by Scott Meyer
“But I only discovered the file by accidentally making myself taller.”
Phillip’s eyes widened. “How much taller?”
“Two and a half inches.”
“Well, you lucked out, my friend. Much taller and your spine might have stopped functioning.”
“But you said we can’t change our physical structure, and I’ve proved that we can.”
“I didn’t say that we can’t, I said that we don’t. I didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. I meant that if you do we’ll reset you to your original parameters, cut off your access to the file, and send you back to your time. We don’t have a lot of rules, Martin, but we take the ones we do have very seriously. What were they again?”
“Experiment only on ourselves or another wizard, and only if that wizard knows what we’re doing, and we don’t alter any person’s physical structure, ever.”
“Well done. Okay Martin, I think you’re ready to say the incantation and start learning to use your powers.”
“Incantation?” Martin sneered. “You realize we aren’t really doing magic, right? All this smoke and mirrors is great for the locals, but we don’t really have to keep it up when we’re in private, do we?”
“Yes, we do. Martin, if being a wizard is a mask you remove sometimes, it’s only a matter of time before you forget to put it back on. You’ve got to live it all the time. Think of it as going undercover, if that helps. Also, more importantly, some of these bits of smoke and mirrors, as you put it, serve important functions. The shell we’ve written is always running in the background, monitoring the conditions of those we’ve authorized to use it.”
“So it’ll be spying on me?”
“You could look at it that way. You could also say that your television remote control is spying on your viewing habits. The shell watches, but it doesn’t record. It just waits for certain signals, then it makes adjustments to your portion of the file based on those signals.”
“Ah, and those signals are designed to look like spells and incantations.”
“This thinking thing is slowly becoming a habit. So, if you’re fully satisfied, may I please give you magical powers?”
“Of course,” Martin said, chagrined. “I’m sorry I interrupted. Please, tell me what to say.”
Phillip smiled and rose from his seat. “Splendid. Let’s get you kitted out.” He moved one of the loose folds of fabric that lined the walls. Behind it there was a small set of shelves. From them, Phillip grabbed a folded bundle of blood-red fabric, which he tossed to Martin. “Here, put these on. It’s an old robe and hat of mine. They’ll do until Gwen has finished yours.”
Martin pulled on the robe. Thanks to Phillip’s more generous proportions, the robe fit loosely, and pooled on the ground around his feet. The hat, which, like the robe, was blood-red with black trim, was also too large, and rested on his ears and eyebrows. The overall effect made Martin look like a small druid child, dressing in his father’s clothes and pretending he was going to a sacrifice just like daddy. Phillip took a second to admire Martin in his new ensemble. “Marvelous!”
“Really? I thought I looked ridiculous.”
“Oh, you do. Marvelously ridiculous!” Phillip handed Martin his staff. “Now, hold my staff, and this is very important, do not make the obvious joke.” Martin took the staff and said nothing.
“Good. Are you ready, Martin?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Repeat after me. Supren supren.”
“Supren supren.”
“Malsupren suben.”
“Malsupren suben.”
“Lasis dekstra lasis dekstra.”
“Lasis dekstra lasis … dekstra?”
“Bee aye komenco.”
“Bee aye komenco.”
Phillip clapped. “It is done!”
“What was that?” Martin asked.
“I’m told it’s a cheat code from a videogame called Contra that’s a bit after my time, I’m afraid.”
Martin thought for a moment. “Up, up, down, down, left, right, left right, B, … A. Yeah, start. Yup, that’s totally the Konami code. What language was that, Latin?”
“No, these are the Middle Ages. There are people you’ve met here who actually speak Latin. All of our spells are in Esperanto. It’s a universal language that was invented early in the twentieth century to foster international peace and understanding. It’s perfect for our purposes because there are many resources to translate things into it and absolutely nobody speaks it.”
“Nobody in this time.”
“Nobody in any time. Seriously, William Shatner, and that’s about it. Anyway, you’ve said the incantation. The shell is now active for you. To test it, try to move your head so your hat falls off.”
Martin tried, but no matter how he whipped his head, the hat stayed on, despite being too large for his head. “Good,” Phillip said. “Now reach up and take it off.” Martin did, and the hat came off easily.
“So the shell is keeping my hat on?”
“Yes. Wind can’t blow you hat off. Enemies can’t knock it off. If you put your hat on, the only thing that can remove it is you.”
Martin was puzzled. “That’s a nice demo, I guess.”
“Doesn’t seem practical though, eh. Give me my staff back. I’ll show you something.” Phillip took his staff back. He reached into his pocket and produced a gold coin, which he sat on the table next to the crystal ball. He held his staff in his left hand. With his right, he pointed at the coin and said, “Levi objekto.” While still pointing, he raised his hand, and the coin floated in the air, staying perfectly aligned with his hand. He lowered the coin back to the table. He motioned to Martin. “Now you try.”
Martin pointed at the coin, searched his memory, and said, “Levi objekto.” He raised his hand. The coin didn’t budge. “Did I get the words wrong?” he asked.
