Mr. Mortok's Hall of Curiosities

The Dancing Doll

     I was at a time in my life where I felt that there wasn't much left for me to achieve, that I'd reached the end of any real hope for further happiness or fulfillment. I wouldn't say that I was extremely wealthy, but I did not have any real want for money either. I had inherited a sizable amount of money when my father and mother were killed in a terrible accident. The life insurance policy was quite extravagant and this inheritance left me ensured I would not have want for very much in my life. I have never had to truly struggle or suffer in my life outside of the loss of my parents. And they, while I have fond memories of them, were not exactly as "present" as one would hope. A sad truth, but a truth none-the-less. I adjusted disturbingly fast to being on my own and came into my full wealth at age 18 when my grandfather had to release it to me.

     I have never served in the military; never had to work hard for my daily bread. I have received a very fine education but it was merely a way to pass the time. The company my family owns is run by a chair of board members and while I am chairman, my role is ceremonial. I am good with money, that I can say with pride, I ensured my education allowed me to learn the value of what I had. I did not want to make bad choices and squander away my fortune, as I have heard others have done.

     No, mine was a calm and rational life. I have very few excesses; I have very few wants, and as such, I find that I have difficulty with women. If they aren't drawn to my wealth, it is the illusion of a jet setter lifestyle and dinners on yachts. I admit to owning such a boat, but more as a social symbol than any true use that I would derive from such a vessel. As for my interests, I have a passion for poetry and other fine arts, a strong desire for the written word and plays. It is in this I find my passions soaring. There is not much that can move me as strongly as the well crafted sentence, the exquisite beauty of a well executed dance. These are what stirred my soul. I would say by no means do I shun the comforts of women who do not hold these interests. However, I desire very much to find the right woman and settle down and share my passions and thoughts with her. Alas, I have not yet been able to find a woman that can hold my interest.

     Even the most bookish of women I would eventually I tire of, or they of me. I have been told that I am robotic, that I am distant, that I lack a certain amount of humanity that others have. Perhaps they are right. I cannot say that I feel robotic, or that I feel inhuman. I feel the same as I assume anyone else does. It is simply harder to stir my passions. The last woman I was with told me she wished that I looked at her with the same kind of adoration as I did the ballet. In an attempt to lighten the mood, I suggested that she learn to dance. She left me the next day.

     It is in this mood and lowered spirits that I found Ivan's Amazing Dancing Dolls. It was a production tucked away along the strip that seemed to have quite a following. It did not have any significant advertisements, almost as if this Ivan person did not care if the world saw his production. It intrigued and delighted me. It made me wish to know what could be so amazing about these dancing dolls. What could be so spectacular about these dancers that it was almost in secret that one had to see them? I purchased my ticket immediately and cheered at my good fortune to have found tickets left for the show.

     The hall I was ushered into was larger than I assumed and most of the other patrons of the show were quite well-to-do. They were patrons I recognized from some of the lesser known but truly great shows that I have had the fortune to be invited to or to have discovered myself. The lights dimmed and the murmur of the crowd died down to an expectant hush. I felt my body thrum with excitement and I stared straight ahead, not wanting to miss a moment of the introduction, a part of the plays and dances that admittedly I usually allow my mind to wander during.

     There was no introduction. There was no description of what the performance would be. The curtain raised and on the stage stood seven beautiful women; perhaps the most beautiful women that I had ever seen in my life. Each with lovely alabaster skin, each with beautifully painted red lips. As one, they bowed at the waist and then began the dance.