The Old Genie Hottabych

AN UNUSUAL EVENT AT THE MOVIES

A triumphant Hottabych dragged Volka up the stairs to the second-floor foyer. At the entrance to the projection room stood Zhenya Bogorad, the envy of every pupil of 6B. This darling of fate was the theatre manager’s nephew and therefore permitted to attend evening performances. But today, instead of being the happiest of boys, he was suffering terribly. He was suffering from loneliness. He was dying to have a companion, someone he could talk to about Volka Kostylkov’s behaviour at the morning’s geography examination. Alas! There was not a familiar face in sight.

He then decided to go downstairs, in the hope that Luck would send him someone. At the landing he was nearly knocked off his feet by an old man in a white suit and embroidered morocco slippers who was dragging along — whom do you think? — Volka Kostylkov, in person! For reasons unknown, Volka was covering his face with his hands.

“Volka!” Bogorad shouted happily. “Kostylkov!”

Unlike Zhenya, Volka did not seem at all pleased at the encounter. In fact, he even pretended not to have recognized his best friend. He darted into the thick of the crowd which stood listening to an orchestra while awaiting the next showing.

“Don’t think I care!” Zhenya said in an offended tone and went off to buy an ice-cream.

That is why he didn’t see the people gathering round the strange old man and Volka. Later, when he tried to push his way through to the spot which was attracting so many eager eyes, his friend was already surrounded by a rapidly-growing crowd. He could hear the folding seats hitting against the backs of the chairs as those who were listening to the orchestra rushed off. Soon the musicians were playing to rows of empty seats.

“What happened?” Zhenya asked, vainly trying to elbow his way through. “If there’s been an accident, I can phone for help. My uncle’s the manager here. What’s the matter?”

But no one seemed to know what the matter was. And, since hardly anyone could see anything and everyone wanted to know what was going on inside the circle, they all kept asking each other questions and demanding sensible answers, until they raised such a ruckus they began to drown out the music, though the musicians were playing as loud as they could.

Zhenya’s uncle finally appeared, climbed on a chair and shouted, “Everyone please disperse! What’s the matter? Haven’t you ever seen a bearded child before?”

The moment these words reached the snack bar, everyone there rushed to see the bearded child.

“Volka!” Zhenya yelled at the top of his voice, despairing of ever getting through the crowd. “I can’t see anything! Can you see? Does he have a big beard?”

“Golly!” the unfortunate Volka wailed. “What if he…”

“Poor child!” the curious onlookers sighed.

“What a pity!”

“Is science helpless in his case?”

At first, Hottabych misunderstood the attention his young friend was attracting. He thought the people were crowding round to express their respect for Volka. Then he began to get angry.

“Disperse, my good people!” he shouted, drowning out the noise of the crowd and the band. “Disperse, or I’ll do something terrible to all of you!”

A timid girl gasped from fear, but the others only laughed. Really now, what was there to fear from such a funny old man in silly pink slippers? Why, if someone as much as touched him, he’d probably fall to pieces!

No, no one took his threats seriously. However, the old man was used to having people tremble at his words. He felt that he and Volka were being insulted and was becoming more and more enraged. There is no telling how it all could have ended, if the first bell had not rung just then.

The doors to the projection room were thrown open and everyone rushed to take their seats. Zhenya thought this was his chance to get a peek at the weird boy. But the same crowd that had blocked his view now caught him up and carried him into the projection room.

No sooner had he found a seat in the first row than the lights went out.

“Whew!” Zhenya breathed. “Just in time. I’ll still be able to see the bearded boy on the way out.” Nonetheless, he kept fidgeting in his seat, trying to catch a glimpse of the freak who was sitting somewhere behind him.

“Stop fidgeting! You’re bothering us!” the man next to him said. “Sit still!” However, to his utter amazement, the fidgety boy suddenly disappeared.

Volka and Hottabych were the last to enter the darkened projection room. To tell the truth, Volka was so upset he was ready to leave without seeing the film.

Hottabych pleaded:

“If you’re so displeased with the beard I thought you’d appreciate, I’ll free you of it the moment we find our seats. That’s easy enough. Let’s follow the others in, for I’m impatient to discover what a ‘movie’ is. It must indeed be something wonderful, if even grown men attend it on such a hot summer day!”