“No, you remembered the words just fine,” Phillip said. He handed the staff back to Martin. “Hold this, put your hat back on, and try again.”
Martin put the oversized hat back on his undersized head, held the staff in his left hand and pointed at the coin with his right, and said, “Levi objekto.” He raised his hand, and the coin smoothly lifted into the air. Martin just looked at it for a moment. He raised and lowered his hand, and the coin moved with it. He had seen Phillip do the same trick, both with the coin and with that cursed goat, but it hadn’t prepared him for the experience of doing it himself.
Phillip moved to stand beside him. “Push your hand forward, like you’re gently shoving the coin away.” Martin did, and the coin slowly glided away from Martin. “Now, pull your hand back, like you’re pulling on the coin.” He did, and the coin slowly glided back to him. “Make a stop sign with your hand.” Martin did, and the coin sat motionless in the air.
“What now?” Martin asked.
“Have fun,” Phillip answered.
Martin did just that. At his command, the coin explored every inch of airspace in the room. After a few minutes, Phillip asked, “It’s pretty much the best thing ever, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is!” Martin replied.
“You see, the shell is watching for certain words or phrases – cheat codes, if you like. That’s what we do. We research, design, and develop new cheat codes, which we share with the other wizards. It wouldn’t do to have the codes just be words and phrases though. If some local heard the Konami code, as you call it, and repeated it, they’d have access to all of the spells, and that would be bad. So, in order to use the spells, you need to have said the code, you have to know the commands in Esperanto, you must be wearing a robe with cuffs exactly two feet in circumference, and a conical hat no less than one foot tall. Also, you must be holding either a wooden staff five feet tall, not including ornamentation, or a wooden wand one and a half feet in leng
th. Get any part of that wrong, and the shell will ignore you.”
Martin played with the coin for a few more minutes. Finally, Phillip said “Let’s try something else. Say kopio objekto.” Martin said it. There was a flash of blue light and then there were two coins.
“And that,” Phillip said, “is why we don’t have to work for a living.” Phillip reached up and snatched one of the coins out of the air. “Now say detrui objekto, if you please.” Martin did. There was another flash of light, and the coin disappeared.
“Where’d it go?” Martin asked.
“It didn’t go anywhere. It’s just gone. It no longer exists. That’s the thing about being part of a computer program, the laws of physics no longer apply. Matter can be created or destroyed. That’s why we train and screen people before giving them access. If you were to point at a person and say the spell, that person would be irrevocably gone and everything that person knows, including who had killed them, would be lost.” Phillip stretched, yawned, and walked to the door that separated the crystal ball room from the shop. He stood silhouetted in the door with his back to Martin.
“Yup,” Phillip said, “someone who has access to the shell can go anywhere, do almost anything, and if they kill someone, say the person who gave them the code, who would be the only person who could identify them, they’d be impossible to stop.”
Phillip stood in the doorway for a long moment.
“Mm hm,” he continued, “the only person who could identify them would be gone.”
Another long moment passed.
“And in your case, Martin, that person would be me.”
Slowly, Phillip twisted around to look over his shoulder at Martin, who was still standing there silently. Phillip smiled. “Well done! You’ve passed the most important test so far. You didn’t try to kill me!”
“People actually do that?”
“Oh, yeah! Think about it. I’ve already made you functionally immortal. I’ve given you the ability to create money. I’ve shown you enough about flight to figure it out on your own. I’ve given you a hat, robe, and staff, and made it clear that if you took me out you wouldn’t have to face the trials. Someone who isn’t as decent as you might well be tempted to destroy me and get on with their lives.”
“It didn’t even occur to me.”
“Dumb and decent can often look the same. It’s depressing, but the truth often is. It’s just as well. You’re still in a safety mode. If you had tried to kill me you’d have been knocked unconscious, and I don’t think I need to tell you where, when, and in what state of dress you’d have woken up.” Phillip walked back to the hidden keyboard and hit a few keys without bothering to sit down. He squinted into the crystal ball and said “There, the safety’s off. Now … where was that … thing.” Phillip turned his back to Martin and rummaged around in the shelves that were now partially concealed by the drapes. He rummaged for a full thirty seconds, then stood up, faced Martin, and spread his arms wide.
“Congratulations! You’ve passed another test! You didn’t kill me even after I explained in detail why you might want to! That clears up the whole ‘dumb or decent’ question.” Phillip went back to the keyboard and hit a few more keys. When he finished he looked at Martin, who was studying him intently.
“Is this another test?” Martin asked.
“If you have to ask, then it probably is.”
Chapter 15.
Phillip and Martin spent most of the next two days practicing levitating and duplicating objects and going for long walks around Leadchurch. Phillip encouraged Martin to ask questions, but was careful in how much new material they covered on a given day. He said he wanted to keep Martin from getting overwhelmed. Martin would leave the embarrassingly oversized loaner robe and hat back at the shop. Without the rest of the ensemble, his staff seemed out of place, so it stayed back at the shop as well.
