Web of Light

Laughter, applause.

“It’s crystal clear with the shovel. So, what’s about magic? It is more universal, can be applied to many more things, its usage is complicated. Attention, ladies and gentlemen, now I will tell you the greatest secret of magic. Are you ready?”

O’Loufert steps back from the tribune, pulls up the hood with both hands such that only the lower part of his face is visible, and lifting his hand, clinches his fingers in a typical jedi gesture, moving the hand to the audience.

“There is no magic, only physics!”

From the audience comes an surprised whimper, and a deafening laughter ensues. It transitions into a long standing ovation.

Gilbert, self-assured:

"Yeah, this is my favourite moment in the lecture — and I need to admit, the mantle was custom-tailored to achieve a greater similarity. You probably have read this on my website, and I often tell this in the interviews. George Lucas — not really clear to me how — had quite exactly anticipated the future the Humanity will see on its way to space expansion. That will begin sooner or later. The current state of the ‘magi’ that are pressed down by the UN ‘Statute of Wizarding Secrecy’ are the quintessence of the medieval believes about the magi. Even shamans from ancient times were closer to the ‘normals’ than we are today. Well, what is a magus in medieval believes? Some strange person in robes…

Giggles.

“… who can anytime knuckle the commoner under, make him grow a tail, force to give him commoner’s last pennies or even ‘hex’ the poor man to stop drinking beer with a company! Oh dears!”

Loud laughter and clapping that grows to an enthusiastic applause.

“Yeah, not without a reason women — especially the married ones — were said to be close to witchcraft. Who else would ‘hex’ poor John the neighbour away from the bar? Only Bertha and her Magic Battledore!”

Laughter.

"Yep, you are laughing. But a normal ‘commoner’, a politician or a policeman does not understand magic, he does not know what to expect from me or from you. That’s why we are forbidden to use our talent freely on streets or in public places. Well, except when in the direct danger or to save lives of many people — while keeping the fact of our influence hidden. If you break this part of the international law — in any country, except something like Laos — an investigation and often a court trial await you. The magus will be fined, the people will get their memories changed — only because we are ‘magi.’ Note, not magi, ‘magi.’ And now let’s take a look on jedi from the Lucas’ saga. They are respected people! They openly use their abilities. The keepers of peace! Almost a special police, but what they can do, an average magus level three can do. Why so? Jedi are magi, but not ‘magi.’ Their ‘power’ has a ‘scientific explanation,’ and while it is not known what ‘cool trait’ has this particular force user, jedi are still perceived as normal people, albeit more ‘weaponed.’

Think now about this. In the modern literature the magic is often contrasted with science: the way of knowledge and the way of ‘unknown… crap.’ Crapusers are bad guys and do things on the emotions, hence they are often bad and evil. And those who handle upon the science are ‘good guys.’ Even if a person does not understand things, but has an opinion that upon desire to do so, he would personally understand them, this changes the whole game. And you know what? They, the ‘commoners’ are right. We get this far: an old school ability to move mountains and pull river’s water aside turned out to be weaker — weaker! — than tools made by commoners. Only because we still try to progress with the trial and error method. A theory of magic does exist. A theory connecting magic and the physical world does not. We know how to create a fireball. How to wrap the ‘phi’ flow around the manifestation of the movement vector… But we do not know what is happening in this moment in the casting place. The twentieth century has seen attempts to ‘decompile’ magic from the ‘scientific truth’ point of view: observations, measurements… vivisection. Soviet Union, Nazi Germany, USA, later: Commie China or now North Korea. Aside from a large collection of observations nothing was gained. Why? Oh, because the ‘magic’ event was treated as — well, as magic. A ‘total black box,’ as later one Soviet science fiction author would write. It fulfils the wishes — upon the orders of the Party, — but how? Heck, no one knows. And what could be done with it? Only ‘rationalise’ it away, that is: find a place for it where it is least visible. Out of the eye, out of the mind! And I am telling you: this attitude would continue as long as magic and magi are ‘unknown crap:’ they will be pulled out, every time when a problem arises that is not solvable with ‘common’ methods. And pull away, as soon as the problem is no more. But this barrier, it’s only in our heads. Now, let’s try to peel it off!

