraptured face. The Doctor was reminded of a wounded man removing his bandages. The flames did not even touch the mystic's skin.
The audience gasped as the turban continuously unwound itself in never-ending ropes of endlessly unravelling blue.
“It’s like a picture by Escher,” gasped the Doctor. 'Time and space around the fakir's head has folded back upon itself in an infinite loop."
The flames were hypnotic. Chakra felt as if she was falling into a vortex of impossible colours while complex geometric shapes spun round her.
Eventually the flames died and all that was left of the beautiful silk turban was a rather ordinary looking rope.
They had arrived late but the show had been worth it. Two hours of magic, clairvoyance and card tricks. Girls danced: their gorgeous silks billowing about them. A viper swayed to the music of a snake charmer. But the true star of the Night of the Orient was the fabulous Illusionist.
But a hush fell upon the audience when the Illusionist took to the stage. For now it was time for the Indian Rope Trick.
The trick began with a rope being tossed into the air. The rope rose up as far as the eye could see - then stopped - as if it had hooked itself onto the ether. There it hung with nothing visible to support it in total defiance of gravity!
There were cheers and claps of applause but this amazing performance of the Indian Rope Trick wasn't over yet.
A small boy came onto the stage and swarmed up the rope. He waved upon reaching the summit then disappeared.
"Turbulent Turbans!" cried the Time Lord.
"Where's the boy gone, Doc?" asked Chakra mystified.
The Doctor looked on in horror. This was no ordinary conjuring trick. The Time Lord could sense the damage to space-time as hidden dimensions unfurled and merged. Universal constants changed at the speed of thought. The Doctor knew deep inside that any cosmic chaos was no trick.
Moments passed. The boy did not reappear complete but when he did it was as so many separated body parts dropping down onto the stage. The only mercy was that the parts didn’t look real and it could all be passed off as just part of the act. Head, arms, legs, and torso soon lay lifeless upon the stage: right in front of the stupefied audience.
A woman fainted. Some of the audience started to believe the worse then the Illusionist threw a cloth over the boy's remains and after muttering a few words in Hindustani, he restored the dismembered boy to life.
Relief swept through the audience. Gasps turned to laughter. The youth and the magician bowed then said their goodnight. The show was over.
As they pushed their way through the crowd leaving the theatre, Chakra asked the Doctor why he still looked so concerned
“That boy's all right, isn't he, Doc?"
"Yes I suppose you could say he is all right. If you call coming back six months older being all right."
"What you mean it’s different boy!"
"My dear, Chakra! That was the same boy, I tell you. Something terrible has happened here tonight. When the Illusionist unwound his turban he was unwinding the universe."
