Chapter #83Fortunate Son by: Seuzz   "Fane's goal," says Professor Hyde-White, "is to bring magic into the modern world in the same way and for the same reasons we brought chemistry into it. To create a world of power, knowledge, comfort and prosperity as far beyond our era as our era is beyond the Middle Ages.
"Will you join us, Mr. Prescott? Will you help us better the lot of mankind?"
There's only one thing to say: "I thought I had."
He flashes a smile. "As an employee, yes. I mean as a researcher. As an engineer. As one who will help unlock the mysteries of the worlds we do not see."
That does cause you to rear back. It's like going to work for your dad's company as a janitor, and then being offered a promotion to aeronautical engineer. "I don't know anything about this stuff," you protest. "Sure I played with the masks. But I don't understand how they work. And I've never been good at school. My grades were-- Not awful, but they weren't A's, and I'm never gonna be a-- A professor!" You gesture at him.
He laughs--a dry but warm sound, a chuckle of genuine amusement. "My dear Mr. Prescott, I am perfectly familiar with your academic achievements, and I assure you that they have nothing to do with what we want or require. As for your becoming a professor--" His eyes twinkle. "Yes, I rather doubt you would ascend to that very lowly station. But where it counts, I am quite certain you would quickly outshine me."
You stare at him, dumbfounded.
"I have compared magic to nuclear physics," Professor Hyde-White says. "But magic is not a subject or a discrete field of inquiry. Say rather that every field of study shades off into the esoteric and the-- Well, the occult. There are 'magical' kinds of physics--you have already touched lightly at them--and of astronomy. Astrology is only mostly nonsense. There are magical kinds of medicine and biology, and even magical kinds of zoology. There are such things as elves and trolls and ghosts, though they only vaguely resemble their literary and cinematic representations. Literary elves have about as much relation to real elves as Star Wars has to the Apollo Project." He looks a little uncomfortable. "There are even magical forms of genetics and biochemistry. Some people are born with prodigious skills." His lips whiten and disappear as he gazes carefully at you. "I believe you have already met two such individuals?"
It takes you a moment to understand the allusion "Frank and Joe, you mean?"
"Yes. They are quite bad boys, though I'm sure you had a high impression of them while you were, ah, playing their part."
You redden a little, but he doesn't seem to notice.
"In calling them 'bad boys' I am not reflecting on their moral character, which I'm sure is sterling." His tone turns a little satirical. "But they were misguided. They belonged to an organization of like-gifted, like-minded individuals whose intentions--though quite well-meaning--are fundamentally hostile to the improvement of mankind and mankind's lot. Their principles are quite high-minded. Like the inquisitors of old, they seek to protect men from harm by suppressing the fact of magic. In practice, they are quite selfish, and keep its secrets for themselves."
"I really don't remember anything about them," you stammer.
"Yes, you wouldn't," the professor says. "We have already made some very cautious experiments with the Libra, and we understand how assumed memories and dispositions quickly fade. They are even difficult to assume. Well, for some of us."
He stretches his long legs before him. "Those boys, their prodigies were of a special kind. They had, for lack of a better word, 'powers'. But the kind of biochemical magic that I am describing can manifest in various ways, and oftentimes they do not manifest in the form of physical prodigies. I will confess that we have almost no notion of how biochemical magic work, and are only aware that it exists. But we do have ways of detecting its presence, and of anticipating the forms that it will take. Bob did not describe your test results to you?"
"I didn't even know I took a test."
"You gave him a saliva sample."
"Oh. Yeah. Was that it?"
"Yes. You displayed a skill that surprised him, and he had the wit to follow up with it. He shared the results with me and I made my own investigation. So here we are." He smiles in a meaningful way.
The hair on the top of your head starts to rise. "Are you saying that I--?"
"Quite. You are doubly blessed, in fact, with biochemical prodigies."
You feel very faint, and list a little to the side. You can only stare at the professor, though your eyes have a hard time focusing on him.
