Liverpool Institute of Magic

  December 2004

  A puff of smoke filled the air as Professor Edison Smith moved on to his third cigarette in ten minutes. It wasn’t good to hold onto vices, so he’d been told multiple times, but truly he found that nothing beat having a smoke in one hand, a glass of spirits in the other, and – since he was feeling a bit fancy tonight – a record of baroque music playing gently in the background.

  If he never had to do anything ever again, this is what he’d spend his time doing, he imagined. Which made it all the more frustrating to him that his otherwise pleasant time was being interrupted by a rather persistent call from the campus provost.

  “How many times am I going to have to tell those hacks?”, he growled into the speaker on his desk. “I’m not doing an interview with the media. End of story. Tell them to get lost already.”

  “Okay then, mister high and mighty,” a tinny, aggravated voice snapped back from the receiver. “Maybe at least consider keeping your direct superiors filled in on what your little basket of eggheads has been working on then, huh? I’ve got three letter agencies from every corner of the globe crawling up my ass looking for crumbs here. Only thing keeping them from busting the door in on your office themselves is my good word and your reputation, you understand?”

  “Oh, I hear you. I also think you put way too much stock in their abilities to actually do anything about anything. So until they can learn to shut up and let my team work, they’re unfortunately going to have to wait.”

  “Motherfu- You are on thin ice here, pal, you know that!?”

  He really didn’t get along well with the provost. Sure, the big shot New Yorker with a business degree and a family dynasty behind him worked wonders when it came to keeping money flowing where it needed to be. Matter of fact, he was downright irreplaceable for his uncanny ability to say just the right words to keep the investors shoveling fistfuls of bills into the hungry furnace that was bleeding-edge research.

  But when push came to shove, he was also the type to throw everyone else under the bus before it came his turn to bite the bullet. And as the head researcher AKA the primary scapegoat, that meant the two of them frequently butted heads over the how of things.

  “You told me you had something promising for the efforts to crack the exclusion zone. That you just needed a bit more time to scale it up. Well, it’s been months now, Ed.”

  “Progress takes time. And don’t call me that.”

  “I’ll call you whatever I damn well feel necessary to get you to justify your budget to the world. Because as of right now, we’re sinking tens of millions into your little clique with nothing to show for it. You want to keep your unlimited credit line? Then you’d better start coughing something up, because to keep it you need to please the donors for once in your goddamn life! Come on, work with me here. Give me something that’ll make me happy.”

  “Please,” Edison snorted derisively. “Only reason I rely on you to get what I need was because I got tired of doing everything myself around here.”

  An exasperated sigh echoed from the other end of the line. “One. Month.” The provost enunciated each syllable, like he was trying to explain something to a toddler without coming off as angry. He just barely managed it, at the cost of sounding a lot more condescending.

  “That’s all you get to make whatever this is happen. Otherwise, the plug gets pulled and you spend the last remaining days of your career drinking yourself to death and bullying snot-nosed little brats who bought the lie you helped sell.”

  Ah, yes. The ever-infamous unofficial slogan for hopeful youths everywhere. ‘Once I graduate, I’ll be set for sure!’ The nerve of this guy…

  “Oh, a threat!”, the professor retorted, raising his voice. “Now you’re showing that you have some balls, for once! Thought they’d shriveled up years ago, honestly.”

  “Not a threat, asswipe, that’s a promise. One month.”

  The phone clicked, and a singular tone indicated that the caller had hung up on him.

  Edison grumbled a well-worn string of curses at his boss, massaging his temple with his index and middle finger as he topped off his glass with the good stuff.

  It was times like these that made him miss the 80s. Things had been so much simpler back then for him. Back when instead of hundreds of students demanding his attention, he’d just had four, only a bit younger than he’d been. Damned good students they’d been, too.

  Waving a hand, a dull white glow emanated from the bottom-most drawer of his desk and opened up on its own accord. From within rose a weathered picture frame from that time, back before the idea of mages and Domains and everything they’d built together became common knowledge. Oh, the adventures they’d all gotten up to then, just him, his kid brother and his four students.

