Faulty Wiring

There was no real reason he told me about his abilities. We were just bored, and he had that small factoid about himself. I mean, I’ve heard every story about people who could move things with their minds. I’ve seen James Randi expose about a thousand people as frauds. This guy, though, told me he could do it.

“If that’s true, why don’t I see you going to bars, float a quarter or some shit, and take a few ladies home?”

“Well, it’s really not the party trick you think it is. It requires… interesting conditions.”

“Like what?”

At that moment he stood up went into the other room of his apartment. The next moment, back from the 90s, he brought a boombox. He sticks in the tape, the soundtrack of Koyaanisqatsi.

“God, that movie was so boring. Nothing happened!”

“Say what you will, but the music was fantastic.”

He turns on the tape. Track 5, Vessels.

He spoke to me, as if he had been waiting his whole life for someone to listen to the music with him. “Do you hear that? Isn’t it amazing?”

I listened, and found myself just as bored as when watching the movie. “What does this have to do with the… moving stuff?”

“It doesn’t. It’s the next track where the whole… thing kicks in.”

I waited awkwardly for a few minutes while he relaxed to the music. Then, he sat up straight and started talking.

“Listen, this is important. What you’re about to see… will not be pleasant. It’s important that you don’t freak out. Do you have something? Like, a small object? A coin?”

I reached in my pocket and grabbed a pencil. He took it and placed it in front of him. He looked at it very closely. He took a few breaths, and the next track started.

Track 6, Pruit Igoe.

0:00, The man extended his arm and held it above the pencil on the table.
0:42, The man’s fingers start waving ever so slightly, as if they’re floating on a cloud.
1:40, He closes his eyes, and starts taking deep breaths.
So far, nothing’s too impressive. I become bored, and zone out.
2:01, His hand stops floating, but becomes rigid, and starts shaking ever so slightly.
2:32, His fingers lock suddenly as the tempo changes, the tips of his fingers bow and shake back and forth, as if he was having a seizure.
2:36, His whole hand starts shaking violently at the wrist, as if it wants to escape his body, and his arm is holding it back.
I look at the man’s face. His eyebrows are raised, as his eyes convey intense focus and anger.
3:12, The man’s head starts shaking violently too.
3:24, He stops a moment to take a breath, as if his attempt failed, but he immediately extends his hand again to try again. His fingers try moving, but seem to be failing, like a broken down machine.
3:36, His hand starts moving again, but this time, the hand movement is different. His fingers move in a disjointed pattern, as if each individual finger has a mind of its own. The movement is very nerve-racking.
3:42, His extended hand flips over, and continues the movement. I look at his face. He appears to be in pain, but, following his instructions, I tried to keep calm.
3:52, His whole arm, and his head start violently shaking. His teeth are clenched, and I can almost hear them creaking under the strain.
The muscles come out from his neck, and his eyes are clenched shut.
4:36, His upper body starts going into spasms, but his arm remains elevated above the pencil. For the first time, I notice his other hand. It’s not moving. His legs are not moving. It’s almost as if all the energy in his body is being focused into his hand.
5:04, His head suddenly shakes much less. His eyes are no longer staring at the pencil, but off into the distance. They look like they’re in intense agony.
5:24, The man screams, but makes no noise. His body starts convulsing again, more furiously than ever.
5:52, The man looks back for the last time at the pencil. I have never witnessed such a thing in my life.
5:59, He throws his arm toward his body. The pencil flies across the table and hits a wall. He collapses on the floor. I jump out of the chair, to see if he’s ok.

His eyes have rolled into the back of his head. He manages to ask, “Did I do it?”

“Yeah,” I utter in a sigh of relief. “I can see why you don’t do that at parties.”

Having done the impossible, the man decided to spend the rest of the song laying on the floor.