text: Adam Carr, a fifty-year-old antique dealer, stood in the middle of his emporium and watched shoppers as they examined his unusual antiques. Collectors from all over the world came to buy his statues, artwork, jewelry, books, and hundreds more antiques that no other antique dealer could offer. Sir Eric Morgan, holding a gold necklace and a dagger, worked his way through the crowd to Adam. “My good man, your catalog shows this necklace to be one worn by Nefertiti of Ancient Egypt, circa 3600 BC,” he said pointing to the picture. “An amazing resemblance, wouldn’t you say, old chap? Was it made for you? If so, shouldn’t you label it a replica?” “Sir Morgan, suppose I told you that it is not a replica. What would you say?” “Well, I would say...I would say, well how could it be? I don’t understand.” “Sir Morgan, my friend, I would never lie to you. Tell you what. Take the necklace to anyone you want to have it examined. I’m sure you have an expert on your payroll who can tell a replica from the authentic piece.” “That is very generous of you. I will take you up on your offer. Now, I would like to know about this dagger.” “My friend, what your holding is an ancient Roman dagger used by Brutus to kill Caesar.” “Come, now, this can’t be the real thing. I mean something like this would surely have been lost. Where did you get it?” “Let me just say I got it. You may take both to your expert if you wish.” “May I keep them for a week? I’ll have to fly my man in ­from London.” “Of course. Take your time. Sir Morgan, if you will excuse me, I believe I have a customer,” he said and went to a woman who was holding a painting in one hand and her check book in the other.” After everyone had left, Adam locked his emporium door and went to tally his sales. “$100,000 in checks and cash. Not bad. I will have to acquire some more antiques.” He went to his office, pressed some buttons on the lock, and the door opened. He entered and locked the door behind him. After putting the day’s receipts in a safe, he went to a sliding door in the wall and entered a walk-in closet. He removed a black jump suit, a black hood, black gloves, and black, sneaker-like shoes. After he finished dressing, he looked in a full-length mirror to make sure that no skin could be seen. Every inch of him was covered. Next, he took a black back pack that was made out of the same material as his clothes, and slung it on his back. He looked in the mirror, mumbled some words, and a shimmering face appeared. “Now I’m ready for a shopping trip. Mirror, I want to see Nero watching Rome burn.” “Yes, Master. Look.” a voice said and he looked in the mirror and saw a city in flames. The vision showed a man standing on a roof top apparently singing and playing an instrument. “He’s playing a cithara. If I don’t get it, it will be lost in the flames.” He entered the mirror and stepped out a few yards from Nero. He hurried to Nero and pulled the Cithara out of his hands startling him. “Mirror, make a portal for me, and an opening appeared. Nero stared as Adam went through the opening and stepped out of the mirror into his office. “This is a treasure,” he said holding the Cithara up. “Imagine, this was in Nero’s hands. Wait ‘til the collectors see this, especially Sir Morgan.” A week of brisk business went by and Sir Morgan returned. “My good man, my expert said they are authentic. how do you do it? How did you get these?” “Sir Morgan, I can’t tell you.” Alright. You can’t or won’t tell me. Now, how much do you want for them?” “One million for each.” “Sold. Adam, I’ll give you anything you want if you will tell me how you got these.” “I’m sorry, my friend, I can’t tell you.” “Alright. If you won’t tell me how you got these, may I ask you to get something for me?” “Yes. What do you want?” “Nero’s fiddle. The fiddle he played while Rome burned.” “He didn’t play a fiddle. The fiddle or violin wasn’t invented until the 16th century. Nero played an instrument called a cithara, it’s like a lyre. Come with me,” he said and went to the cithara that he had put in a show case. “There it is.” “My God,” Sir Morgan said looking closely at the cithara. “Anyone else would say you’re a charlatan, but I know you are not. I believe you. I must have it. How much?” “Two million. It wasn’t easy getting this.” “Sold. Now, tell me, can you get anything?” “I doubt that I can get anything. Why? What do you want?” “Don’t laugh. I want the forbidden fruit. You know, the Garden of Eden? The serpent and the forbidden fruit? “You’re joking. The Garden of Eden is just a story. Not too many people believe it’s true.” “I know, but if it is true, then you would know.” “Alright. I’ll try.” “Great,” They shook hands and he left. That night, Adam prepared himself and faced the mirror. “Mirror, I want to go to the Garden of Eden when Eve encountered the snake,” he said, and an image of a garden and a woman talking to a snake that was coiled around a tree branch appeared. “Oh, my God, it’s true.” He entered the mirror and then stepped out and stood in the garden. As he did, his clothes disappeared and he stood naked. Eve turned to him. “Adam, come see what the serpent has for us to eat,” she said and reached for the apple. Adam was nowhere to be found. Sir Morgan bought the Emporium thinking that he might find a clue to explain Adam’s disappearance, but he didn’t. Adam’s magic mirror and walk-in closet remained hidden. The mysterious antique dealer was gone and nobody knew where he went.