Firstly, the issues everyone knows. We need a body for wizardry. The body is the source of mana. The body generates the aura. If the body is damaged, the aura gets some problems, at least temporary. Everyone knows that the spells are formed inside the aura and inside the body, if directed on self. Or, outside the body, but inside the aura, if directed to the ‘outside.’ Complicated spells have their own ‘aura,’ that’s how to ‘jinx’ an item. The mana energy in the jinx is at ‘launch’ converted from mana to the physical manifestation of the effect. That is, if it is a fireball than we obtain a meta stable plasmoid with medium live duration. Now — the key question! — what is then this mysterious ‘aura?’ And the schoolbook suddenly has an answer: the manifestation of the magus’ power. Come on! That’s how I answer this question. Aura is a ‘holographic’ superimposition of the mana trajectory in nerve and blood systems of the magus’ body. And my hypothesis already has some proofs. Now, casting spells and applying the ‘magical instrument’ is no longer ‘unknown crap.’ It is cybernetics and quantum-wave process. Both at the same time. That’s what it is! However, I guess, that for the most of you this sounds even worse than ‘magic’ for a ‘normal’, he he. But well, that’s the reason I am here! After the pause we shall continue folding our brains into tubes on the topic ‘Me and magic.’ And after the lunch we’ll arrive at the even more interesting topic ‘magic and Universe.’ Thank you!"

A bow and long-lasting applause. Female voice says ‘my brain is already twisted’ and a male answers ‘yeah, at the end he strangled too hard.’ The camera holder is silent.

The playback is interrupted by the user. These are the first chapters. The book is a bit slow to boot, the actual fun begins like at chapter 18 if not 30, so bear with the initial chapters, they are short. I hope to get to the interesting bits fast enough. There be lasers, explosives, and, of course, supernatural abilities. Mind chapter 16. And yeah, the future chapters will be larger. I am bundling them to pieces of relatively same size. Oh, and the misspelling of the Shizuku’s name is on purpose: the guy does not remember it correctly.

0. Starting point

The main device is working silently, but one cannot say this about the supporting machinery — each to its own tune — the power supplies hum, once per seconds beeps the radiometer, the coolers both of an old PC — this is the lab stand — and of a new machine — Star Craft 2 is the lab’s favourite game! — are buzzing. Night is my time. The experiment has begun at 2000 and goes on until 0600. The lab cannot be left without a scientist supervising the machinery; that’s what the safety instructions say. It is not surprising that most of the time I am napping: in the chair, in the armchair, sometimes on a uncomfortable small sofa that feels like a waiting bank in public hospital.

Few months ago I caught myself seeing dreams. More realistic, bright, colourful dreams. I even had a dream that I am a huge dragonfly and I was catching flying fish over the surface of the dense ocean of all colours of green — all dream long. I had a dream about all kinds of stories. Beginning with a replay of everyday life, over the feelings and emotions, ending with completely fictional ones. Like damage control of a huge military spaceship. Or was it not military? I did not get it that time.

What was the reason? Electromagnetic waves? That’s crap, that’s why we have a radiometer here. I told my boss, he assumed infrasonic. We borrowed a quartz resonator, but an exhaustive search was fruitless. Well, quartz has some measurement selectivity, but— Well, a strong influence we would have caught, and a weak one would not have an energy to break something in the human body. Nobody freed me from the night watches, of course. I did not complain myself, I do not want to shatter my career.

And now— Probably, I switched off in a sweet spot where the waves are crossing — be they electromagnetic or sonic. This time I was a mournful nine year old. He lost his parents yesterday. It was a strange feeling, but again I knew I am just sleeping. I did not wake up, I did not even try. That dream was interesting: an alternative Japan. Why alternative? Look at the house that is now mine. Completely European design, including furniture. No social care: at the funeral no official approached me, but I am an orphan now. I do not think we are in Tokyo, that is not Kyoto either — there is no port. The mother of my school friend accompanied me, but even she had no doubt that a kid can live alone. Gloomy.

