Paul lowered his arm and tucked both of his hands into his pants pockets while he avoided Freud’s eyes. “Oh. Okay. What would you suggest?”
“You must do this incrementally, or the stress on your brain will kill you for sure,” Freud snapped with a disdainful scowl. “Any idiot should know that!”
“Okay. Thank you, Herr Doktor. I will tackle this incrementally. Goodbye.” Paul snapped his fingers, suddenly glad that the conversation was finished.
Dr. Freud faded from sight.
Startled, Paul realized that he had not actually spoken the incantation necessary to make Freud go away. Yes, he had visualized it, thought of the words, and snapped his fingers, but he had not said the words out loud. It was a sure sign that he was getting better and more accustomed to casting spells.
But back to the issue at hand, namely, making himself smarter.
So, this might be dangerous? Okay, slow and careful Paul would be.
He went over and lay on the bed.
“In the name of Jeopardy, Wheel of Fortune, and The Price is Right, may five percent of the recommended modifications be made!” he said apprehensively, casting the spell.
A sudden explosion of pure pain erupted in his head. He closed his eyes, the palms of his hands pressed tightly against his temples. God, the pain! Wave after wave of it beat against him, all the muscles in his body spasming in concert, and he cried out for relief.
Then the pain slowly started to fade. Paul gritted his teeth and endured as best as he could. After a few minutes, he was able to open his eyes again. Slowly, his muscles began to relax, leaving behind a whole series of dull aches and twinges.
And that was only five percent.
• • • •
Rubbing his throbbing temples, Paul tried hard to test his supposed new mental powers, but he failed to find any discernible difference in his mental processes. Oh, sure, he had only implemented five percent of the doctor’s recommendations, but he thought he would feel something different!
On the other hand, he shook his head and closed his eyes, relieved to discover that he still felt like Paul Armstead. At least, as far as he could tell, he was still him. Thankfully, he hadn’t made things worse for himself.
Once again, Paul sighed, frustrated by the lack of detectable results. He was still going about all of this the wrong way. He would be dead of thirst and starvation long before he’d have the time to make himself smart enough to escape this mountaintop.
It was time to call forth the cavalry.
With a wave of his hand and another incantation, Paul brought Merlin back. The old wizard glanced around the area.
“Still stranded, I see,” he observed smugly.
Frowning, Paul ignored the taunt. “Tell me about the energies involved in magical spells. What does it take to transport objects? What is required for me to leave this mountaintop and return home?”
Merlin stroked his beard and shrugged indifferently. “I suppose you do have a need to know, though this is as tiresome as writing a politician’s campaign speech. Very well.”
Pulling forth a long black wand from his robe, he flashed it through the air. In response, his image morphed into that of a tall thin man with a bald head, recessed chin, thin gray mustache, round rimless spectacles, and a modern black three-piece suit with a small bright-red bowtie. A wooden podium also appeared in front of him, complete with a gooseneck silver microphone.
Glaring at Paul, Merlin tapped his wand on the edge of the podium and spoke into the mike. “Now, class, pay close attention here. I don’t like to repeat myself.”
He waved his wand, and a large projection screen appeared, six feet wide by three high, floating in midair between them. On it was the image of a wizard wearing a pointed hat magically lifting a large boulder into the air.
Clearing his throat, Professor Merlin began speaking in a near monotone voice, managing to imitate the majority of Paul’s college professors back at University of Southern California. “Very well. To start with, there is nothing indeterminate about magic. Don’t think of magic as some separate, nebulous, and unknowable art that is subject to individual interpretation and therefore not subject to the scientific method or experimentation. Instead, magical properties are just as much a part of the physical universe in which we live as any other scientific or physical property. Magical powers follow fixed natural laws and scientific principles, including the use of universal constants.