When they were seated, Hottabych snapped the fingers of his left hand. Contrary to his promises, nothing happened to Volka’s beard.

“Why is it taking you so long? Remember how you boasted!”

“I wasn’t boasting, O most wonderful of 6B pupils. Fortunately, I changed my mind in time. If you don’t have a beard, you’ll be turned out of the movie which is so dear to your heart.”

It soon became clear that this was merely a cunning excuse. Volka was not yet aware of the old man’s craftiness.

“That’s all right, they won’t turn me out of here,” he said.

Hottabych pretended not to have heard him. Volka repeated his words. Once again, Hottabych played deaf. Then Volka raised his voice:

“Hassan Abdurrakhman ibn Hottab!”

“I’m listening, O my young master,” the old man answered obediently.

“Sh-h-h!” someone hissed.

Volka continued in a whisper, bending close to his friend who suddenly looked very sad.

“Do something to make this stupid beard disappear immediately!”

“It’s not a bit stupid,” the old man whispered back. “It is a most grand and noble beard.”

“This very second! Do you hear? This very second!”

“I hear and I obey,” Hottabych muttered and began whispering again, snapping his fingers.

The hairy growth on Volka’s face remained unchanged.

“Well?”

“One moment, O most blessed Volka ibn Alyosha,” the old man replied, still whispering and snapping his fingers nervously.

The beard on Volka’s chin remained where it was.

“Look! Look who’s sitting in the ninth row!” Volka whispered, forgetting his great misfortune for the moment.

As far as Hottabych could see, the two men in the ninth row appeared in no way remarkable.

“They’re famous actors,” Volka explained and told Hottabych their names, which, though they were very well known, meant nothing to him.

“Do you mean they’re performers?” the old man asked condescendingly. “Are they tight-rope walkers?”

“They’re movie actors! They’re the most famous movie actors, that’s who they are!”

“Then why aren’t they doing anything? Why are they sitting back doing nothing?” Hottabych demanded critically. “They’re probably very lazy performers. It pains me to see you praising them so thoughtlessly, O movie of my heart.”

“Ha, ha!” Volka laughed. “Movie actors never act in a theatre. Movie actors act in studios.”

“Does that mean we are going to see some others, and not movie actors, perform?”

“No, we’ll see movie actors. Don’t you understand, they act in a studio, but we see their acting here, in a theatre. Why, any child knows that.”

“Pray forgive me, but what you’re saying is a lot of nonsense,” Hottabych reproached him sternly. “However, I’m not angry at you, because I don’t think you meant to play a trick on your most obedient servant. You seem to be affected by the heat in this building. Unfortunately, I don’t see a single window which could be opened to let in some fresh air.”

Volka realized that in the few remaining minutes before the beginning of the film he would never be able to explain a movie actor’s work to the old man. He decided to put off all explanations till later, and especially since he suddenly recalled his terrible misfortune.

“Dear, dear Hottabych, it’s really no trouble to you — please, can’t you do something right now?”

The old man heaved a sigh, yanked a hair from his beard, then a second, and a third, and, finally, in great anger, a whole bunch together. He began tearing them to bits savagely, muttering something with his eyes fixed on Volka’s face. There was no change whatsoever. Then Hottabych began snapping his fingers in the most varied combinations: first two fingers at a time, then all five fingers of the right hand, then the left hand, then all ten fingers together, then once with the right and twice with the left, then the other way round — but all to no avail. Finally, he began ripping off his clothes.

“Are you mad?” Volka cried. “What’re you doing?”

“Woe is me!” Hottabych replied in a whisper and began scratching his face. “Woe is me! The centuries I spent in that accursed vessel have — alas! — left their mark! A lack of practice has been extremely detrimental to my profession. Forgive me, O my young saviour, but I can do nothing with your beard! O woe is me, poor Genie Hassan Abdurrakhman ibn Hottab that I am!”

“What are you whispering?” Volka asked. “Say it louder, I can’t make out a word.”

And Hottabych replied, tearing at his clothes:

“O most treasured of youths, O most pleasing of all, do not vent your rightful anger upon me! I cannot rid you of your beard! I forgot how to do it!”

“Have a heart!” someone hissed. “You’ll talk it all over at home. You’re bothering us. Do you want me to call the usher?”

