Synopsis: A mysterious man changes Madame Olga fortunes at the county fair.
Fair-ly Fortunate
*
The county fair was everything he remembered from childhood. Bright colors, loud noises, aggressive smells, every sense bombarded with the best and worst of stimuli. The whole thing had an undertone of age and ugliness, like the overdone makeup on a vain old starlet. He nibbled on whatever in the hell it was on the stick and drank overly sweet lemonade as he strolled, taking in the full experience.
He mostly watched the people having what appeared to him to be desperate fun- trying to milk the last nice days of summer and pretending hard that the run-down fair was a major attraction.
Fascinating to watch, really.
The rides gave way to the midway games and he watched the weight guesser ply his trade for a while. He enjoyed the subtle scam the older guy ran, enticing people to his scales, faking them out with flattery, and rarely giving away any prizes. He was tempted to play along when he noticed the gaudily painted canvas advertising the fortune teller. "Madame Olga knows all, sees all, tells all!" According to the lurid prose, this aged gypsy knew the secrets of the universe and your heart and would share it with you for a paltry sum.
He brushed aside the heavy canvas of the tent's front flap, jingling a small bell, and entered a small room crowded with artifacts and fragrances. He chuckled at the items gathered around- a crystal ball sat on a table with a thick deep red table cloth. He didn't have to work hard to see that it was a plastic shell with an LED at the bottom. The thick table cloth covered a cheap stool with a plywood circle on top. The room was as fake as the ball was- a stuffed raven in one corner, tricked out with dim red LEDs in the eyes, a couple of Glade air fresheners in the corner to add the desired heavy scents, a shelf of fake books, lots of hanging 'tapestries' that looked more like garden flags. He was almost laughing in joy at the tackiness of it all. Even the small CD player in the corner playing some Gypsy-sounding music softly. It was all nicely done... if you didn't look hard... or if you did not have near god-like senses.
Madame Olga swept through another flap majestically. He could not help but notice that the back room was much more plain, and she seemed to have been playing on a laptop computer. "You vish to speak to Madame Olga, yes?" Her accent was hilariously fake and sounded more Russian than anything else. His appraisal of her was that she was 53, over-weight, in not-so-great health. She was rather short, but the flamboyant robes, turban, and jewelry she wore made more of a physical assessment difficult.
He peeked into her mind and was unsurprised that she was unexceptional in her intelligence or morality. She knew she was doing a scam, but figured that her customers were paying for the show and to be a part of the game. She felt that she offered a good value for the money, but she missed her youth when she was billed as an exotic dancer and made more in tips than she did for this gig. Even then, he noticed, she did not think she was anything special, but she was good at hiding it with padding, make-up, and other fakery.
"For five dollar, I ken read palm, yes, or cast runes, no? For ten dollar. I ken zee future in ze crystal ball, yes, or do Tarot reading, no? For tventy-five dollar Madame Olga vill do a full psychic reading unt tell everyzing." Oh, this was going to be such fun. First, that annoying fake accent had to go. He asked her to repeat herself. "Like I said, for five dollars, I will read your palm or cast runes for you. For ten, I will either read the crystal ball or do your Tarot. For twenty-five, I will do a complete psychic reading for you, hon." Ah, so much better on his ears.
He asked for the crystal ball reading and paid her the money. He saw her flick the lights on in the ball and almost snickered at how little she bothered to hide the movement any more. He was mildly impressed at the lighting effects- subtle flickers and bursts. He looked into her to see where it had come from and was somewhat surprised that she rigged it herself by breaking into a kid's toy. She may not be smart, but she was clever and creative, which is probably why she was also showing a thick streak of boredom as she gazed into the glowing globe.
She started to spout off a memorized line of the purest BS, tweaked with some intelligent guesses based on his apparent age and appearance. She guessed he was not married (no ring, by himself, etc.), concerned about his job and health, maybe the knees (as most men of about 40 would be... if he was like 'mortal' men, or even anywhere near 40.) He let her ramble on, and in fact, tweaked her a bit so she would go on without noticing that he was not really paying much attention to her words.
How to best play with this toy, he pondered. While he thought, he took care of a few incidentals. He cleared up some developing health issues; removed the bunions, warts, age spots, and so on that pestered her so much; and took care of that arthritis. She felt pleasantly warm, and was pleased that the damn meds she took were actually working for once. She wriggled a little to get comfortable and continued feeding the rube line after line of the stuff people expect- meeting new people, travelling, etc. He chuckled at how right she was without her even knowing it, and made a decision.
Madame Olga felt oh, so pleasant- like a warm ray of sun after a damp day. She did not notice her wrinkles fading, or her skin clearing up. She thought nothing of the fact that her fingers were smoother, almost blemish free. She was feeling a little like a scroll was unrolling in her mind. It was the oddest sensation she had felt in her 53 years, er, in her 48, no, 44, uh, 39 years. She shook her head briefly and shrugged her shoulders. She should not be having such confusion at 39, that was for older people. One part of her mind followed a thread of thought involving how much she did not want to be doing this forever, and wondering if maybe she could get on with the ticket takers or something. This damned tent was so stuffy, it felt like she had been in here for years.
He let her rest for a bit.. De-aging a person was stressful on the body. She had to quickly excuse herself, sweeping out in a flurry of robes. She returned a bit later more regally and much relieved, having gotten rid of a rather large load of accumulated toxins, fats, and so forth. He re-evaluated her as she settled back on her chair much more lightly. She was now 39, only a bit heavy for her height, and purged of most illnesses. Her bones were still changing, which was only normal- the bones and hair took the longest to respond to his powers.
As the bones reknit, she was getting taller and straighter. He gave a small thought and she absently removed the heavy turban and fluffed her hair. It was visibly darkening and lengthening, gaining curls, waves, and body. Her voice was younger, stronger, and had a slightly musical trill to it. On a whim, he touched her mind again and her voice picked up a hint of an exotic accent, a hint of French and a slight but sexy breathiness. So far, so good, he thought, letting her system rest for bit before getting ready for the next phase. In the meantime, he rewove her heavily-worn clothes to fit her better. Bodies and minds were easy, you set the parameters and let them run themselves. Things like fabric were tougher, and he had little power over the cold metal and jewels, even the fake glass ones she wore.
Susan was a bit confused. Her Madame Olga character was slipping. She noticed that she was not using the accent her mentor taught her, and she was wondering why she was spending so much time on the crystal ball. She should have turned this rube by now and been on to a new customer. And just what was going on with her bra? He noticed the tick in her thinking and quickly responded. He asked her for a full psychic reading and noted the small burst of happiness in her mind- she was getting a nice income from this and got to spend a little more time with the good looking man in her tent.
He almost blushed- he felt he was passable certainly, but appreciated her evaluation. In fact... she suddenly felt herself slightly embarrassed that she was getting a little aroused, but as handsome as he was, it was certainly nothing unexpected. As Madame Olga prepared the cards for the Tarot reading, he delved into her mind some more.
Susan Passelton was not much of a story. She hated her name and body. She deeply regretted most of her life choices. She left school because it was boring (and seeing it through her eyes, it was more the results of some bad teachers than anything else). She was a waitress, sales clerk, and almost a young wife before she literally ran off with the circus and the lion tamer. That did not go well predictably. Soon she was taking odd jobs in the small traveling carnival, and finding that she rather enjoyed the unusual freedom it offered. Odd jobs gave way to exotic dancing (when the town permitted it), and that gave way a few years ago to fortune telling under the tutelage of the show's old fortune teller.
