Wearing her signature hat, cape, and winning smile, Trixie shuffled the cards with her magic and rifled through them briefly before fanning them out in front of her. “Pick a card, any card; but don't let Trixie see it!” she instructed her young assistant as she dramatically looked away.
The filly nodded and slightly adjusted her party hat with a hoof. Her stance was firm and her ears pricked; she was clearly determined to fool the magician. As Trixie slid the cards from hoof to hoof, she waited until the right moment, and then stuck her hoof in quickly.
“Excellent choice!” Trixie said, sliding the card forward.
It hadn't been, really. Card forces were among the first tricks in Trixie's toolbox. Trixie had known beforehoof exactly which card she would pick (the ten of cups) because she had picked it for her. There really was no choice; Trixie had already made it for her. Magic like hers was all about illusions, such as the illusion of choice, and the illusion of control.
To help sell the second one, Trixie set the deck down on the table beside her and pulled out a permanent marker from one of her many hiding places. She pulled the cap off with her magic and held it out at the filly's eye level. “Now, just to keep Trixie honest, Trixie wants you to sign your name on the front of your card. Don't let her see it!”
The filly nodded. Wings spread in concentration, she took the offered marker in her mouth and, in her thick scrawl, signed her name across her chosen card.
“Perfect,” Trixie said, fanning the cards to let her slide it back in. Of course, that was an illusion of choice, too; she knew exactly where the card had gone. After all, she needed to know its exact position to set up part two of the trick.
Trixie shuffled the deck. That, too, was an illusion; with a few false shuffles, she had surreptitiously moved the chosen card to the top of the deck. As she did, she spoke, looking at her audience and never once needing to look down at her cards. “I’ll bet you didn’t know that even Trixie’s markers have magical powers, did you?”
The filly raised an eyebrow and shook her head. It had looked just like the markers she used in school.
“In fact…” Trixie lit her horn and lifted a large basin made of clear glass, full of water nearly up to the brim, up onto the table beside her. “Trixie’s marker will imbue the card you’ve chosen with waterproof properties. Your card, and only your card, will float on the water like a little boat.” She held up the deck demonstratively, and, with a bit of a flourish with her opposite hoof, dropped it inside.
All the cards sank instantly. That wouldn’t have been terrible… had the cards not instantly begun to dissolve.
Trixie gasped. She quickly tried to climb onto the table, rear hooves scrabbling desperately for purchase, and when she finally made it up, desperately stuck her hoof in and tried to retrieve the deck; but by the time she'd actually gotten onto the table, all she'd managed to save were a few slimy gray strings resembling strands of paper mâché that stuck to her hoof.
Amidst the giggling of the foals and even a few of the adults, Trixie blinked. She set her hoof down with a quiet squelch. “Oops,” she said, taking a slight step back and looking briefly from side to side before hopping down off the table.
And, perhaps the most important illusion to sell, the illusion of error.
Some errors, though, weren’t an illusion. One of Trixie’s exaggerated shudders as her eyes flicked around the room and she shook the gunk off her hoof was real as memories of the incident with the Alicorn Amulet sprang to mind, and memories of how badly it had corrupted her. Sure, Twilight had forgiven her, and good rumors had also spread about her (admittedly impressive) fireworks display; but after that, she'd needed to keep a very low profile. This was why she was currently doing her rounds, wasting her vast and expansive talent on foals’ birthday parties and Cute-ceañeras. Sure, she could have chosen not to; but that would have meant choosing to starve. And Trixie was most certainly not about to choose that.
Really, everything was the illusion of choice; and, just like the filly's, Trixie's choice had already been made for her.
The filly looked up with confusion in her eyes. Trixie let it slowly burn there, and when her mouth curved downwards as the first inklings of ‘betrayal’ crept in, she finished her trick. “Trixie is very sorry that didn’t work out,” she said, lighting her horn and sliding over one of the sandwiches provided for the party. She held it out. “Perhaps a consolation prize?” she offered with a shaky smile.
The filly glared at Trixie, but took the sandwich and turned to walk off-stage. Still scowling, she bit into it… but frowned as her teeth hit something that definitely wasn’t cheese. She frowned and pulled her head back, and clenched between her teeth…
Her eyes widened. No way!
She held it up, and sure enough, everypony could see her signature atop the ten cups. “My card!” she squealed.
Trixie raised her hoof and bowed, to thunderous applause. “The Great and Powerful Trixie, everypony!”
Still…
The filly’s eyes lit up like one of Trixie’s fireworks. Dropping the card and the sandwich, she darted over and wrapped herself around Trixie’s foreleg. “You're the greatest magician ever!” she proclaimed.
…sometimes…
Her stage facade cracked; Trixie smiled as she bent down and returned the hug. She glanced up to see the filly's mother, standing nearby with a camera. Never one to miss a good photo opportunity, she shook her hat off her head and placed it on the filly's head and picked her up, turning around to pose for a picture. For a brief moment, captured forever in that flash of light, both wore wide, genuine smiles.
…it had been the right choice, all along.