“Such disgrace has fallen upon my old head!” Hottabych whimpered. “To forget such simple magic! And who is it that forgot it? Me, Hassan Abdurrakhman ibn Hottab, the most powerful of all Genies — me, the very same Hassan Abdurrakhman ibn Hottab whom even Sulayman son of David (on the twain be peace!) could not subdue for twenty years!”

“Stop whining!” Volka whispered with unconcealed scorn. “Tell me honestly: how much longer will I have to go around with this beard?”

“Oh, calm your fears, my young master! Luckily, I only used small magic. In two days your face will be as smooth as that of a new-born babe. Perhaps I’ll even remember how to break small magic spells before that.”

Just then, the many credits which usually precede a film flashed off the screen and were replaced by people who moved and spoke. Hottabych whispered smugly:

“Hm! This is all quite clear. And very simple. All these people have appeared through the wall. You can’t surprise me with that sort of stuff. I can do that myself.”

“You don’t understand a thing,” Volka said with a smile, upon hearing such nonsense. “If you really want to know, films are based on the principle…”

There was hissing from all sides now, and Volka’s explanations were cut short. For a moment Hottabych seemed entranced. Then he began squirming nervously, turning round ever so often to look at the ninth row and the two movie actors sitting there. He became convinced that they were sitting quietly behind him and, at the same time, galloping at top speed in front of him on the only lighted wall in this most mysterious building.

He became pale with fear. He raised his eyebrows and whispered, “Look behind us, O fearless Volka ibn Alyosha!”

“Sure, those are the actors. They play the leads and have come to see how the audience likes their acting.”

“I don’t like it!” Hottabych informed him quickly. “I don’t like people to split in two. Even I don’t know how to sit in a chair with my arms folded and gallop away as fast as the wind — and all at one and the same time! Even Sulayman, son of David (on the twain be peace!), could not do such a thing. And that’s why I’m frightened.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Volka said patronizingly. “Look at everyone else. See? No one’s afraid. I’ll explain what it’s all about later.”

Suddenly, the mighty roar of a locomotive cut through the stillness. Hottabych grabbed Volka’s arm.

“O royal Volka!” he whispered, breaking out in a cold sweat. “I recognize that voice. It’s the voice of Jirjis, the ruler of all Genies! Let’s flee before it’s too late!”

“What nonsense! Sit still! Nothing’s threatening us.”

“I hear and I obey,” Hottabych mumbled obediently, though he continued to tremble.

But a split-second later, when a thundering locomotive seemed to be rushing off the screen and right into the audience, a scream of terror rent the projection room.

“Let’s flee! Let’s flee!” Hottabych shrieked as he dashed off.

At the exit he remembered about Volka and in several leaps returned, grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him to the door.

“Let’s flee, O Volka ibn Alyosha! Let’s flee before it’s too late!”

“Now, wait a minute. …” the usher began, appearing in front of them. However, she immediately did a long, graceful loop in the air and landed on the stage in front of the screen.

“What were you screeching about? What was all the panic about?” Volka asked angrily when they were out in the street again.

“How can I help shouting when the most terrifying of all dangers was threatening you! The great Jirjis, son of Rejmus, grandson of the Aunt of Ikrash, was heading straight for us, spitting fire and death!”

“What Jirjis? Which aunt? It was just an ordinary locomotive!”

“Has my young master decided to teach his old Genie Hassan Abdurrakhman ibn Hottab what a Shaitan is?” Hottabych asked acidly.

Volka realized that it would take much more than five minutes and much more than an hour to tell him what a movie and a locomotive were.

After Hottabych recovered his breath, he asked mildly, “What would you desire now, O treasured apple of my eye?”

“As if you didn’t know. I want to get rid of my beard!”

“Alas,” the old man sighed, “I am as yet helpless to fulfil your wish. But perhaps you’d like something else instead? Just tell me, and you’ll have it in a flash.”

“I’d like to have a shave. And as quickly as possible.” A few minutes later they entered a barbershop. Ten minutes later a tired barber stuck his head into the waiting room and shouted:

“Next!”

Then, from a corner near the coat-rack, rose a boy whose face was wrapped in an expensive silk scarf. He hurriedly sat down in the barber’s chair.

“You want a hair-cut?” the barber asked. “No, a shave!” the boy answered in a hollow voice and removed the scarf that had covered most of his face.