Meanwhile I have now completely lost the feeling of my body spread in an office chair in the middle of the lab, but began feeling the fresh breeze here. Such things happened often in my dreams; I even remember the taste of the fish from the ocean-broth… I was still in doubt whether I should keep watching this stick-jaw dream, but then suddenly it turned out that my school friend is cooking a lunch (!) for me at my kitchen (!!), and this is her free choice to choose this chore. And it’s tasty, damn it! I even got a feeling of being full, nice. Further, I was too tired to cry. My emotions, according to the dream screenplay still were sad, and I was getting some strange, a little uncomfortable pleasure from the thought that these are in fact not mine. It was enough for me and I went for a sleep. This is the surest way to wake up when inside a dream: to go in bed. I knew it from experience. Either that or to wait until a dream ends: five-six hours of subjective time — but I was bored. Again, I wanted to remember the dream as a tasty dinner and not a foreign loss. I got down and slept in.

1.

I woke up still in the dream. Phew. Familiar bed, familiar wall, not familiar ceiling? Heh, thanks, but the ceiling was also familiar: square shade, round lamp — very typical for the Japanese. For the manga and anime Japanese, to be more exact. Our army guys are like this: drag the round things, roll the square ones — a suspicious similarity of styles. No? OK, a not funny joke. I wonder, is this dream original or inspired by something? Rather the latter, the anime lamp is hinting at this. That’s unfortunate, original plots are more unusual, although the surrounding world is as real as it gets. OK. So, show must go on. Let’s try to sort this out—

2.

It is a bit disappointing to realise that my fantasy was not deep enough for an original world. 48 hours of local time have passed; and from these I can remember almost anything that happened to a minute exact. Rinko came by — that was the name of the neighbour girl. A small kid, babbles a lot, but cooking astonishingly fine for her age. Each of us is like nine years old. What’s funny: the social service inspector did not pay a visit. I explored the house, saw the basement and the attic. Walked around the town: a splendid park with a water storage reservoir; the business centre is full with skyscrapers, similar to Moscow-City, but like five times more; walked into the shops. Tried to figure out the time. The calender has the year 2005 on it. Again: hm!

It is school time, tomorrow I am going to school. Japanese anime has this at a fetish level. Tried to “remember” something about me — I remember very little. Tried to delve something in the papers. Found ownership papers on a land and a house somewhere in Noihara. It looks like I got this directly from grandfather, bypassing my parents. Hm, Rinko is a quite common name, but I have seen Noihara in an only one work. Anime or manga, as I said: unfortunately my imagination turned out to be not as good as I though it would be.

3.

Heh, the teachers are gazing off, but do not say anything. Traditional behaviour. I am curious, is it like this also in the original Japan? And wow, my sitting place is not at the window, but in the back of the class! Either the trope got broken or my imagination plays its games. But I doubt the imagination.

I was thinking a lot about what happened. Memorised a hell-lot of dates from the history of local Japan. Especially cool are the motoric writing skills. Well, I scribble in fact, just so-so for a school boy, but come on — I did not have them. Again, we communicate in Japanese. I understand everything, have no difficulties talking. I should have waken up, if all this surrounding stuff would be “supported” by my own brain. Hence, my conscience is on a “remote server.” An interesting side effect from the device, turns out to be not a stimulation, but something else. I even wanted to research it more.

To think logically, at 6 a.m. the PC turns the power off. And if not: at 8 a.m. the folks arrive at work and will turn the device off. Will I be back? This is very probable. How much of the local time will pass? I am curious!

4.

A week has passed. I am sturdy stuffing my head with various information, like a geek. Was painting hieroglyphs with brush and Indian ink. Cool! We had a painting lesson; needed to sketch a vase with flowers. I damned every second. Got mail from the bank, fetched the chequebook. I am getting weekly payments from parents’ account, not so tiny ones, I can afford not to cook at all. But Rinko provides me with food, either he brings something from her parents or cooks herself. Yeah, I drag on my neck a large “amulet:” a flat bag made of red silk, larger than my palm. Tried to took it off and “remembered” that my grandpa gave it to me when I was— Six? Seven? Something is— off with my memory. Or “was.” I can take the amulet off. But when I cannot step aside from it more than one-two meters: I naturally have heart attacks and get extremely scared at this moment. Damn mystics!