“Now, in terms you would understand, it takes just as much energy to manipulate matter with magic as it does to do so by physical means. Whatever a machine can do, magic can do as well, assuming you have a talisman and can tap an available energy source. There are two major differences. First, there is no friction or inefficiency involved with magic. Second, as a magician, you can do anything within the limits of your imagination that is also within the limits of your talisman, so long as you don’t violate the laws of physics. You can therefore do many things with your magic that machines are not yet able to do.
“There are two methods preferred by most magicians to move objects. If the distance is short, less than a few hundred yards, then you can cast a spell to apply a force to the object in question and move it to wherever you want. For greater distances, you can generate a trans-spatial portal. A portal brings two separate areas of space-time into congruence. The interface will resemble a window in space, one that you can both see through and walk through, from one location to another on the opposite side of the portal.
“In terms of power...” Merlin’s voice droned on, Paul listening with rapt attention.
• • • •
Paul rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, trying to massage away the throbbing headache he had. Merlin’s lecture on the properties of magical powers had been nothing less than amazing, but it had also been intense, full of new and radical concepts, and laced with lots and lots of numbers and equations. In some respects, it reminded Paul of the physics courses he had taken in college.
It seemed that all matter in the periodic table had magical potency. Common elements, like hydrogen and oxygen, had very little, but the rare elements held a lot more. In fact, the rarer an element was, the higher its magical quotient.
In order for Paul to properly use his powers, he needed a talisman. In essence, this was a combination of materials chosen for their magical potency and melded together. A proper talisman would use materials from four different categories: precious metals, precious stones, basal materials, and stellar materials.
Precious metals included gold, silver, platinum, and palladium. A list of precious stones included diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and jade, emeralds being the most potent. Basal materials came from inside the earth, including igneous rock such as carbonatites, obsidian, and orbicular granite. Stellar materials were meteorites, the best being pallasite, an iron-nickel silicate with iridium impurities.
A properly constructed talisman would allow Paul to create a trans-spatial portal, one that would connect his current location to that of Mojave or Edwards Air Force Base. According to Merlin, they were currently standing in the Karakoram Mountain Range, in the northeast quadrant of Pakistan, 7,466 miles from Mojave. From that distance, it would take considerable power to portal Paul home.
“Don’t drift off,” Merlin snapped. “I am not quite done here. There is one last principle to discuss, and it is important! Your spells are, by their nature, generally temporary!”
Paul’s expression must have communicated his confusion. “Temporary? What does that mean?”
Merlin half-smiled in reply and waved a hand in the air. Another two-dimensional display appeared in front of them, showing an image of Paul holding a small bottle in one hand and what looked like several sheets of ordinary paper in the other hand.
“Now,” said Merlin, “let’s suppose that you have some green ink and white paper in hand. And you need money. Presto, you create a few bills.”
On the display, the image of Paul brought the bottle an
d paper together, and in a sudden bright flash of light, he created a stack of bills in both of his fists that looked like $100 bills in US currency.
“And then you spend them.”
The cartoon of Paul was seen handing a few bills over to another person, a man dressed in a white chef’s hat and apron. The chef, in turn, produced a large plate overloaded with food of various types.
“And then you walk away....”
The image of Paul disappeared while the chef on the screen was counting the money. Until, that is, the money suddenly disappeared in another flash of light, to be replaced by sheets of white paper and a gooey glob of green ink. The chef flung both to the ground in disgust, rubbing his hands in an attempt to get rid of all the green ink.
Merlin grinned while the display disappeared. “Magical spells don’t necessarily have permanent results. As a rule of thumb, if you have to exert energy to maintain a spell, then it is temporary. If you don’t, then the effects of your spell are permanent. And any temporary spell will disappear as soon as you leave the vicinity.”
Paul felt a mental numbness at all of it. “Okay, Merlin. All of that’s fine. Now for the $64,000 question. How do I use everything you’ve told me to get off this mountain and back home?”
Merlin chuckled. “That’s strictly up to you. I can see at least a dozen ways that you could make it happen. Think, young man, think! Think like a wizard, not an engineer! Or better yet, combine the two and think like an engineer-wizard!”
