The Prime Dimension

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The Prime Dimension

Post by Machine Man on Tue Jun 13, 2017 5:53 pm

"History is written by those who are victorious." The lecture had begun. Inside a large room with roughly a hundred initiates filling the rows of seats, a sole figure stood on the stage. He wore no microphone, but his voice projected as if he were. "Or, more accurately, it is written after the victory was won. So how do we know the truth when we see it?" As the speaker paced slowly across the stage, those in the audience remained silent, for they had learned relatively early on that all of Mr. Kraus' questions where rhetorical.

"You'll likely never know. The truth is there, but our ability to perceive it is thwarted by opinions, bias, and just plain lies. So what does it mean, then, when a Master Magician instructs you to use the truth to add fuel to your spells? How are you supposed to use the truth if you don't know what it is or what it looks like?" The speaker stopped, spinning on his heels to face the crowd, a mischievous grin on his face. "You learn what truths you can and use them to form new truths."

Mr. Korva lifted a piece of paper and held it out in front of the class for everyone to see. "You tell me. Observe what you can and tell me. You..." The speaker pointed his finger at a young woman in the front. She stood and smiled as she thought for a moment.

"You're holding a piece of paper."

"Correct, now sit down, because that was too obvious. Someone else?" The young woman looked rather dejected, but she took her seat before all the blood rushed to her face. No one else seemed to want to speak up after that, so Mr. Korva picked someone at random.

"You there, Mr.... Seabrook. Yes, you. Stand up and tell me a truth."

Michael's eyes shot open wide. He had never been called on before. That's why he sat in the corner of the class, and why he made good grades despite never once being recognized. "Come on, come on! I don't have all day."

His temperature rising, Michael slowly stood up and looked at the paper. He did not tremble, for he was not afraid, but he had spent too much time as the center of attention to desire the spotlight again. "Dry paper is flammable," he said, his eyes cast to the side of the room on a blank space on the wall. Mr. Korva smiled, placed a finger from his other hand on the paper, and spoke a single word. Immediately the paper burst into flames.

"Very good," the speaker complimented to Michael, who was already in the process of taking his seat again. "Dry paper is flammable. That is a truth. Notice he did not say that the paper in my hand would catch fire, but he made a general statement based on a truth set forth by the laws of nature. Water does not burn. Fire as a noun does not melt. But if you understand the truth, you can use that truth to enact your spells. A spell is just words, gestures, and components until they have meaning. There is nothing magical about a mirror, unless you give it a reason to be magical."

The rest of the lecture continued with that same theme: know the truth and will it into existence. Michael listened to most of the speech, though he occasionally faded out as his mind took him elsewhere. He could not wait to start his job at the library. It was only a few days away, but he had already spent so much time there that he could probably pick out any book with his eyes closed.

Machine Man
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