The Snail actor, with a look a relief, set the shell prop down on the stage and walked off, joining the audience. The rice-storm and gong-thunder continued.
“The storm did not relent, however,” the narrator said. “The rains continued into the next day, and the waters rose. Snail thought he was safe in his shell, but he was drowned by the storm.”
The Snail actor shouted from offstage, “My spirit is ascending to God! Though I am dead, I join the other souls that make up our harmonious Earth!”
Finally, the rice-storm ended. For a moment, Tera assumed they had run out of fake rain, but realized it was a deliberate transition. There was a moment of silence as the audience gazed at the empty painted basket, alone on the stage.
Another actor appeared after the silence went on for several minutes, this one dressed in a dark leotard. His face was painted with black makeup and charcoal, designed to look like a caricature of an old-timey villain. Ethan half expected him to change into a cartoon devil, complete with horns and a pitchfork.
“Overnight, a daemon appeared,” the narrator said. “He found the empty shell that Snail had left behind.”
The daemon actor approached the painted basket with a cautious gait, like he half expected the “shell” to be booby-trapped. He lifted the basket, really selling the whole nervous performance. When it was clear that the shell was empty, the daemon turned to the audience and announced, “This shell will be my new home!”
“So the daemon crawled inside, claiming Snail’s shell as his own,” the narrator said. The actor pretended to crawl into the painted basket, then made a swift exit from the stage. “The next day, Snail’s friends came to make sure he was alright.”
All three of the animal actors returned to the stage, looking around as if they couldn’t see the shell alone on the platform. Each acted surprised when they came within a couple feet of the prop.
“Snail! Is that you?” Lizard asked.
“Snail? How did you survive the storm?” Horse said.
The daemon actor, cupping his mouth with his hands, said, “It is me, friends! I survived by taking shelter in my shell.”
“Oh! What a miraculous shell indeed!” Lizard commented.
“Your voice sounds different, Snail,” Crow said. “Are you not feeling well?”
“No, I — I’m sick,” the daemon replied. Then he gave a few fake coughs. “The storm made me ill.”
“Oh no!” Horse said. “We should take him to Owl to be healed!”
“No! I don’t need a healer!” the daemon said. “It’s alright.”
“It’s not okay, Snail!” Crow said. “We won’t let our friend be sick.”
“Despite the daemon’s protests, Snail’s friends took the shell to Owl, the wisest creature in the forest,” the narrator explained.
A curtain was lifted by a number of stagehands, concealing the actors and the painted basket. Tera and Ethan could hear shuffling and hushed voices talking from behind the veil. The sounds were hurried, and in less than a minute, the curtain was dropped.
The painted basket wobbled a little while Snail’s friends stood around it. There was a new actor on the stage, also dressed in a feather-covered robe. He seemed older and more distinguished.
“Owl!” Lizard cried as if an invisible wall separated them from the new character.
“Yes?” the Owl actor said. He acknowledged their presence for the first time.
“Our friend Snail is sick,” Crow explained. “Will you not heal him?”
The new character approached the painted basket. He tapped it a couple of times with his hands — or wings, as Tera tried to imagine. Owl gave a little hum of thought as he considered the shell.
“I see your problem,” Owl said.
Horse turned to Lizard with a childlike expression of joy. “Oh, wonderful Owl! See? We were right to come to him.”
“The problem is that this is no Snail!” Owl said like he was making an accusation in court.
The others gasped.
“Nonsense!” said the daemon. His voice came from under the painted basket, which explained the odd rocking it made every now and then.
“How could you say that, Owl?” Lizard said. “Snail is our friend, and we would know if it was not him.”
“I may not know your friend, but I know daemons!” Owl declared. With a grand gesture, he flipped over the painted basket, revealing the shadowy character within.
Again, the animal friends gasped. The daemon actor stood bow-legged, like he was taken by surprise as well. A guilty expression crossed his make-up strewn face.
“Impostor!” Crow shouted at the daemon.
“I cannot believe we were deceived!” Lizard lamented.
“Begone, daemon!” Horse yelled.
As if he had been stung by a bee, the daemon actor leaped in pain and ran off the stage.
“Do you see now?” Owl said once the commotion of the daemon’s exit diminished. “The shell was never Snail at all, but a vessel. No matter how well the impostor plays his role, your friend is gone.”
“I guess the shell doesn’t make the snail!” Crow declared.
All the actors froze as if in a 90’s sitcom, waiting for the credits to roll. The curtain was raised again, and the crowd began to applaud.
“So ends the story of A Shell Without A Snail,” the narrator said, trying to surmount the rising clapping. She took her leave, melting back into the audience. The curtain remained up for a few moments, and when it was lowered, the stage was empty.
King Hum beamed at the performance, offering his own loud applause. He turned to gauge his guests’ reactions.
“What did you think?” he asked.
“I liked it,” Ethan said. “A nice little fable.”
“A very old one, as well,” Orram said. He turned to his plate and speared a bite with his fork.
“I dunno,” Tera said. “I thought it was a little on-the-nose. It’s about bodyshells, isn’t it?”
King Hum smiled, picking at a bit of his own meal. “I can see how you’d think that, but it’s older than your kind,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Tera asked. “To me, it seemed written with the sole mission of discrediting installed intelligences. By saying that we’re ‘daemons’.”
“I’m sorry you see it that way,” King