Occasionally one of the locals, as Martin now called them, would ask Phillip for some assistance. If they wanted money or food, he’d hear them out, and if he found them worthy he’d make their chicken into two chickens. If they wanted him to predict the future, he’d say something confusing and move along. If they were particularly hard up he’d say something confusing and make their chicken into two chickens. Martin noticed that the locals were falling into three distinct categories: people who wanted something and walked right up to ask, people who didn’t want something right now but treated Phillip in a cordial manner, and people who clearly were up to no good, all of whom seemed to avoid Phillip like the plague.
“When I first got here,” Martin said, “the first two locals I met were a couple of really tough-looking guys. We were on the road, miles from anyone else. I thought they were going to give me trouble, but they seemed terrified of me.”
Phillip laughed. “These people have lived with us wizards in their midst for years now. They’re all aware of the damage we can do if pushed. Think about how you got here, Martin. Think about all of us other wizards. We got here the same way. Part of why we all get along so well is that we’re pretty much the same type of person. Only people who spend more time with computers than with people ever find the file, so we all share similar experiences and attitudes. Regretfully, some of us are still carrying a chip on our shoulder from the playground, and now that we have the power to get some revenge on bullies, some tend to take it too far. There’s one spell that causes a thirty-foot tall flaming demon to claw its way out of the ground and give your foe a wedgie. That makes a lasting impression.”
“You’re saying that the bullies are afraid of the geeks.”
“Specifically, oddly dressed geeks who talk funny, and last night that described you perfectly.”
“So we’re allowed to use our powers as a weapon?”
“Only in self-defense. It seldom comes to that. As you’ve seen, we can make our homes and shops impregnable, and out here in the open we’re unlikely to be taken unawares. If someone does grab me, I can always just say eskapi and …”
There was a flash of blue light and Phillip was gone. Martin looked around. Everybody on the street was looking at him. Several very large men seemed particularly interested in the now unescorted wizard’s apprentice, and started walking towards him. There was another flash of light, Phillip was back, and suddenly nobody was looking at them anymore. The large men seemed preoccupied with the sky, or the ground, anything but Phillip and Martin.
“Sorry about that. Anyway, I can say that word and I’ll go to a safe place I set up in advance. In my case it’s ...”
“You know what,” Martin interrupted, suddenly aware that people were paying more attention than Phillip might realize. “You can show me later.”
That afternoon Martin multi-tasked, splitting his attention between the Esperanto vocabulary book from the 1930s that Phillip had given him and doing quick and dirty alterations on the loaner robe and hat. His own robe would not be ready for another week, and he’d decided he never wanted to be caught in public without the identifying markers of a wizard again. He sat in the shop, speaking gibberish and occasionally jabbing himself with the needle. He was grateful that the blood-red robe hid bloodstains. When he was done, he looked himself over, and he had to admit his handiwork looked pretty bad. He looked like he had his tailoring done by an eight-year-old, but at least he didn’t look like a victim.
He went into the crystal ball room to show Phillip his finished ensemble. Phillip agreed that the sewing wasn’t great, but that Martin’s staff had come out nicely. Martin had stripped off the bark, sanded the pale wood smooth, varnished and sealed the wood and firmly affixed the six-inch bust of Santo to the top. The bust had a square base that included Santo’s cape chain and collarbones, but cut off his shoulders. His thick, short neck led to his hand-painted mask. It was a dazzling metal-flake silver, like the body of a fiberglass dune buggy. The piping around the eyes, nose, and mouth hol
es was a flatter, duller gray. The eyes of the mask were canted at a fearsome, angry-looking angle, but the human eyes they framed looked kind and gentle. It was totally incongruous, and as such, perfect for Martin’s needs.
Phillip took it all in and said, “You look like a crazy person.”
“Good?” Martin said.
“Very good,” Phillip said, “and you’re just in time. We should really get going.”
Martin wasn’t aware that they were going anyplace that evening, and said so.
“You’ve been doing a great job, and I know that what with the consciousness-changing discoveries, police chases, time-travel and wizard training, it’s been a stressful couple of weeks for you, so I figured it was time to have some fun.”
Martin tried to picture what fun for someone with the kind of powers the wizards have. “Are we going to go flying, or teleport to a historical event?”
“We could do those things if you want. I was thinking we’d just meet a couple of my friends and spend the evening eating unhealthy food and playing board games.”
“Let’s do it!” Martin blurted.
Phillip smiled and said, “Let me tell them we’re coming.” Phillip gripped his staff in his left hand, and held his right hand at head height as if he were performing the alas poor Yorick speech from Hamlet. He said, “komuniki kun Gary!” A glowing sphere of white light appeared in Phillip’s outstretched hand. It pulsated and emanated an eerie warbling hum.
“It’s ringing,” Phillip said.
After a moment, the sphere of light collapsed, changed shape, and became an image of a flaming human skull. It was completely flat, as if it were painted on a sheet of plastic. The flames moved, but not fluidly. It took Martin a moment of mental processing to realize that the image hovering above Phillip’s hand was an animated GIF file projected into the world like an object.
