Sirens Unbound

by Laura Engelhardt

  “Theodore Riccie, Via-Enchanter of the Danjou,” Ted said, holding out his hand to shake Dr. Villar’s.

  “Dr. Michael Villar, Director of DARPA,” Villar responded, shaking Ted’s hand.

  “It’s an honor to finally meet you, sir,” Ted said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. His tone had shifted to a level of polite formality she hadn’t heard since he had first arrived in Boston. Amy found herself second-guessing the briefing she’d prepared. She was far more used to working with doctors than she was with such senior laypeople. But Amy was experienced in plastering a confident expression on her face.

  Dr. Villar’s announcement that Patient B was going home rattled her. The project had been inches from termination at least twice before; both times, Ted and the Danjou elders had been able to reframe their research in a way that kept the DoD interested. Now that it seemed like the Danjou were backing away, and somehow she needed to make sure the DoD felt like the project was still on track. Eli used to be so good at managing their sponsors, but this project seemed beyond even his abilities.

  The six men sat down on either side of the long conference table, as Amy walked to the lectern at the front of the room and dimmed the lights. She picked up the laser pointer with the ease of long practice. As the room faded into the glow of the large screen behind her, the familiarity of presenting took over. Amy clicked onto the first slide, which displayed the project name and the classic image of the Eye of Horus.

  “The focus of today’s presentation will be an overview of our status on Phase Two of Project Hathor. In Phase One, as you recall, we conducted extensive research into the perception of magick. Due to security concerns,” Amy nodded in Dr. Villar’s direction, “our live subjects were drawn exclusively from the U.S. enclaves. However, we were able to cross-compare some of our anatomical findings with Gerhard Hass’ surgical reports and autopsy records, as well as autopsy records from a handful of mages in Europe and South America.

  “By reviewing functional magnetic resonance imaging, or fMRIs, and MRIs of more than fifty mages, we were able to isolate the regions of the brain involved in the processing of magical sensation. We were also able to identify certain physical differences in the structure of mundane and mage optic nerves.”

  Amy flipped rapidly through the slides, which all of the people in the room should have seen in prior presentations. Their detailed work in the first phase of the project would be heralded as groundbreaking when she was finally able to publish their findings. Due to security concerns, they were precluded from publishing any results until the DoD gave its approval. While the DoD and, to a lesser extent, the Danjou Enclave couldn’t truly appreciate how important their findings were to the entire field of magical medical research, Amy knew they were seminal.

  Other studies had focused on genetic differences between mages and mundanes, seeking to isolate the genes that caused a human to be able to perceive and manipulate magical energy. This was the first research that had ever been done to compare human neurological structures. They now knew what parts of the brain were involved with mage sight and the manipulation of magical energy. The only physical difference between mages and mundanes was one extra nerve connected just below the optic nerve. The team had named it the “sub-optic nerve.” Based on their analysis of Patient B and the Hass autopsy results, they had determined that the sub-optic nerve was integral to magical perception.

  Once they were free to publish, their findings on how mages oscillated their perception of white light between magical and mundane sight would make Graham and Arnie’s careers, as well as cement hers as perhaps the foremost neurosurgeon in the world.

  “Of course, our research into magical perception is only the first part of the project, but is nevertheless a crucial first step. As the Djinn Dictator’s experimentations proved, understanding the physical components of mage vision is valuable in its own right. Blind a mage, and they cannot cast: magical vision is a necessary precursor to magical manipulation.

  “The key physical difference between mages and mundanes is the existence of the sub-optic nerve. A very small percentage of the population — less than two percent of all the mundanes we analyzed — have sub-optic nerves. And in those mundanes, the sub-optic nerve does not connect to the occipital lobe in the same way it does in mages.”