"One of your prodigies, we had already discovered empirically, though we did not recognize its roots. That is your skill at impersonation, in burying yourself so deeply in the life and mind of another that discovery is practically impossible, and you seem able to do it with hardly any thought or effort. But it's your other prodigy that excites me, and prompts me to invite you to take this new position with us. Tell me, do you have any mechanical aptitudes?"
"I don't think so. I could never build anything. I sometimes pissed my dad off by taking things apart, but I could never get them back together again."
The professor chuckles dryly. "And your math skills were also, shall we say, unimpressive. But we are quite certain that you possess an aptitude for-- Let us call it 'magical engineering'." He cocks an eyebrow. "I have the strong impression that you would take to magic the way Edison took to light bulbs, or Mr. Steven Jobs took to computer design."
You rub your forehead. "This doesn't make any sense to me," you say faintly. "I can't even do card tricks."
Hyde-White laughs again. "No, it wouldn't make sense, not until you'd begun to make a study. We can give you the basics; indeed, that was what Bob was supposed to do with you during your sojourn in Saratoga Falls. But after reviewing your results, I decided you could make far swifter and greater progress by studying here."
"With you?"
"Not directly, no. We have tutors, like Bob. We have advanced researchers. I confess," he slowly adds, "that you will likely surpass them, and quickly too. At least, I hope so. That is my hypothesis, and your help would be of inestimable value to us."
You sink back in your chair, and gnaw on a knuckle. Back to school, it sounds like. You're in too much of a daze to think more than that. You're not sure why Hyde-White is being so tentative in describing this future to you; you are under the strong impression that you need to do whatever he says, and that he's already decided for you.
But apparently he hasn't. "I flew you out here," he says, "because here is where you would undergo training. But as I said, you are doubly gifted, and there are two ways you could help us. One is as a researcher and engineer, and as I've said, you would be a tremendous boon to us. A tremendous boon to all mankind. But you have the other gift as well, for impersonation. You can help us there as well."
"How?" you ask sharply.
He hesitates. "As an agent," he says. "We must perforce operate discreetly, and advance our goals indirectly. To be blunt, we must often manipulate others, to protect ourselves and to-- Well, to seize advantages." He steeples his fingers, and picks through his words very carefully. "Mr. Kim, I believe, told you that his job involves espionage, spying on some of our competitors. It would be quite easy to undertake such missions if one of our agents--"
"If you replaced someone who works for them with one of your own agents," you say bluntly. "If you replaced them with me."
"Yes," he says, and doesn't seem relieved by your quick understanding of his very obvious point. "And you would do best at whichever job appealed more to you. That is why I would leave the decision to you.
"I should also add," he continues, "that the two jobs would not be mutually exclusive. As an infiltrator, you would have to understand how our occult techniques work, and would have to undertake a study of them. And as a research student you would be living under a mask for the first few months, at least, until we could get you an identity under your own face established. I think we would also use the Libra Personae as you first textbook."
"Can I think about it?" you ask.
"Of course," he says, sounding surprised. "You have the evening and night, and as there is such an overlap at the beginning, I will give you quite a bit of leeway in changing your mind even after you've made some progress."
He stands, and takes your cup, which is still half full and lost all its heat. "Come. We have a hotel room booked for you. You will find clothes and a first mask, something you can use to navigate the college and town without getting lost or making yourself obvious as a tourist."
* * * * *
It's a small and homely hotel that he drives you to--almost more like an inn than a hotel--and as the winter light begins to fail you find yourself in a small but comfortable room. There is a suitcase with some slacks and sweaters, and a blue mask. There's a name inside it--PAUL GREGORY GIBSON--but you don't put it on. You look out into the gloom through a crack in the curtains. Outside, in the gloom, you glimpse traffic and passersby, and a raffish figure with flyaway hair handing out leaflets to pedestrians.
To leap ahead as a spy: "Diana's Doppelgangers" 
To leap ahead as a researcher: "The Vulcans" |
You've come to the end of the story. You can: - Step back to the previous chapter.
- Start reading the story from the beginning.
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