  Randall. God only knew how he was holding up now. It’d been close to a decade since he’d last seen him, but that pub of his was situated snugly inside the exclusion zone. It frustrated him to no end, being both one of the most individually powerful people on the planet, while at the same time being just as powerless to help as everyone else.

  I am helping, he reminded himself. Even if waving my hands and casting some proper spellcraft ended up being a bust, I’m not stopping there. The alternatives just take longer, is all.

  A heavy swig from the glass turned into downing the entire thing in one go. Fuck. He supposedly had a niece in there somewhere, too. Bright little spark, who Embla had gushed over endlessly to him over the phone before the cancer had taken her far too soon. Apparently, she’d been on this years roster before… well…

  “Oh, to hell with this.”

  He set the glass down with a heavy thud, and rose from the plush leather confines of his armchair. The picture went back in the drawer, and with a snap of his fingers, the record player’s turntable came to a gentle halt.

  “If they don’t have something ready to go by now,” he declared, lighting a match with a flick of his thumb to clear the lingering smell of booze in the room. “I’ll damn well make sure they’ve got something by tonight.”

  < -|- -|- >

  “The city of London. Once the beloved capital of Great Britain, now scarred by an indescribable blanket of mist covering the innermost districts. Today marks the better half of a year living with this new, anomalous exclusion zone, leaving scientists and mages alike baffled at its existence to this very day. Her Majesty, the Queen, in light of this continued blight on her home, has issued a statement from her private residence in Aberdeenshire, a home away from home that fortunately spared her from being trapped away from her people in their time of crisis.”

  “This is an ongoing effort undertaken the world over. It is true that nobody knows what this might mean for the future, but here, in the present, we act. Our own Liverpool Institute is hard at work unraveling the secrets of this so-called ‘mist of chaotic mana’, as well as sharing detailed findings and samples with our good friends working around the clock in Silicon Valley, Moscow, Beijing, and many other nations as well. While they work for our benefit, it is up to us to ensure the security of those trapped within as best we can. As such, I have called to order a second mobilization of the RAF and our humanitarian suppliers, with aims to continue our ongoing high-altitude supply drops…”

  < -|- -|- >

  “Alright! Everything looks ready to go on my side! Receiver looking good, Konstantin?”

  “Is glittering like stars in the night sky over St. Petersburg,” the most recent addition to Lucy’s cell of researchers confirmed. He gave a thumbs-up to Ffion, who was putting the final touches on the latest edition in a long line of prototypes. “But nowhere near as stunning as you, krasotka.”

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  Ffion blushed a little, the tips of her pointed ears going pink as a warm gentle glow of light shimmered from a point just behind her head.

  “Oh, you charmer!”

  “Will you two save the romance novel lines for a candlelit dinner or something? We’re on the clock here!”

  “Ah! Sorry Luce!”

  Lucy sighed as her roommate turned chief engineer hurriedly exited the test chamber. These will-she-won’t-she games that Konstantin had started with her were getting ridiculous. She got it, really, she did. Handsome son of a former Soviet intelligence officer was a one-sentence pitch that anyone would fall for, if they found themselves in the same situation.

  But in the middle of the test that was liable to make or break their career? Come on. Time and a place, people.

  She made sure to give a pointed look towards the other party responsible, too. He grinned cheekily back, because of course he did.

  Konstantin was a big help on the development side of things, no doubt about it. They’d been hard pressed to find a second Day Domain mage willing to work with them on this, but he’d stepped up to the plate and enabled them to really scale up their prototypes. Two enchanters were better than one after all, and his patient and methodical approach to offering tutelage was visibly improving Ffion’s talents day after day. As much as she dragged them for their increasingly frequent pillow talk, they were good for each other.

  She just hoped that their antics didn’t bring down what they’d worked so hard to build together, is all.

  “Alright, ladykiller, you’ve had your fun now. Once Ffion makes it back up here, make sure that you keep the audio recording clean, maybe? I’d like some degree of professionalism in our next report, after all.”

  “Ah, yes yes. Is no problem. She is, how you say, light of my life, no?”