  Amy flipped through the slides to the one with Patient B’s pre-op MRI, comparing it with Ted’s MRI. Before this project, no mundane scientist or doctor had ever been able to study mages like this. When they’d asked Ted to participate as a control, he’d been indignant at first. Then he insisted that Amy and the other doctors on the team submit to the scans as well. What was good for the gander was good for the goose, he’d said with a whiff of humor. One of the oddities of reviewing her own scan was the realization that she fell into the tiny percentage of the mundane population with an unconnected sub-optic nerve. Perhaps there was a mage somewhere in her family history; Amy wished Mom were alive to ask.

  “Three weeks ago, we operated on Patient B, a twenty-two-year-old male whose magical perception did not develop. We have termed his condition sub-optic nerve hypoplasia. Magical intervention has not been able to correct this kind of visual impairment to the sub-optic nerve itself. While Gerhard Hass’ sub-optic nerve became non-functional due to damage inflicted through surgery—”

  “The Amir’s surgeons cut his sub-optic nerve,” Eli murmured in an aside to Dr. Villar, who nodded.

  “—Patient B’s sub-optic nerve simply failed to fully develop. Through a series of nerve cell grafts, we connected Patient B’s sub-optic nerves below his optic nerves in the occipital lobe.” Amy moved her pointer to identify the new connections on his post-op MRI.

  “And he can perceive magical energy now?” Dr. Villar asked.

  “Yes. Almost immediately after the surgery, the operation to connect his sub-optic nerve was successful. Via-Enchanter, would you care to elaborate further?” Amy moved from the podium to hand the laser pointer to Ted.

  “Thank you, Dr. Bant.” Ted stood and began to explain his part of this morning’s presentation.

  “A mage’s perception of magical energy is essential to their ability to manipulate magick. While there are a few reported cases of magical synesthesia — notably among great mages such as Aphrodite and Chía — magical perception is otherwise always visual. Mages oscillate their view of white light between their optic and sub-optic nerves, thus sensing an overlay of magical energy atop mundane sight.

  “It isn’t quite like infrared or night vision goggles, gentlemen. Toggling between images from the optic or sub-optic nerve is a learned skill, typically developed by the age of ten. But unless their vision is particularly acute, mages perceive the world through both senses simultaneously. In order to prevent an overload of sensation for Patient B, before he awakened from surgery, we reduced the amount of white light in his room. Then we gradually increased the volume or ‘brightness’ as you would call it, while monitoring the patient’s tolerance. As you may be aware, the level of ambient magical force differs greatly depending on the environment.

  “In a magick-poor city like Boston, most ambient energy is derived from the sun or moon itself, and settles in various reservoirs. Since Boston is not a high-energy location, it was an ideal setting for this particular operation. Keeping the patient here for a period of time was also sensible, as the Danjou Enclave is located in the Mojave Desert, which has the highest concentration of magical force in North America.”

  Ted was not interrupted, although they had all heard this before. Amy allowed her mind to wander. Perhaps Eli had already explained to Villar that the “reservoirs” of which Ted spoke were actually people, and to a lesser extent plants, animals, and objects. The fact that the mages pulled magick out of people to cast their spells had been a disconcerting revelation.

  While Ted had assured her that she would never notice the difference one way or another, it was unsettling. All the magical devices they relied on — from air conditi
oners and refrigerators to electric plants and garbage disintegrators — supposedly used silica salt to maintain their spells. With the price of silica salt so high, Amy wondered if the mages were researching how to power them with energy stored in mundanes.

  Amy glanced at the men from the DoD. Both appeared to be focusing intently on Ted’s explanation, but Amy suspected that the real reason they were here was to meet Patient B before he was whisked back to the enclave. She wouldn’t be allowed access to him there — mundanes weren’t allowed into the gated mage communities. If the DoD had further doubts about continuing to fund the project, seeing the results could sway them.

  Perhaps bringing Patient B home was more about their subject as a person, as opposed to a signal that the Danjou were pulling out. Both of Barry’s parents were Danjou elders, and while he had spoken with them since the operation, neither had come to visit. Amy hoped that was all it was.

