The Weight of Ascension

The Great Caligari’s finale is a miracle—he floats untethered above the stage, defying gravity while the audience weeps with wonder. High in the suffocating heat of the catwalks, I work the silent pulleys, the unseen spider to his golden butterfly. We recently renovated the VIP box; the mirror is one-way, and the soundproofing is absolute. Critics praise how light Caligari looks, but they don't understand the law of equivalent exchange. For the angel to rise, the walls must be heavy. And lately, the 'ballast' has been rotting too fast to keep the scales balanced.