Magic is useful. With magic you can do almost anything if you know how. The problem with magic is that in most times, places, galaxies, existences, and spectrums, the necessary infrastructure to support the use of magic as a means for accomplishing things isn’t present. Because of its near infinite usefulness, cultivating the infrastructure needed to use magic was the primary economic power in places where it existed.
Zenith was a very large planet, a very long ways away from Earth. It was aptly named as it was the apex of magic in any known civilization. Many things were possible on Zenith that were not possible anywhere else in the world. This wasn’t because the native population of Zenith was particularly adept or skilled, but because Zenith brimmed with magical energy in a way that no other place could or would or should or likely ever will again. Because of this massive fortune that the Zenithians were bestowed with, they benevolently ruled a significant portion of existence for eons and eons.
Until they didn’t.
Like most societies with an innate edge, they became dull and lackadaisical and complacent and they stopped innovating. Eventually that gave way to greed and corruption and then totalitarianism and finally outright war.
Zenith, as a society, collapsed, as all great societies eventually do.
Zenith, as a font of magical power, remained as strong as ever.
Unlike Zenith, Boyd Bridges was not magical. Boyd was in fact, not only not magical, he was in most ways unremarkable. He was pale skinned, about six feet tall with shaggy, sandy blonde hair. Like most folks from rural Oklahoma, Boyd had a very strong set of likes and dislikes. He enjoyed many things he associated with country living, which included the standard fare of trucks, guns, beer, girls, and other things you hear about in a Waylon Jennings song. His dislikes were voluminous, but mostly could be summed up as “Things that didn’t provide immediate access to a burst of dopamine”. Because of his chemical seeking nature, he struggled to find a steady hold in polite society. To borrow the parlance of his father, Boyd, was a “fuckup”. This word was exclusive to the Earthen English language and roughly translated to “typically fails at most tasks”. This wasn’t a fair assessment of Boyd as a person though. The skillset he was born with was extraordinary, even prized in some societies. Boyd was of average height and strength, had minimal ability to charm others, was never particularly adept at sports, and failed to learn any math or science after the age of 12. His physical prowess and mental capacities were both found to be wanting, but what he lacked in your typical heroic attributes, he had found ways to compensate and adjust.
Boyd had moxie.
Across the galaxy, most of the more refined societies had eliminated the idea of the “Self”. The same way that evolution prefers those groups that work together over those that work alone, self-preservation above all as an instinct eventually loses. Think about it - on a long enough timeline, the idea that humanity outlives ants is laughable. Ant colonies don’t have internal strife. There is just the colony. The group survives as a whole and is more prosperous because of it. Across the galaxy, those populations that were most successful had long since taken on an ant-like mindset. While not all societies were as single-minded as the ant, the idea that one person had more value than another, even to the person in question, had become faux paus.
Boyd did not suffer from this affliction.
Somewhere outside Haskell, Oklahoma, United States of America, Earth, Sol, Milky Way Galaxy, Boyd and his friend Walker were attempting to impress girls. Impressing girls was one of Boyd’s most important goals. Because he was neither particularly attractive, nor particularly intelligent, impressing girls usually required acts of extreme stupidity or copious amounts of alcohol. Boyd was always happy to provide and participate in either.
The night’s goal, as agreed upon earlier by both gentlemen, was for both men to successfully coerce their dates into sexual intercourse. Unbeknownst to both Boyd and Walker, the girls had arrived with the same idea, but both had started to question the decision after the gentlemen’s infantile attempts to woo them were found lacking. The girls were currently trying to figure out the most reliable way to end the evening without offending, but had long since given up on either of the gentlemen as romantic partners.
Currently, Walker thought he was holding an M-80 firecracker in one hand and a half empty bottle of rye whiskey in the other. He and Boyd had been lightning and throwing M-80s into the nearby pond in an attempt to impress their dates with their courage and bravery. While this act seems to contradict Boyd’s general sense of self-preservation, it should be noted that all men have weaknesses, and Boyd’s weakness was most definitely “girls.” While the explosions were considerable for the size of the firecracker, they paled in comparison to nitroglycerin based explosives, which was what Walker was actually holding. Boyd noticed this well before Walker did, and while he knew very little in life, he could clearly see the firework was not the same as the one he held in his hand. A quick flash of memory from his childhood accurately placed the implement as a high explosive that his father had once used to clear stumps from their property. Knowing the power and prestige of the item, Boyd did was anyone with a combination of moxie and self-preservation would do.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Boyd didn’t say, “No, stop!”
Boyd didn’t say, “Everyone, look out!”
