Science and Sorcery

by Christopher Nuttall

  Doctor Linda Roseburg was, according to the Defence Intelligence Agency, one of the foremost researchers in the country. Matt had read the unclassified portion of her file and had to admit that the Doctor was clearly a genius. And, unlike a couple of other researchers, willing to open her mind more to encompass Golem’s existence. One particular researcher had looked at Golem and decided that he couldn't possibly exist.

  “I think we’re going to have that feeling for quite some time,” Matt said, finally. The task force had rounded up as many researchers as it could on very short notice, but they’d had to borrow FBI and DIA research labs until they could move to a disused military base well away from civilians. “What’s wrong with him?”

  Linda snorted. “You mean apart from the fact he really shouldn’t be able to live?”

  She shook her head. “We do x-rays and they reveal that his body is almost completely made of clay, apart from the bones, which appear to be made of stone. We can’t pull out a sample for analysis because every attempt we’ve made to cut into his skin – if we can call it skin – heals within seconds. There’s no logical reason why he should be able to walk and talk, let alone work magic.”

  “A wizard did it,” Matt said, deadpan.

  “So he says,” Linda agreed. “On the other hand, they used to prove that bumblebees couldn't fly. And bumblebees clearly can fly, so there was something wrong with the research.”

  Matt nodded, impatiently. Golem had put up with being poked and prodded with far more patience than a human, although he had seemed doubtful of the value of the whole endeavour. As he didn't need to sleep, he was rotated between medical researchers, who studied his physical makeup, and historians who wanted to learn about the past world that history had forgotten. And, as the researchers invented tests for magical research, he cast spells for their experiments.

  “It gets more confusing,” Linda admitted. “He has two different camouflage spells, both of which make him look human. The first one fools human minds, but not security cameras; the second fools security cameras as well. Our best theory is that the first spell works directly on the human mind, therefore not fooling mechanical surveillance devices, while the second creates a false image. How long is it going to be until humans develop such magic for themselves?”

  “Not long, according to Golem,” Matt said, grimly. Golem was vastly knowledgeable about some issues, but surprisingly ignorant about others. Or maybe it wasn't too surprising; he’d been ripped from his world, where he’d known how everything functioned, and dumped into a world that had to be very alien to his eyes. “And does mana interfere with technology?”

  Linda hesitated. “We’re not sure,” she said. “So far, Golem’s mere existence doesn’t seem to cause problems with our technology, unless the frankly baffling results of x-rays come from magical interference. We’ve been checking for reports of technological failure and suchlike all around the world, but nothing has popped up that suggests that technology is about to fail. However, when he works a major spell, something interferes slightly with our detectors.”

  “That doesn't sound good,” Matt said.

  “Neither does EMP, and that is perfectly understandable,” Linda said, firmly. “Mana – or rather using mana – presumably produces some energy, just like burning oil produces heat and fumes. Given time, we may be able to detect magic at long distance, particularly after we puzzle out the laws of science that govern magic. But that’s quite some time away.”

  “Wonderful,” Matt muttered. The President’s speech had shocked the world – and unleashed a wave of panic. Everyone had heard the reports about werewolves, and that would have been bad enough, but outright magic? How could the law cope with someone who used Voodoo to strike down their enemies? The Secret Service were already panicking over the dangers of someone trying to curse the President. “Could we detect a magician if we tried?”

  “Eventually, yes,” Linda said, “but the laws don’t seem to quite make sense. We seem to be able to detect something when the spell is actually cast, yet we can't pick up anything when the spell is functioning. We’re still fighting over just how this works, even without the elves and dwarfs.”

  Matt had to smile. One idea Caitlyn had been able to put into action quickly had been to round up every fantasy writer in Washington and invite them to join the research program as theorists. They’d rapidly divided into two groups; the elves, who believed that magic existed in harmony with nature, and the dwarfs, who believed that magic could be rendered comprehensible, and then functional. It didn't help that the elves tended to believe in a bucolic paradise without the presence of dirty technology, while the dwarfs took a more cynical view of the universe. Judging from Golem’s patient lectures, the world that had birthed him had been far from ideal for the vast majority of humanity. Those who had been able to manipulate mana had all the power.

  He was still mulling the concept over an hour later, as he joined Golem in one of the testing chambers. The FBI normally used them for analysing compounds mixed together by terrorists, knowing that some compounds might be unstable and explode if handled badly, but this time it was being outfitted for scientific research. Golem waited patiently as the researchers set up all kinds of equipment and then cast the flame spell on demand. A tiny column of fire rose up from his clay hand and danced towards the ceiling, almost hypnotically.

  “Interesting,” Linda said, studying the readings from the various sensors. “The fire doesn't seem to be behaving normally at all. And there was a surge of heat before the flames flickered into existence.”

