Bright, clear stars shone above the pool, and the short grass on the knolls surrounding it danced silently in the gentle breeze. The mirror surface reflected the firmament, disturbed only by delicate ripples fanning out before fading back into stillness. As the night deepened, the slender crescent of the moon began its ascent, revealing in a silvery glow the shallowness of the water and the small round pebbles that strewed the bed.
The air cooled and a slight mist soon rose over the water. In the distance, the soft hooting of an owl echoed, and far away, on a grandfather clock in a village house, midnight struck. At that very moment, the pool began to swirl ever so slightly. The motion was subtle, almost imperceptible in the darkness, but gradually intensified, casting a mesmerizing pattern on the surface.
“I don’t get it,” Katja said, looking at her Casio, “time, by which I mean the exact hour on the clock, is just a convention, right? Something humans devised to coordinate themselves, somewhat arbitrarily. Why would magic respond to a specific time? How could it even know?”
The mist grew thicker over the water.
“It’s about the rhythm of life, the cycles of nature, the heartbeat of the cosmos as we perceive it,” said Ollie. “Our entire existence is structured around these moments: birthdays, anniversaries, seasons, days and nights; magic is responding to the accumulated human belief associated with midnight. That hour, in particular, has a certain… power, born from stories, folklore, and shared human experience.”
Katja frowned. “This only adds to my confusion. Like, how could magic respond to these concepts? Can it read our minds, the specific synaptic connections, the action potentials? How does that work, mechanically, what’s the causal relation between, ‘humans have this concept of midnight in their culture’ and ‘magic is triggered at this specific configuration of spacetime that most humans would associate with it?’”
Ollie paused. “We don’t know, it could be an inherent property, just as gravity is responding to mass without any conscious ‘awareness’ of it; think of it like dark energy in cosmology: we know it exists because we can observe its effects, but we don’t understand its true nature.”
Katja nodded thoughtfully. “All those physics analogies suggest that there might be fundamental laws to it, just as quantum mechanics provides for our physical reality at the atomic level; perhaps what we need is a sort of magical physics.”
Ollie laughed. “If I let you go on, you’ll reinvent arcana from first principles.”
“Is magic responding only to human consciousness?”
“Magic responds to all consciousness. The particularity of humans’ is that the content of their conscious experience is… more complex, structured, than that of other animals.” Ollie glanced at his own, mechanical, watch.
Katja stayed silent for a moment. “How does this interaction actually happen? Is there a medium or field, like electromagnetic waves for light, that carries these experiences? Wait!” Her eyes widened as if seized by a sudden realization. “Is magic even limited by the speed of light? I would assume so, because otherwise it would... break everything. I can accept that we’re standing on the edge of this pool, in the dead of night, watching it slowly morph into… something, I can even accept that this is caused by the interaction between the mind and some kind of weird consciousness reality field, but not that it’s all happening faster than c. So please don’t tell me that any of this violates the speed of light, locality, or causality…”
Ollie smiled. “The concept of a magical ‘field’ or medium is a good starting point: we’re calling it the ‘aether’ in arcana. Magical interactions are mediated through the aether and, while it seems to operate instantaneously, it doesn’t necessarily violate the speed of light, or the principles of causality, much like quantum entanglement, which at first glance seems to violate locality, but doesn’t.”
“Is.. Is magic fucking… quantum?” Katja asked, increasingly wide-eyed.
“Oh yeah, it’s definitely fucking quantum,” Ollie said with another smile.
It was Katja’s turn to laugh. “At least I get why everyone isn’t a wizard in this world if you have to be proficient in quantum theory!”
“You don’t need to be skilled in arcana to cast a spell, just to craft it: it’s a bit like using a piece of software versus writing its code, or building an atomic bomb… versus pushing the button. And arcana is closer to topology anyway.”
“Now that I think about it, it’s a bit cliché, isn’t it? Like, ‘it’s all powered by human belief’ and all that.”
“It’s powered by consciousness,” said Ollie, his eyes still locked on the slowly swirling pool. “Every conscious experience is affecting the aether, it’s not limited to beliefs, let alone human beliefs. It’s not… it’s not something straightforward like the archetypes of Jung’s Collective Unconsciousness shaping reality.”
He sighed. “The aether is a high dimensional field and subjective experiences are like… pinches on this field. More complex subjective experiences are more potent and can affect a larger area, affect them deeper. We can tie knots of these pinches to prevent them from dissipating, to gather their potential energy in a single point: that’s the process of crafting a spell; casting it is like untying the knot, releasing the energy creating a wave on the aether field with a specific shape.”
“And the ‘science’ of all that is… arcana?”
“Yeah. Most wizards don’t know arcana beyond the basics; to be good at casting spells requires a different skill set from that of crafting them: focus, willpower, some knowledge of spells and how they interact, yes, but very little theory of the aether. A bit like pure math versus applied engineering.”