Boyd didn’t throw himself in front of his date in a moment of spontaneous chivalry.
Instead he chucked the real M-80 he was holding at the pond at the absolute perfect angle, dove behind the old Ford pickup parked next to him with remarkable speed, and then covered his head in a way that prevented the blast from sending a piece of shrapnel directly into his ear. This was an exceptionally unlikely occurrence that had large ramifications across the universe.
Infinity Engines are an essential component to a successful magical enterprise, but they rely upon Order. While the Universe struggles towards Order, that old villain Entropy always remains. Boyd, an agent of Entropy in every way, benefitted massively from this unlikely success. Boyd’s action was inherently chaotic and thus utterly unpredictable by even the most exceptional magical Infinity Engines. If he had held the M-80, if he had thrown it most other directions, if he had decided to jump under the truck rather than behind it, if he hadn’t covered his head the exact way he did, none of the sequelae would’ve occurred. Boyd, typically a menagerie of poor decisions, impulsively completed a series of actions that beat odds of better than 4,628,844,245,764,908,534:1.
The ensuing explosion lead to the death of his three friends, the loss of his prized pickup truck, and Boyd’s remains never being found. His obituary was published in the local newspaper. His family held a closed casket funeral. He was mourned briefly and then forgotten on Earth.
Boyd wasn’t dead.
He wasn’t even on Earth.
Boyd was alive.
Boyd was kicking ass.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lord Grand Assembler Faydeer of the Filary was in the midst of the most important day of his life. Assembly, the process by which a suitable group would be selected for The Empress’s next Foray into Zenith, was amongst the important duties in Filaryon society. The underlying work required years of effort and the toils of hundreds if not thousands of Her Highness’s loyal subjects. Without a successful Foray, society would struggle for the interim decades until the next Assembly and subsequent Foray. Assembly was, simply put, a foundational effort for the success of the Filary as a whole.
It went terribly wrong.
To understand what exactly went wrong, you would need the equivalent of several Ph.D.s in fields that are not yet discovered on Earth. The simplest explanation would be that amongst the several million calculations necessary to bring the five most compatible warriors from across the Universe into the same locality at the same time required precision to nearly a million decimals. In other words, small perturbations across the Universe can affect the underlying results.
What occurred at this time can be attributed in part to a rounding error instituted by Boyd’s irrational and improbably successful attempt at preserving his own life.
A Foray was comprised of five Combatants. One of the Combatants was standing in the same room as Grand Assembler Faydeer. Lord Fleon, High Paladin of the Filary, was the leader of this year’s Foray. The other members would be simultaneously summoned from across the galaxy, set to arrive at the same time. They had been systematically picked without any level of bias. They represented the best of their cultures, those most likely to succeed. All five had been contacted and agreed to represent the Empress and the Filary. The outcome of today’s Assembly was a known commodity, planned years in advance.
They arrived just as expected, blinking into existence with the final push of a button from the Grand Assembler himself. Transposition leads to instantaneous transmission and thus the results of years of work happened in an instant. Everything went as planned with one notable exception - Zualt, Supreme Hydrophosist of the Namidian Domain had been replaced by an ape-like creature wearing denim jeans and a faded cloth shirt bearing the insignia of a musical group called Def Leppard on the front, and touring dates on the back.
The expected outcome, that of Zualt suddenly appearing in place, would’ve been a feather in the cap of any Foray. Zualt was a Sorcerer of immense power. The frog-like Namidians excelled at the arcane arts due to their oversized brains and unrestricted access to Aqueous magic. He had topped all other students at Namidian University, having completed research into novel forms of Aqueous arcane magic that dwarfed the current levels of the time. His scholarly endeavors would have netted him extremely respected positions anywhere in Namidia, but he had other plans. He had willing joined the Rana, Namidia’s elite soldier unit. The Namidians had been at war with the Serpen for several generations, and the Rana had gone from first line forces to last line of defense as the Serpen won battle after battle. Fatality rates were nearly 100% for all Rana soldiers, but Zualt was fearless. He had led his people across numerous battles against the war-like Serpen Collective, ultimately reclaiming the ancestral home of the Namidians, and liberating those that had been captured by the Serpen. His name was croaked across Namidia endlessly and forever, a hero to his people and the paragon of his kind. His inclusion in the group was considered a great boon for Fleon, and his liege, The Empress of the Filary.
But the expected outcome wasn’t meant to be.
Zualt didn’t show, and Boyd appeared in his stead.
Boyd wasn’t a Sorcerer.
Boyd was a fuckup.