  Matt glanced over at her. “What does it mean?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea,” Linda said. She looked up at him and grinned. “Cutting-edge research, officer. Who knows where we will be tomorrow?”

  She raised her voice as the fire died away. “That’s good, Golem,” she said. “Can you do the water spell now?”

  Matt looked over at Golem with interest. From what he’d said, apprentices to the various sorcerers had learned the fire and water spells before all others, at least when they’d developed their magic and started their formal training. Matt could understand why they might want the two spells to be mastered quickly – they both held the promise of disaster if they went wrong – but he had the uneasy feeling that it wouldn't be easy to teach others. Golem simply didn't know what his creator had taken for granted.

  “Very interesting,” Linda mused, a moment later. Golem had created a small stream of water that had risen up into the air, and then splashed down on the floor. Unlike the fire spell, the water spell had taken nearly a minute to work properly. “According to the sensors, the level of moisture in the air dropped sharply just after Golem started working magic. I wonder if the spell really concentrated the water molecules in the air to the point where they could become visible.”

  Matt saw the implications at once. “If the room had been completely dry,” he said, “the spell might not have worked at all.”

  “Or it might have sucked moisture out of our bodies,” Linda said. “Or perhaps it would have started transmuting the atmosphere into water droplets.”

  The scientists who were attached to the research program – and therefore knew that Golem existed – were still in deep denial over some of the spells Golem’s creator had been able to cast. Golem himself – a thinking being, even if he wasn't human – was extraordinary, but they had had the concept of artificial intelligence to work with to help wrap their heads around the problem. However, Golem had mentioned both transmutation and transfiguration – and the latter, in particular, messed with their minds. What possible version of reality allowed a wizard to turn a man into a toad?

  Some of the other implications were just as startling. They’d had to explain to Golem that diamonds were expensive, after a misunderstanding involving a research assistant who had been wearing what Golem had taken to be a magic ring. After some questioning, they’d realised that diamond was little more than altered coal and, back in t
he past, it had been easy for even a poor mage to create his own diamonds. It had magical uses – much to the delight of some of the elves, who had been talking about the healing power of crystals – but it hadn't had much worth. Given time, Matt was sure that some magician from the modern world was going to start trying to sell diamonds or gold and make himself rich before the world caught on.

  “I think there may be several different sets of laws, depending on what you’re doing,” Linda said, finally. “It may be years before we have a grand unifying theory of magic.”

  Leaving her to continue her research, Matt headed to the office that had been set aside for Caitlyn. Her appointment as head of the task force – which some of the more disrespectful agents had taken to calling the Mage Force – had kept her busy as she tried to set up research programs, outreach programs and coordinate with law-enforcement officers around the country. She’d even had to work with officers from other countries, which hadn't been quite so bad as working with lawyers. A woman had been bitten during the first werewolf outbreak and, unlike some of the others, had been infected herself. She was now trying to sue the werewolf who’d bit her for everything he owned.

  “Come on in,” Caitlyn said, putting down the phone. “Did they come up with a working test for werewolves?”

  Matt nodded. He’d been feeling out of place in the FBI complex – he knew very little about scientific research – but Caitlyn had pointed out that she needed someone to keep an eye on the scientists. Theory was all very well and good, yet they needed something practical, something they could use to get the country through a very uncomfortable period. And then there was the threat of the Thirteen. It hadn't taken too long to establish that Golem didn't know where they’d been imprisoned, something that had puzzled Matt until one of the researchers deduced that they’d been sealed away in a set of pocket dimensions. The implication was that they could appear anywhere.

  “All of the known werewolves have the same substance in their blood,” he said, by way of explanation. “God alone knows where it comes from” – Golem hadn't been able to assist with that question – “but it seems to be lacking in some of the bite victims. The general theory is that they escaped infection, although we’ll be keeping them under observation until the next full moon has come and gone.”

  Caitlyn scowled. Keeping innocent civilians under lock and key didn't sit well with her, even though there was little choice. The government had done what it could to ensure that the civilians would be able to return to their lives, if they turned out not to be werewolves, but it wouldn't be enough. No doubt the Bolsheviks had started out by rationalising their actions as for the greater good too.

  “One amusing point; one of the people who the police found naked in the great outdoors wasn’t a werewolf,” Matt added. In hindsight, the police should have known when they’d tested him for alcohol and discovered that he’d drunk himself silly, if only because none of the werewolves seemed to be able to get drunk. But they hadn't wanted to take chances. “He doesn't have the werewolf factor in his blood.”

  “That's something, at least,” Caitlyn said. She looked down at the paperwork scattered over her desk. “Has there been anything on why some people became werewolves?”

  “Golem thinks that they were descended from werewolves who lived back when the mana was strong,” Matt said. He’d said the same about the other warped humans, even the mermaids. “The doctors keep asking how such traits could have been passed down for thousands of years without spreading to everyone.”