Paul grimaced and thought about what Merlin was saying, especially about the construction of a proper talisman. Obviously, there were no precious stones or metals on this mountaintop. There were probably some in the surrounding mountains, buried deep within. But there was no way to access them—even if such truly existed—without a talisman. Another one of those catch-22s. Paul needed them to create a talisman, but he couldn’t get to them without a talisman in hand. He crossed his arms, annoyed. It figured.
A dozen ways off this mountain, and for the life of him, Paul couldn’t see one. An engineer-wizard? Hah! He’d had extensive training in engineering, especially electrical. But none in magic. All Paul could remember about magic was stories about Merlin, Aladdin, and his magic—
The idea hit him like a ton of bricks, and he couldn’t help bursting out in laughter at the silliness of it. There was indeed one way off this mountain, and it was staring him straight in the face!
He looked at Merlin again, a sloppy grin on his face.
“You said that the best materials are precious metals and stones. That implies that there are other metals and materials with lesser degrees of magical powers. True?” Paul asked assertively.
Merlin gave him a full bow. “Yes, of course. In fact, all elements have some degree of magical power,” he repeated.
“Does that include this bed?” Paul asked, although he was already pretty sure of the answer.
Merlin laughed. “Naturally, although some beds have more magic than others! But it is far too low to make a talisman.”
Paul hurried over to the bed and ripped the blanket off. The mattress came off next, and then he was pulling the steel bedrails loose from the headboard. He stretched the blanket out on the grass with a steel rail laid along each end. Then he rolled the rails in the blanket, keeping each turn as tight as possible. The end result was like an ancient scroll but with a blanket instead of parchment paper and bedrails instead of sticks.
Merlin nodded, amused. “Ah, another bright pupil! I do know how to teach them!”
Sitting on the blanket, Paul grabbed one rail in his left hand, the other in his right.
He cast a glance at Merlin. “What magical quotient does iron have?”
Merlin waved a hand indifferently. “That’s carbon steel in the rails, 5.4 kilos’ worth. The quotient is essentially 0.634.”
Paul mulled the information over in his head and then snapped his fingers. “In the name of the abacus, slide rules, and the Commodore 64K, may a virtual scientific calculator appear here in the air.” One did, a Texas Instruments TI-30X IIS, and Paul quickly began “punching” its keys. “Now, let’s see, gravity is 9.8 m/sec2. My weight, plus the rails, plus the blanket...call it 120 kg....” And he did a few calculations. And grinned. “Ah, hah! Combined, the two rails have a fraction over 3.4 kilojoules of energy! More than enough to suit my purposes!”
The calculator disappeared with a quick mental incantation and a wave of the hand.
Paul gripped the rails again. “In the name of the Wright brothers, Charles Lindbergh, and Captain Nice, I command this blanket to be as stiff as a board and to levitate off the ground, going where I will it.”
The blanket snapped taut and leapt six feet into the air. Startled, Paul lost control, the blanket pitching upward and to the left, bucking him off, and he fell to the ground, landing squarely on his keister, temporarily knocking the wind out of him. The moment Paul lost his grip on the blanket and rails, they lost all upward momentum and fell on the grass beside him.
Merlin shook his head sadly. “Not a good first showing, young man. It’s fortunate that you didn’t fall over the edge of the precipice. You would not have walked away from that landing.”
Annoyed at the hologram, Paul breathed raspily while the pain from the impact still radiated up his back and down his right leg. He fired off a dirty look, which Merlin ignored.
When he could properly breathe again, Paul mournfully muttered, “But it looked so easy in the cartoons.”
Merlin’s ears perked up. “Did you say something?”
“Yes, I did,” Paul sardonically replied in a louder voice. “Manufacturer’s note: next year’s model is to include a seat belt.”
As Merlin stroked his beard, he shrugged. “A very practical suggestion, under the circumstances. Are you going to try again?”
