Moving Pictures

University. Having to haul around extra poundage was far too much effort, so he saw to it that he never put it on and he kept himself in trim because doing things with decent muscles was far less effort than trying to achieve things with bags of flab.
    So he brought one hand around in a backhanded swipe. It didn’t just connect, it lifted the mugger off his feet.
    Then he looked for the prospective victim, who was still cowering against the wall.
    “I hope you’re not hurt,” he said.
    “Don’t move!”
    “I wasn’t going to,” said Victor.
    The figure advanced from the shadows. It had a package under one arm, and its hands were held in front of its face in an odd gesture, each forefinger and thumb extended at right angles and then fitted together, so that the man’s little weaselly eyes appeared to be looking out through a frame.
    He’s probably warding off the Evil Eye, Victor thought. He looks like a wizard, with all those symbols on his dress.
    “Amazing!” said the man, squinting through his fingers.
    “Just turn your head slightly, will you? Great! Pity about the nose, but I expect we can do something about that.”
    He stepped forward and tried to put his arm around Victor’s shoulders. “It’s lucky for you,” he said, “that you met me.”
    “It is?” said Victor, who had been thinking it was the other way around.
    “You’re just the type I’m looking for,” said the man.
    “Sorry,” said Victor. “I thought you were being robbed.”
    “He was after this,” said the man, patting the package under his arm. It rang like a gong. “Wouldn’t have done him any good, though.”
    “Not worth anything?” said Victor.
    “Priceless.”
    “That’s all right then,” said Victor.
    The man gave up trying to reach across both of Victor’s shoulders, which were quite broad, and settled for just one of them.
    “But a lot of people would be disappointed,” he said.
    “Now, look. You stand well. Good profile. Listen, lad, how would you like to be in moving pictures?”
    “Er,” said Victor. “No. I don’t think so.”
    The man gaped at him.
    “You did hear what I said, didn’t you?” he said. “Moving pictures?”
    “Yes.”
    “Everyone wants to be in moving pictures!”
    “No, thanks,” said Victor, politely. “I’m sure it’s a worthwhile job, but moving pictures doesn’t sound very interesting to me.”
    “I’m talking about moving pictures !”
    “Yes,” said Victor mildly. “I heard you.”
    The man shook his head. “Well,” he said, “you’ve made my day. First time in weeks I’ve met someone who isn’t desperate to get into moving pictures. I thought everyone wanted to get into moving pictures. I thought as soon as I saw you: he’ll be expecting a job in moving pictures for this night’s work.”
    “Thanks all the same,” said Victor. “But I don’t think I’d take to it.”
    “Well, I owe you something.” The little man fumbled in a pocket and produced a card. Victor took it. It read:
    Thomas Silverfish
    Interesting and Instructive Kinematography
One and Two Reelers
Nearly non-explosive Stock
    1, Holy Wood
    “That’s if ever you change your mind,” he said. “Everyone in Holy Wood knows me.”
    Victor stared at the card. “Thank you,” he said vaguely. “Er. Are you a wizard?”
    Silverfish glared at him.
    “Whatever made you think that?” he snapped.
    “You’re wearing a dress with magic symbols—”
    “ Magic symbols? Look closely, boy! These are certainly not the credulous symbols of a ridiculous and outmoded belief system! These are the badges of an enlightened craft whose clear, new dawn is just…er, dawning! Magic symbols!” he finished, in tones of withering scorn. “And it’s a robe, not a dress,” he added.
    Victor peered at the collection of stars and crescent moons and things. The badges of an enlightened craft whose new dawn was just dawning looked just like the credulous symbols of a ridiculous and outmoded belief system to him, but this was probably not the time to say so.
    “Sorry,” he said again. “Couldn’t see them clearly.”
    “I’m an alchemist,” said Silverfish, only slightly mollified.
    “Oh, lead into gold, that sort of thing,” said Victor.
    “Not lead, lad. Light . It doesn’t work with lead. Light into gold…”
    “Really?” said Victor politely, as Silverfish started to set up a tripod in the middle of the plaza.
    A small crowd was collecting. A small crowd collected very easily in