Mr. Mortok's Hall of Curiosities

Interlude #3

     "I have often wondered," Mr. Mortok says as he puffs at his pipe, "what is the price of love?" He eyes the tools and the little tag and taps at his chin. "What are the lengths and depths that someone is willing to go through if they love someone? And how badly does it hurt when that love is not returned?"

     The crowd nods along as well, contemplating. Thinking. Some of the couples look at each other uneasily, as if the question weighs on their mind. As if they are contemplating being in little Adam's shoes. What would they do in that situation? What would they do to protect their family, if they HAD to protect their family? So many questions.

     "Worry not though," says Mr. Mortok with a knowing smile, "I'm sure that all of us are rational adults, and after all, this is just a curiosity, a small oddity." A sigh of relief washes through the crowd. Of course there is no need to think about it. Still, the lovers in the crowd by unspoken agreement, disengage each other's hands. An imperceptible distance settles between them as the tour continues.

     This time they are led to a small stand with a simple embossed card and a single tape player, old and archaic. The card is a lovely blue, the color of comfortable dreams, and in soft ivory letters it reads simply, "The Blue Room." Mr. Mortok leans over the rope and presses play on the tape recorder, filling the small alcove with the lovely wordless vocalizations of a beautiful voice. The woman's voice stirs something immediately in the crowd and once again the lovers hold hands, the distance dissolving between them. For some of the brave ones, they dare to slip their hands into the hands of pretty strangers and are rewarded when the object of their temporary affection does not draw away. The tape is scratchy and obviously old. It has been played so many times and probably will be played so many more. Yet the small audio imperfections do not seem to bother the crowd, and does not detract from the magic of her voice and the peace of the piano accompaniment.

     "Let me tell you," Mr. Mortok says softly, "about a unique club. About a place that is very private, very exclusive, and very, very interesting."