Paul winced painfully at the thought. But he really had few options. With a moan, he gathered the rails and blanket and duplicated his earlier effort.
When he was ready, he repeated the spell, adding an altitude limit of three feet and a vertical velocity limit of two inches per second. This time, the blanket under him rose gently, coming to a stop exactly three feet in the air.
Paul quietly hissed, “Now, gently! Let’s do a little tour around the immediate neighborhood.”
The flying blanket made a gentle circle, staying above the grass and well away from the edge of the cliff. For a half hour, with a growing degree of skill, Paul practiced with his newly acquired flying machine, Merlin cackling from the sidelines.
It was only when he felt reasonably confident that Paul increased the height to ten feet off the grass. Another fifteen minutes of practice and he braved a short flight over the edge of the cliff. Everything seemed fine. Paul chuckled at himself and his newfound skill.
Taking a deep breath, he sent the blanket toward the east, in the direction of the snowmelt.
The view below and around him was both fabulous and terrifying. Paul kept a white-knuckled grip on the rails as he breezed through the open skies. Thirty or so feet from the mountaintop, the air suddenly became ice cold, and he shivered from the sub-zero wind chill.
Paul chuckled. Then he belly laughed. He had never felt anything like this in his whole life! His heart thundered in his chest, his blood roared in his veins, and his skin tingled with goosebumps. Never had he felt so alive, so aware of everything around him and of the sensations from all five senses. This was FUN!
“‘It’s still kind of awesome though, right?’” Paul screamed at the top of his lungs, now quoting Fargo from Eureka. “‘We’re in space! I’ve wanted to do this my whole life! Just look out there! It’s beautiful!’”
Flying for three miles, Paul passed a ‘small’ mountain ridge. Beyond that, a small stream popped into view, and he banked to follow its course. There, ahead, was a flat bank on one side of the stream, and he aimed the flying blanket for a soft landing.
When the blanket was on the ground, Paul crawled over the rocky ground to
the stream, which was full of bubbling, pure, clear, freezing cold water. Dipping his cupped hands in, Paul sipped greedily, again and again. When he finally had his fill, he leaned back and wiped his face with a shirtsleeve.
“The best water I’ve ever drank!” he exclaimed, appeased and feeling self-assured again.
“Well done,” Merlin said, lightly applauding. “One challenge mastered. Now, for an encore, what do you do for food? And how do you get home?”
In the excitement of the flight, Paul had forgotten about Merlin. Apparently, the sage had followed Paul from the mountaintop. With a snap of Paul’s fingers and a quick mental spell, Merlin disappeared. That was enough of him for now.
Paul smirked. “There will be time tomorrow to worry about food. At the moment, I feel pretty good about my accomplishments so far.”
Thirst wasn’t a problem anymore, but it had taken all the magical ability he possessed and a whole day’s worth of effort to fly to this stream.
The sun hung low over the mountains, and Paul felt increasingly tired and cold. Returning to the blanket, he went airborne, climbing steadily, and returned to the mountaintop. Once there, a smiling, happy Paul Armstead collapsed of fatigue on the mattress and closed his eyes, falling instantly to sleep.
SEVEN
Northeast quadrant of Pakistan
Karakoram Mountain Range
December
Tuesday, 8:11 a.m. PKT
The next morning, Paul woke up late, his stomach growling in hunger. Rubbing it with one hand, he cast a spell, forcing the hunger pains to go away. Thankfully the spell worked as intended. Good. It was time to get control of his weight anyway, and this was a golden opportunity to start on that objective.
But on second thought, with his newly acquired magical abilities, what did losing weight have to do with not eating? There ought to be a half-dozen different spells to make his body lose weight while he continued to eat a healthy quantity of delicious calories. With a smug nod, Paul grinned, amused at the idea. There would be time to explore his weight-control options later, after he took care of his current situation.
Genie and Engineer 1: The Engineer Wizard Page 8