  At that moment, the subject of their little discussion entered the control room with her signature cheer and optimism.

  “Woohoo! Who’s ready to make some magic happen!”

  Both Lucy and Konstantin had to shield their eyes for a second, before the tall elf picked up on what was happening and dialed it back. “Ah! Sorry!”, she apologized again. “I just got excited about-”

  “Yes, yes,” Lucy interrupted. “It’s the biggest, best perception stabilizer enchantment ever created to date. Grab a seat, I’ve already started cycling the sample into the test chamber to see if we can get a result this time.”

  Giddily, Ffion did just that, taking a seat next to her new boyfriend and snuggling up close. She raised an eyebrow, but otherwise let it slide as she calibrated the receiver to her liking.

  The interior of the test chamber was a cramped, simple affair closer to a tunnel or a shooting range than an actual room. Inside was only a few objects; the enchanted apparatus they’d refined over the months, a simple photo of Buckingham Palace on the far side wall, and tanks upon tanks of siphoned mist delivered straight from the exclusion zone.

  Thank the Lord Ffion’s parents had been well-connected enough to get that initial jarful they’d used to pitch their initial prototype. Who said having friends in high places was a bad thing, anyways?

  This test was much the same idea as that first attempt, just scaled up in every conceivable way. The goal was to make a controlled environment where the density inside the test chamber matched that found at the exclusion zone. Being able to see what was happening inside was so tantalizingly close, Lucy could practically taste it. They’d banked everything on this new, more powerful version packing the punch they needed to finally break past the 90% density barrier.

  “Alright…”, she mumbled, focusing the lens of the camera inside the enchanted brass sleeve on the picture at the end. “Got a bead on it now… Density reading 22% and climbing. Engaging the first layer of inscriptions… now.”

  A faint, low hum reverberated from outside the viewing window as the ley lines flared to life. Bright pulses of yellow light flowed and circulated lazily in mesmerizing patterns across the entire tube, and the photograph that had started to become obscured once again snapped into sharp focus.

  “Baseline established,” she repeated into the handheld recorder she was clutching nervously. “Proceeding to open the remaining tanks.”

  Ffion sat on the edge of her seat, eyes glued to the monitor linked to the camera’s visual feed. Clouds of dense, grey-green mist began seeping into the chamber from various openings in the walls, rapidly obscuring the view from the control room’s glass window.

  Only the camera was picking up anything. And that was quickly disappearing, too. As was expected from previous testing.

  “Density at 67% and rising. Increasing mana draw from 10 to 50% capacity.”

  The hum churned louder, and the picture came into focus again for a brief moment. But, just as quickly as it appeared, the increasingly heavy chaotic mana blotted it out.

  “Density holding at 90%. Engaging second layer inscriptions… now.”

  A second tone entered the chorus. The power draw spiked a little, but that was to be expected. And, as they’d managed to establish previously, the second layer wasn’t enough to recover the image.

  Not until they fed it more juice, that was.

  “Mana draw rising to 60%… 70… 75…”

  There. In the center of the screen. A small point, barely bigger than a few pixels, of the original image was detected. It had been her idea to hook up a couple CPUs to the receiver to monitor for dramatic changes in the video feed. She might still be working on breaking through to the initial level of magic talent herself, but syntax, programming and embedded system design were her specialty. And they were paying off here.

  “Pinhole established at 90 percent density, 75% power draw!” She couldn’t help but keep the excitement out of her voice. “Engaging third layer inscriptions… now.”

  Her hands were starting to sweat, causing her grip on the recorder to nearly slip. This was it. The moment their recent innovation either broke through or failed miserably. The third humming note entered, striking a chord that made reminded her of the Gregorian chanting that Konstantin sometimes mimicked for fun.

  She wanted to bite her nails as the picture came back into frame. It was happening.

  “90 percent density, power draw just under maximum safe threshold at 93%. E-engaging final tanks.”

  Here it was. The bottleneck.

  It was this moment that had caused so many prior experiments to fail. The last 10 percent accounted for nearly half of the interference in real-life conditions, and already that infuriating detail had dashed more attempts than they could count against the rocks. And now, they were down to their last attempt.