“Hum,” Katja said, frowning. “Given that casting a spell releases the energy it contains, I’ve assumed that they’re sort of single-use, but if most wizards can’t create their spells, then…?”
“There’s a whole economy behind it; arcanists create and encode spells, which can then be purchased or traded. They’re often stored in physical media, like amulets, scrolls, or even everyday items, embedded with specific incantations or power. Once a spell is cast, its structure breaks down with use or time, rendering the medium inert.”
“This world is starting to make sense to me, I don’t know if I should worry, I’m still on the fence about whether I’m going to look at some weirdly shaped lamp one day and wake up in my dorm,” Katja said gloomily.
“You arrived barely a fortnight ago, I’ve been here for a decade and I’m still processing it.”
Katja glanced at her watch again before noticing something. “Why is my watch still working?”
“Anything we bring with us is still following the ‘old rules’. Of course, over time, the electronics inside will oxidize and it will stop working, and that if the battery doesn’t give up before,” said Ollie.
“All right, now I’m confused again. If you stack zinc and copper, do you get a charge?”
“Nope, as I’ve already told you before, electricity doesn’t work here; likewise for gunpowder, the aether is… blocking it.”
“Blocking it?”
Ollie shrugged.
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“But… why?”
“The main theories have to do with the aether keeping the balance between humanity’s power and the natural world. We have evidence that gunpowder did, in fact, operate here as it did in our world before the arrival of the first Travelers 500 years ago, and that it suddenly became nonfunctional when they manifested; it was used for some fireworks at religious ceremonies or something.”
“What about steam power?”
“Same, if you try it the metal will get so hot it will burst.”
“I wonder if we can exploit this property to break very hard stuff; but still, that’s wack, is this entire world stuck with pre-industrial tech?”
“Pretty much yeah, but they do have a degree of labor specialization, such as assembly-line factories, which didn’t exist in our pre-industrial world.”
“What about things like medicine or biology? Are those fields affected by the aether as well?”
“Oh yeah, a lot, the principles of biology are the same, as far as I can tell, but the aether influences all aspects: for example, healing magic can accelerate the natural healing process; there are also plants and animals here that have unique properties due to their interaction with the aether. You need spells to exploit these properties though.”
“That brings up so many questions about evolution and natural selection in a world influenced by magic,” Katja said, her mind racing with possibilities. “I mean, does magic play a role in genetic mutation or adaptation over generations?”
“It seems to,” Ollie replied. “There are species here that have developed magical abilities as a survival mechanism: there’s a type of robin that can cloak itself in invisibility, it’s not perfect, but it’s effective enough to confuse predators; hares that can teleport short distances, and so on.”
“I… I admit that I’m a bit overwhelmed by the implications of magical genes… are some bacteria and viruses also magical?”
“There are magical diseases, yes.”
“What about more abstract replicators like memes? Are there any magical ideas floating around?”
Ollie laughed. “Remember our discussion about the significance of midnight?”
“Oh. Oh right, of course.”
“It’s getting late, I don’t know why it’s taking so long,” Ollie said, frowning, glancing at his watch and the pool in turn.
Katja, for her part, had lots of questions on her mind and wasn’t paying much attention to the pool.
“Do they have photography?” She asked after a few minutes of silence, as she tried to gather her thoughts.
“Not working,” Ollie replied distractedly.
“What about Pasteurization? Vulcanized rubber? Fresnel lenses? Harmonic analysis for predicting the tides?”
Ollie closed his eyes for an instant, thinking. “I… don’t think they have rubber trees as they don’t have the tropical climate in this world. They have pasteurization and are using it, to some extent. They have Fresnel lenses in their lighthouses and I know that they can predict the tides, it’s in the port newspapers.”
“Bicycles are going to be annoying without rubber, a shame,” Katja said, a bit disappointed. “But we might be able to work out some synthetic rubber with petroleum. What about refrigeration? Reinforced Concrete?”
“Refrigeration can’t really work well enough without a compressor, I think? They don’t use reinforced concrete, I suspect it’s due to the cost of steel, yet again thanks to the physical limitations in the fabrication process without steam power or electricity, not because of technological limitations.”
“Damn,” Katja said, even more disappointed. “I guess I don’t have the easy alpha I was hoping for.”
“Remember that many Travelers from our world wake up in this one every decade, we’re not even the only Americans under 30.”
Katja grunted. “I guess I made the right choice to study magic with you.”
“Speaking of which, I think it’s finally happening,” Ollie said, rising to his feet.
The pool was now casting a soft glow and swirled at an impressive speed. Katja slowly rose in turn, gazing at the pool with fascination as its water began to transform before her eyes into a milky white and radiant liquid. The light it emitted was soon so bright that looking at it was like staring directly at the sun, and she squinted as she tried to make out the surface. A low hum began to sound.