  “Gentlemen,” Amy stood up after Ted finished explaining the Barry’s magical perception test scores. “Before we visit the patient, please remember that his mundane vision was compromised by the operation. While we are still working to understand and correct that problem, at this point the patient is unable to see details such as facial expressions, although he can perceive the outline of most people and objects. Are there any questions?”

  “Good morning, Barry,” Amy said as she and Ted walked into his room. Eli was taking Villar and Thompson on a brief tour, and Graham and Arnie had gone back to work reviewing the fMRIs.

  “Hey Doc,” Barry replied, turning away from the window at the far end of his room to stare at her. Barry shared many of the same facial features that his cousin Ted had, but Barry’s navy-blue eyes gave him a guileless expression that made him seem even younger than twenty-two.

  His incisions had healed, and apart from losing his mundane sight, he had no further complications. He had also proven to be a remarkably easy-going patient. While most others of his age would have become antsy to leave their room, Barry had spent the past few weeks either standing at his window and staring out into the Boston streets below, or teaching himself to juggle with the three bean bags filled with silica-salt that Ted had given him.

  “How are you feeling?” Ted asked.

  “Great,” Barry replied. “No changes from yesterday.”

  Amy walked over to check his head. They had removed the staples ten days ago, and the incision site was a faint line just above the base of his head. He’d have a white scar about seven centimeters long just behind his ear, but it would soon be undetectable unless someone were looking for it. Amy looked at his chart. There was really no physical reason why he couldn’t be discharged.

  “Barry, Dr. Villar and Commander Thompson from the Defense Department are here visiting us and wanted to speak with you this morning if you’re up for it,” Amy said.

  “Sure,” Barry replied. “That’s no problem.” They had told Barry earlier in the week that the DoD would like to visit, and Barry had been remarkably easy-going about that as well.

  “Any change in your vision, Barry?” Ted asked.

  “No. No change. It’s really amazing. You’re covered in glitter again, Doc,” Barry replied, turning to look out the window again.

  “What do you see, Barry?” Amy asked. She’d asked the same question daily ever since he had begun standing at the window after the operation.

  “It’s just so beautiful,” he replied. Like he always did; Barry wasn’t especially descriptive.

  Amy looked at Ted, who just shrugged. She remembered his comments at dinner last week: like describing a rainbow to a blind man.

  “Are the colors still swirling? Have you been able to detect any patterns?” Amy wondered, watching Barry’s profile as he stood transfixed by the window.

  “They change so frequently. It’s better than any movie I’ve ever seen. Little sparks of color.” Barry had an almost rhapsodic expression on his face. If she hadn’t seen his affect before surgery, Amy would have been concerned that the surgery had impacted his emotional state to a clinical degree. But even before the surgery, Barry had been almost simple in his demeanor.

  “I’m going to see if Jonah Eris can come help you learn how to interpret your vision once you’re back at the enclave,” Ted said.

  Barry turned away from the window to face Ted. “Back at the enclave?” he repeated, his face suddenly wiped of all expression.

  Amy was concerned by the sudden change and shifted nervously. “Other than the loss of your mundane sight, you’ve made a fantastic recovery. Honestly, it’s been unfair of us to have kept you away so long,” Amy said.

  “Your father requested your return,” Ted said without expression.

  “I see,” Barry said.

  There was an awkward moment of silence before Ted pulled a glasses case from his jacket pocket, and took out a wire-rimmed pair of old-fashioned spectacles. “Barry, I got these from a friend of a friend. I want you to have them.”

  “Wow, they sparkle like crazy!” Barry said.

  “You’re seeing the spell embedded in the glass,” Ted replied. “It’s a complex spell that our best silica enchanters haven’t been able to replicate.”

  “What do they do?” Amy asked.

  “They allow the mundane blind to see,” Ted replied, handing the glasses to Barry, who put them on immediately.

  “You have a cure for blindness?” Amy asked, shocked.