  “Density at maximum capacity. Pinhole obscured once again, increasing power to.. 95%.”

  The hum thump-thump-thumped in their ears. The image had yet to clear up any.

  “96… 97… 98… 99…”

  Nothing yet. They still couldn’t get it, even with the third enchantment layer?

  “Power at maximum capacity. Pinhole has yet to-”

  “Wait!” Ffion exclaimed. Her eyes were glowing pale yellow, a side effect of her running perception magic from her Domain on herself. “It’s just about there!”

  Lucy turned back to take a closer look at the readings. Sure enough, the mana pattern had stabilized in a cone nearly through to the photo, only stopping just short of the canvas.

  …Well… here goes nothing.

  “We have confirmation that a potential pinhole could be made at unsafe levels. Backing up current findings and proceeding to… 105%…”

  The noise was grating, now. It felt like they were in the same room as it, despite the perfect vacuum conditions of the test chamber. The hum turned to a slight whine as they all watched the screen with baited breath.

  A chime sounded, and they cheered.

  “Pinhole established!”, Lucy exclaimed. “Visual is still unclear, but we have a confirmed pinhole at-”

  They were interrupted by the sound of rapid unscheduled disassembly and the lights going out. The roar in the background came to an abrupt stop, and as the emergency lights in the building came on the reality of the situation began to sink in.

  Her phone rang, and she answered. Lucy’s face went pale as she listened, not saying a word until the conversation was finished.

  “The professor’s on his way over,” she said numbly, pale as a sheet.

  < -|- -|- >

  “The whole grid. You blew the whole grid of ley lines powering the entire city, and now the provost is hounding me over your little accident. And for what? A spyglass that can’t even give a clear image?!”

  “We had a breakthrough, though!”, Lucy protested. “For the first time, we managed to punch a hole clean through the laboratory conditions! If you only give us another chance-”

  “It’s not up to me if you get another chance or not!”, the professor bellowed. “The damage is already done, and now heads have got to roll to keep the donors happy. I’ve got at least a dozen other projects to manage that haven’t ended in disaster, so that means that the head on the chopping block is yours.”

  Ffion interrupted, putting her foot down in anger. “T-that’s not fair! We worked hard on this, and we actually have results now!”

  “I’m not saying it's fair! I’m telling you how it’s going to go down, because at the end of the day I’m only so important around here!”

  “Only so important?! You’re the Edison Smith!”

  “Really?,” he said sarcastically. “Ask any one of the suits who actually run things and they’ll tell you I’m a washed up has-been cleaning them out for every last drop of salary. And, at this point, they're not wrong! Now imagine where that puts you on the totem pole.”

  “But-”

  “This is how things go around here. End of story. Pack your things and get out.”

  None of them moved. They were too stunned.

  “We… we had results…” Lucy started sobbing, tearing up as it all fell down around her. Ffion tried to console her as best she could, but to no avail. Konstantin seemed lost in thought at the development.

  “...Professor,” he eventually spoke in a low voice. “Perhaps we can help each other, in this case, no?”

  Edison snorted. “Help each other? What, you want to bargain, now? Don’t make me laugh. I’m one of three Law Domain mages in the world, and I can’t even help myself.”

  “No, no, I think we can reach something… there’s not a clean translation, but with a little smekalka, we might have solution to lack of useful technology.”

  “W-what?” Lucy paused her weeping fit as she heard his words, unsure of where he was taking this.

  “Our project works by clearing a channel of atmosphere of chaotic particles to improve perception, yes? More than light moves through atmosphere, you know. Many, smaller things. Invisible things.”

  Ffion was visibly confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Yeah, I’m just as confused as you are,” Edison seconded.

  “My father, after USSR fell-” he spat on the ground as he spoke the name of his country’s old regime. “Brought back with him highly advanced Soviet sensor suite. It’s long since been passed on to other agencies, but… he spent much time before that making sure I know each way a man might be spied on.”

  “The first of which, is unsecured radio transmissions.”