The Gimp

The Cage – November 15, 2005

Prologue

The Cage – November 15, 2005

“It is the devil’s work, Gerhard.”

The moralist wife addresses the pragmatist husband. At odds, no longer drawn together by love, but instead by need.

“Yes, Hilda. But the devil pays well. And heaven demands that we eat and not let ourselves die of starvation.”

Wizened hands smooth over the nearly completed abode of formidable stainless steel. Many bars, two centimeters in thickness, have been cut, shaped and welded to form a cage. Over the many weeks, as the gleaming collection took shape, wife Hilda’s expressions of disdain transformed from initial clucking of the tongue to outright verbal condemnation. Most disconcerting has been Gerhard’s careful attention to some odd augmentations. At one end of the waist high, mostly rectangular shape, Gerhard has fastidiously labored to add a smaller square envelopment to the top. The size of a hat box, the prudish Hilda, having observed the skilled craftsmanship of husband Gerhard often engaged in abetting ‘wickedness’, knows too well of its purpose. And then there is the manner in which the design demanded the bars at the sides of the cage and below the box be specially shaped...

Within the cage, dozen’s of eyelets adorn the bars. Whatever is to be held within the ineluctable strips of hardened steel will be bound in place... as added precaution?.. or added torment?

Hilda does not need to speculate.

“Such abominable use of your skills. Gerhard, you should be sculpting! Your statues are renowned!”

“I would like to think that artwork will be held within these bars. That I am working the shell of a great Faberge egg.”

Hilda snorts in disgust watching as hands continue to smooth over the dozens of flawless welds. Not a seam to be seen. Not a crevice to be felt. In the past, the aging skilled metal worker has indeed been commissioned for grand artwork. Yet, the sizable emolument offered for an otherwise undistinguished cage could not be refused.

“My work will be seen by the wealthy, the influential. Commissions will result.”

“Money in return for abetting debauchery, Gerhard. Look at the size. It is for a human! Look at the design of the entrance door. I have seen too many animal cages. One must conclude that the only escape is not to be locked. It is instead to be welded shut, Gerhard! And I hope not by you!”

Gerhard has no retort. He of course realized the odd accessory of the entrance door when initially examining the design drawings. There are no loops within which a common padlock can be inserted to snap close and later be opened for release. Instead, the hinged door of bars lowers and two flat surfaces meet, one on the door, one on the body of the cage. After closure, it will be a simple matter to spot weld the surfaces together to offer permanency. Gerhard has too many times similarly welded opposing surfaces in assembling the final portions of a completed work of art.

Initially, he shuddered with the thought of eternal captivity. The high carbon steel, as expensive and rigorous as any alloy known, does not rust, and once tempered is almost impossible to bend. It can only be cut with diamond tipped blades or acetylene torch. Wickedly, it is intended that whatever is placed inside the cage will be forever held. Is he making a coffin for the living? His own thoughts coincide with those of wife Hilda more than she will know. Still, the offering of abundant cash for weeks of skilled fabrication could not be refused.

“And that box at the top, Gerhard. It is the size of a head. How is it that the design permits the little hatch door there to be unlocked and opened and not the entrance door? And look at the shape of the bars below. It required hours for you to cut, bend, then shape the concavity. It is disgusting to think of the time and effort spent so someone can comfortably sit astride the bars.”

Gerhard calmly nods. Yes, around the vicinity of the box, the design mandated that the otherwise straight bars be configured into the shape of a seat just where the hatbox door can be opened. There are indentations on the top and at the sides to comfortably accommodate thighs and calves, just as one would ride a motorcycle. Even the less prurient mind of wife Hilda understands that the pubes of whoever sits atop will be most proximate to the face of the head thrust into the box.

“Disgusting, yet enriching, my scolding wife. Be thankful it is not you to be placed within. Be thankful that the remuneration for this cage will offer food and the comfort of heat during the cold months of winter.”

“Who will it be that so endures while we eat in warm comfort, Gerhard?”

Gerhard shakes his head as his inspection ends, communicating his lack of knowledge. He turns to ignite his acetylene torch. Satisfied with its perfection, every inch of the cage will be heated again to further harden the bars.

“You are looking at a creation which indeed approximates the cost of a Faberge egg, my shrewish mate. Whatever is held within will be oddly treasured. One does not pay vast sums to hold in captivity a rodent. No, this creature will eat, breathe, be pampered and most importantly... it will amuse. And as a result we will eat as well.”