  Caitlyn saw the implications at once. “So we could all be werewolves, or mermaids, or vampires, or...”

  “It’s a possibility,” Matt agreed. He scowled; Golem had raised a point they should have seen earlier. “They’re also not behaving as they did back in the past. Golem says that werewolves without the ability to control themselves shifted during the nights of the full moon, not for just one day. It’s possible that the werewolves and suchlike we saw now are only the ones who need a relatively low level of mana to transform.”

  “Joy,” Caitlyn said, rubbing her forehead. “Is there any more good news?”

  “Maybe,” Matt said. “The analysts started looking at the families of the known werewolves, trying to see if there were any patterns. One pattern popped out very quickly; every one of the original werewolves came from a family that had some mixed blood.”

  Caitlyn blinked. “Mixed blood?”

  “Their parents or grandparents had interracial marriages,” Matt explained. “Katie Sheehan” – he shuddered at the memory – “had a Native American grandmother, for example, while Ambrose Jackson’s father is black. It may be just a coincidence, but the researchers say it seems to be the only thing they have in common.”

  “We’d better keep that one firmly to ourselves,” Caitlyn said. “The last thing we need is to have everyone with mixed blood portrayed as a potential werewolf.”

  “Some of the researchers have even weirder theories,” Matt added. “One of them thinks that people with mixed blood become werewolves and suchlike because they combine two different strands of pure magic, while people with pure blood become proper magicians...”

  Caitlyn snorted. “That makes absolutely no sense,” she pointed out. “Is that code for saying that white magic and black magic are two different things, and therefore they should never be allowed to breed?”

  “I don’t know,” Matt said, “but Golem seemed to have real problems coming to grips with the idea of racism. His society judged by talent and raw power, not skin colour.”

  “Lucky them,” Caitlyn said. Matt could imagine the challenges she’d faced climbing up the ranks of the FBI. “What do you make of Golem, Mighty Hunter?”

  Matt flushed. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what to make of Golem’s claim that he was a Hunter, descended from Hunters. His family had never been anything special as far as he knew; his great-grandfather had left Ireland to emigrate to America, without bringing any records of his own ancestors. But with Golem’s creation at least six thousand years in the past, an unimaginable span of time, it was hardly surprising that there were no records. He didn't feel special at all.

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted, finally. The psychologists who had studied Golem had reported that he wasn’t human. When Matt had pointed out that humans were typically not made of clay, and they were wasting his time by pointing out the obvious, they’d explained that Golem didn't think like a human. “I think he’s telling us the truth, as he knows it, but there are some pretty big gaps in his knowledge.”

  “Starting with just what happened in the last days of magic,” Caitlyn mused. There was a near-total disconnect between Golem’s world and the present day; apart from a handful of legends, Golem might as well have been talking about a fantasy world living at one remove from Earth. “And with just what the Thirteen did to become immortal.”

  One of the researchers had pointed out the flaw in Golem’s story, if it was a flaw. The Thirteen had presumably made themselves immortal through magic, just as Golem himself enjoyed a kind of immortality. But logically they should have died when the mana went away, unless their prison had allowed enough mana to leak through to keep them alive. Golem’s creator had been convinced that they would survive, which was why he’d created Golem, but no one knew for sure. They had to assume the worst.

  “We keep plugging away at the problem and we watch for signs of their return,” Matt said. Golem had freely admitted that there wasn't enough mana – yet – to perform some of the more outrageous spells. “And we keep working on protective tricks for society.”

  Caitlyn nodded. How did someone prove – legally – that Voodoo had been used to cause a person’s death? The researchers had dug up a handful of cases from the British Empire in the Far East, but most of them had involved trickery rather than actual magic. Or had there been just enough mana in the air to make them work?

  “You need something else to do,” she said, dryly. “Do you want to go to New York and
try to track down whoever killed three kids in school?”

  “Detective work,” Matt said, but he had to admit that she was right. Golem had explained that young magicians manifested uncontrolled magic when they came into their powers and that it often led to injury – or death. Some magical societies had even pushed their children into developing magic by putting them in life-threatening situations. “Someone has to do it.”

  “I’d go, if I could,” Caitlyn said. She pointed to the paperwork. “I used to think that the managers were out to bully us and steal all the credit from our hard work. Now I look at the paperwork and I find it hard to blame them for being so crabby all the time.”

  “Rather you than me,” Matt said.

  “Asshole,” Caitlyn said, without heat. “I’ll give you documents that should clear you to speak to everyone involved. At least the President ensured that there won’t be any overt disbelief.”

  “Yeah,” Matt agreed. “And the number of crazies will have gone upwards too.”

  Chapter Twelve

  New York, USA

  Day 9

  “I have a question for you,” Calvin said. “What does God want with a starship?”