“That’s a Convergence,” said Ollie, “I guess you could think of it as… a localized magical eclipse. Don’t worry, you’re perfectly safe.”
Katja, squinting against the brightness, felt a tingle on her skin, as if the air itself was charged with static electricity.
“What happens during a Convergence?” she asked.
Ollie didn’t answer. The air grew warmer, and the humming sound deepened, resonating with a rhythm that Katja felt in her chest.
“Should we… do something? Like, make a wish or focus on a question?”
“Just watch,” Ollie said, his voice barely audible over the humming.
As the hum crescendoed, the swirling pool transformed into a maelstrom of radiant energy, its surface rippling with waves of light. Katja, mesmerized by the spectacle, felt a sense of awe mixed with a hint of trepidation. The air around them vibrated with an unseen force, and the ground beneath their feet seemed to pulsate in harmony with the pool’s rhythm.
Suddenly, the light intensified, reaching a blinding brilliance. Katja shielded her eyes with her hand, squinting to see through the luminous veil. The pool’s center erupted in a column of light, shooting upwards into the night sky, piercing the darkness and illuminating the surrounding landscape.
Then, the patterns in the pool started to stabilize, forming a clear, intricate mandala-like design.
“In moments like this,” said Ollie, “the boundaries between the physical and magical realms thin out. It’s almost over now.”
As the column of light began to dissipate, the intricate mandala on the surface of the pool slowly faded, leaving behind a calm, clear water once more. The air cooled again, and the mist that had enveloped them began to thin out. The stars overhead seemed to shine even brighter as if refreshed by the magical display.
Katja stood silently, her eyes wide with wonder. “That was… incredible,” she finally said, her voice filled with awe. “It was like witnessing the birth of a star or something equally cosmic. I hope we weren’t blasted with gamma rays, though.”
Ollie remained silent, looking pensively at the pool.
Katja, still processing the event, looked back at Ollie. “So, what now? Does something… happen after a Convergence? Are we supposed to find something in the pool or…?”
Ollie chuckled softly. “Do you think you’ll find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?”
Katja rolled her eyes but smiled. “All right, I get it.”
The two stood there for a while longer, taking in the quietness that followed the Convergence. The air still held a faint charge, like a lingering memory.
Katja eventually turned to Ollie. “So, these Convergences, are they predictable, like, can we chart their occurrences?”
Ollie nodded thoughtfully. “Somewhat, as you would have guessed; they tend to occur at places of strong magical significance, and certain celestial alignments like tonight’s increase their likelihood considerably. But each Convergence is unique in its manifestation.”
They began to walk back from the pool.
“So, if Convergences are somewhat predictable, do people gather at these sites expecting them? Like, is it a cultural thing, or more of a scientific observation?”
Ollie glanced at her. “It’s a bit of both; for some, it’s a deeply spiritual experience, they believe that witnessing a Convergence brings them closer to the essence of magic; for others, especially arcanists, it’s a chance to study the phenomenon, to understand how the aether behaves during these events. There’s a whole field of arcana dedicated to it; the graduation ceremony of the Magisterium, the arcanist university, takes place every year at the Summer Solstice Convergence in Autermont, the valley where it is located. The school was set up in this valley specifically because of the recurring Convergence at this date.”
As they walked, the night air felt crisp and fresh.
“So, these arcanists who study Convergences, do they have any theories on why they occur? Is there a pattern or logic to their appearance?” Katja asked.
Ollie nodded. “Some believe Convergences are a way for the aether to balance itself, similar to how tectonic plates release energy through earthquakes, dispersing accumulated energy back into the physical realm.”
“And what about the effects of a Convergence? Does it leave any residual magic or changes in the area or something?”
“Sometimes, it depends on the intensity and nature of the Convergence: in some cases, the area might become a hotspot for magical activity, attracting creatures or influencing the local flora; in other cases, it might just leave a lingering sense of ‘charged’ air, like we’re feeling now.”
They reached a small hill overlooking the village, the lights twinkling softly in the distance. Katja sat down on a boulder, gazing at the peaceful scene. “It makes me wonder about our place in all this, as Travelers.”
“That’s a question many of us grapple with,” Ollie said, sitting beside her. “Some Travelers try to go back, to find a way to return to Earth, for the rest of their lives, others embrace this world, making a new life here; either way, we have to walk the line between both, never fully belonging to either.”
Katja looked thoughtful. “What about you? Where do you stand?”
“I’ve been here a long time,” Ollie said quietly. “This world has become more of a home to me than our old one ever was. Even in my old life, in San Francisco, I felt like… an outsider, an observer.”
They sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. The cool night air was refreshing, and the sky above was a tapestry of stars.
Finally, Katja stood up. “We should head back, it’s been a long night.”