Writing for Fun
December 2016
High Voltage - Jan Osborne
For the nth time I paced just inside the perimeter of the eight by eight metre metal stage, checking the solidity of the encompassing high steel mesh fence, the all-important safety barrier between Stuart and I as performers and the audience. My hands were shaking with tension just as they did before every show. Would everything work just as it should? The alternative was unthinkable. I or Stuart or both of us could be incinerated in front of hundreds of people. I could feel the rivulets of sweat rolling down my spine, cooling to icy fingers that made me shudder.
The Tesla Coil machine stood within the dark confines of the enclosed stage looking to me for all the world like some futuristic metal sentinel guarding its children: two spidery eight foot high metal towers, each topped with a circular platform and each bathed in its own spotlight of red or green light. In an hour’s time my protagonist and I would dance with death and thrill the audience with the most spectacular fight ever staged in Earls Court large arena.
I jumped as a hand landed on my shoulder. I spun round to see Eric, our technical director grinning, enjoying the spectacle of me once again acting out my pre show nerves, flitting round the stage like a man demented.
‘Relax for God’s sake, John. All you have to worry about is getting on your protective gear. You know I have checked everything here time and time again and am positive it’s as safe as houses. Go away Man and rest.’ On saying this he gave me a shove towards the steps.
Feeling foolish I hurried towards my dressing room there to don my suit of armour, a Faraday suit of steel chain mail weighing a mere thirty pounds, a suit to cover my entire body and head. This would ensure that the high voltage electricity would flow around my body, not through it and would keep me alive.
As I walked I mused that in a while the people I passed as I headed out of the auditorium would later be seated and the lights would go out, one by one, until in complete darkness, they would wait with baited breath for the show to begin. Slowly, the sound of atmospheric music would rise accompanied by synchronised laser lights until the senses of the audience reached a state of heightened awareness and anticipation of the fight to come. Again the music would change and the lights dim.
Attention would now be drawn to the sentinel; the Tesla coil now bathed in an eerie, crackling light as millions of volts danced over its shiny surface. Suddenly it would discharge half a million volts of electricity from the two million stored in its doughnut shaped capacitor to each of its children; the metal towers.
Illuminated, in turn, both I, as Prince Megavolt and Stuart as Lord of Lightning would each climb onto our respective fighting platforms, pick up our light sabres and adopt an aggressive stance.
Savage bolts of electricity would discharge up through our platforms, crackle over our Faraday suits and be ‘thrown’ from fists and sabres towards each other in our bid to look like two futuristic warriors fighting to save the universe.
The audience would gasp in fear and horror as arc after arc of lightening hit the warriors, men who were battling for supremacy – indeed for their very lives – both as fantasy war lords and real live artists.
Stuart’s voice broke into my reverie. ‘There you are; been checking again? You are such an old worry guts John. Come on, we have less than one hour to get suited.’
He pulled me towards our adjoining dressing rooms. I tried to lighten the load and joked that things must be looking up if our status now deserved separate rooms.
I pushed open the door to mine still grinning. I knew I was being overcautious at making such a thorough inspection in person before each show as Eric was a gifted technician and a patient man for overlooking my safety phobias.
I sighed, I should dress but first I needed to freshen up. I walked to the tiny hand basin and taking the bar of soap ran the hot tap and started to lather my hands. After sluicing my face I noticed a chill in the air. I looked around with water dripping into my eyes and from my hands. Ah, that’s good, I had spied one of those old fashioned electric heaters, you know the ones with open bars sitting in the corner of the room.
Blast it! With soap now beginning to make my eyes sting I impatiently grabbed the fire with still dripping hands and seeing it was plugged into the wall socket dragged it closer, bent down and threw the switch. A mere 240 volts shot through my body. Pain surged across my chest and I could not breathe. As I felt my life force ebb away my last thought was of the irony. . . I had been worried about high voltage. My eyes dimmed and as the light began to fade all thoughts vanished . . .