  “They are … hard to come by,” Ted said, then dropped his voice to whisper for Amy’s ears only, “They were made in Arabia.” That explained why they were so hard to come by. Arabia had been interdicted for almost a decade, and relations were only getting worse. The U.S. had no trading relationship with them whatsoever anymore, and had been pressuring its NATO allies to cut them off completely.

  It made sense that Arabian mages would have created something like this. Blindness ran in Amir Khalid’s family — his mother was said to have been both magically and mundanely blind, and now his younger sister had been stricken with magical blindness. In fact, it was the Dictator’s ongoing and quite personal quest to cure blindness that kept the DoD’s interest in Project Hathor alive.

  Barry lifted the glasses off, then let them settle down on his nose again. He peered outside with them, then took them off altogether, shaking his head. “No thanks,” he said, handing them back to Ted. “I never want to see the world through my old eyes again.”

  “But they can help if you want to read or look at the computer—” Ted started.

  “No way,” Barry said flatly. “I can’t see magick with them on. I never want to see the world so plain again.”

  “I know they only permit you to see in black and white, but they would enable you to have almost a full range of mundane vision,” Ted said, sounding somewhat insulted.

  “I never want to have mundane sight again,” Barry declared. “This surgery was the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t know how I was able to exist before! When I see now, I taste the vision. I hear music in my eyes. This is beyond anything so dull and lifeless as the sight I had before. I don’t know how mundanes live with themselves. No offense, Doc.” Barry ended his passionate tirade by falling back into the bland, superficial charm he had exuded before.

  Ted folded up the glasses silently and put them back into the case. “We’re flying commercial. Our flight leaves at ten tonight. Make sure you’re ready to go by seven,” he said without expression. Amy watched, nonplussed, as Ted walked out of the room without waiting for a reply. Meanwhile, Barry picked up one of the bean bags Ted had given him and began rolling it in his hand, his face a blank mask. Beyond her worry that she was losing access to her only research subject, Amy was growing increasingly concerned at his reaction to what should have been welcome news.

  “Barry, while you’re physically able to travel, you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” Amy told him.

  “My father wants me to come home. I have to go,” Barry’s voice was emotionless. />
  “It would definitely be easier for us to continue our research if you remained in Boston. I can arrange for you to have an apartment through campus housing.”

  “You don’t get it. This project is my father’s project. If I don’t go home, there is no project anymore.” Amy thought she saw him struggle to plaster the carefree expression back onto his face. “I’m a mage now,” Barry said. “My mom told me when we talked last week that she was organizing a binding ceremony.”

  “Binding ceremony?” Amy repeated.

  “It hasn’t been done on a grown-up in over a hundred years. But of course there are mages around who remember attending them back then. My mom has been picking their brains. I just didn’t expect her to get it together this fast.”

  “What’s a binding ceremony?” Amy asked.

  “The geas binding to the Danjou. All mages have it. It’s a … a status symbol,” Barry replied. His lie was obvious.

  “You undergo a ritual binding to your enclave? What does that do?”

  “It’s a loyalty pledge of sorts. Unbreakable. Bound in ties to all the Danjou. Like a marine’s tattoo: Semper Fi. A ceremony kind of like a bris — you know, the covenant of Abraham? I don’t know. It’s special. Sets you apart. An unbreakable bond for all your life. Like that book, Unbound.”

  Barry was mixing so many metaphors he made no sense. Amy had heard of the book he referenced, but had never really been interested in literature.

  “Look, Doc,” Barry continued. “I’m kind of tired now. There’s a lot I gotta do before I leave, I guess. And those Defense guys are coming around. I kinda want to get my act together, if you know what I mean.”

  Barry looked so lost, Amy felt sorry for him. She had never been known for having a particularly good bedside manner. She was a surgeon, not a psychiatrist, for Christsake. But listening to Barry, watching as his energy seemed to shrink inward and his whole demeanor shifted from happy to resigned, she wondered if she shouldn’t keep him at the hospital a little longer. But there was no medical reason not to sign his discharge.