Dream Magic: Awakenings (16 page)

The bear-demon kept growing fast, and with a final roar, exploded. Chunks of the demon's spirit-energy flew everywhere.

...Or not.

Eric noticed he was holding back his breath, and exhaled. Relaxing his tense muscles, he allowed himself a smile.

What he didn't notice was a big chunk of the bear-demon's energy falling down from above and hitting him squarely in the head.

The moment of surprise was followed by a feeling not unlike being hit by a fireball. It was unpleasant, but Eric was somewhat used to it by now. The strangest part came a few seconds later: the fiery energy, instead of blasting away against his flesh, went through him.

It was like the flames at the attunement, but... different. Some of the energy was from his fireball, returning to him, but most of it was the bear-demon's own. It brought fleeting glimpses of understanding - of sadness, of being out of place, of being imprisoned and finally free. These glimpses perished fast, leaving behind only anger and power. Lots of anger and lots of power. To Eric, it was like a hunger he never experienced before.

Eric looked at his hands. He had a crimson tan. His experience of the power was a kind of shortening between will and desire:
Whatever I want, I can. Directly. Now.

His anger directed towards the goblin shaman, who was stumbling backwards and making the gestures of a spell with his hands.
I'll just crush him.

Silky-silvery energy threaded out of the goblin shaman's hands, and formed into three large wolves. There was elegance and speed to their movements, much in contrast with the shaman's own.
Ahh, there's at least something you're good at!

"Leave these to me!" Eric roared, and ran ahead to make sure the wolves target him.

The spirit-wolves danced around him, circling, barking and biting the air in front of them with such speed that they reminded Eric of depictions of three-headed hellhounds.

Despite their obvious violent nature and menacing growls, these spirit-creatures were unlike the demonic bear and the zombie crows. Their shapes were strong and natural to them. The non-angry side of Eric could appreciate that, and even let off some of the disdain he felt towards the shaman.

The bigger, angrier side of Eric saw just one more obstacle to crush. He let his anger and fire concentrate in his right fist, until the top layer of his skin peeled off, and his fist looked like the inside of a nasty fireball. The wolves were fast, but not as fast as Eric: he clobbered them one by one. The wolves' silky energy burned away like cobweb.

Again, his attention turned towards the shaman, who was exhausted and cowering. Eric walked dauntingly towards him, but he was stopped by a wet hand grabbing his arm.

"Stay calm." Lucy pressed a bubble of milky substance onto Eric's burning fist.

The liquid acquiesced his anger, and Eric noticed after how much it soothed the burnt and partly bleeding skin on his arm.

After a few breaths, he was his old self again. "Thanks! I needed that."

"Sure. Who gets to finish off the shaman? We have a little time before he manages to flee."

They looked at each other. Lucy and Rose were eager too - after all, they did the bulk of the work.

"Rock-paper-scissors?" Rose asked.

* * *

Master Joe was walking slowly across the field.

Behind him, the army from the Playground was venting jubilant cries; waiting for either a victory celebration or a final push to drive out the intruders.

Ahead of him stood the goblin war council - the strongest warriors and the most experienced shamans. They faced a difficult choice: surrender and go back through the portal, or play whatever trump cards they had left.

"Popcorn?"

Eric took the large, cinema-style cup from Lucy. "Thanks! Where did you get these?"

"I don't reveal my sources."

While munching the popcorn, the three of them watched Master Joe's progress from atop of the hill. The view was clear and the air more vibrant than usual.

"Do you think there'll be a fight?"

"Nah, I don't think Master Joe will let it."

Master Joe stopped within shouting distance of the war council. The dozen or so bigshots all faced in his direction; so did their aides and apprentices standing behind them, as well as the guards protecting the flank. Except for the motionless golems in the vicinity of the portal, all eyes were on him.

Master Joe paused for dramatic effect and cleared his throat. Despite sitting on a faraway hill and chomping down food, Eric could hear the sound as if the sky had built-in loudspeakers.

The sound startled one of the aides, who made a fireball and aimed it at Master Joe. It missed, but not by much.

Master Joe shifted his gaze to the spot of scorched grass where the fireball hit... and then at the shaman whose aide cast the spell.

The councilmembers stood transfixed for a few seconds, but then they too stared intently at that particular head shaman, who lifted his staff and whacked the aide so hard he fell to his knees.

Master Joe walked two steps closer and cleared his throat again.

"I am known as 'Joe' and this realm is my responsibility," his voice boomed. "Who speaks for the illustrious war council?"

One of the goblins stepped forward. He was less hunched and wore fewer trinkets on his body than the other shamans.

"I am Gorak, spokesman and current leader of the alliance of twelve tribes." Gorak spoke with the throaty, croaking sounds of his language, but Eric understood perfectly, even if the nuances of some of the words were different.

"To what do we owe the honor and displeasure of your attack?"

"Honor?" He spat. "There's no honor in what you humans do. You destroy and defile! Your violent and arrogant apathy corrupts everything around you. You turn into excrement whatever you touch! So shortsighted..." His nostrils flared as he spoke. "If you at least had the good measure to keep your shit to yourselves... but no, you have to poison everything! You don't even fight your nightmares; you cultivate them! The sewage of your dreams invades our realms and you ask why we fight?!"

Gorak lowered his arms. Dark-green patches appeared on the side of his face and the outburst left him short of breath.

"The bravery and veracity of goblin warriors is unquestionable, as is the intelligence of the mighty shaman who succeeded in opening this portal. Yet, do you hold the wisdom to distinguish between friend and foe? We are not your enemies. This is a realm where human children learn the self-discipline to battle nightmares. How would you react if someone attacked
your
young ones?"

"We can't let our tribes and realms be overrun by human hubris!" He exploded, and it took him several seconds to calm down enough to continue. He clawed on his staff with one finger. "...why should we trust you?"

"Do you see here any of the nightmares that encroach on your realms? Haven't our children proven to you their courage in battle? Our causes align. Reach out to tribes beyond the twelve; we have good relations with many of them. I am known among them as 'crazy old human'; listen to their words if you don't trust mine."

It's a name, not just a description. Interesting.
It sounded something like
xernog
, and Eric was pretty sure the term was a slur for 'human', but not without a degree of respect.

The goblin was taken aback and silent. "I have heard of Sern Bog. I thought he lived only in our legends."

There was a murmur after Gorak stepped back to discuss with the other elders. They didn't deliberate long.

"If you are who you say you are - and based on the performance of your troops, we are inclined to believe you - you and your envoys will be welcomed as guests in our homes. We expect your visit to be soon. Until the time we had the chance to hear your advice, we shall suspend the activities of the war council. We leave now."

Master Joe nodded.

Eric watched as the goblins retreated. The handlers led the golems through the portal first, who were followed by the war council, and the warriors standing guard marched through last.

"That's it? Wasn't much of a spectacle. We still have leftover popcorn," Eric said.
I guess I hoped for a bit more action... but we had enough action for today.

"I'm almost sad to see them leave," Rose said.

The obvious limitation of mathematics is the unquestioned axiom, but there is a hidden one as well: dogma. To define an axiom, we have to define what it means to define. If we don't, we fall into a continuous collapse of meta-mathematics, and to prevent that, we define 'to define' against our own consciousness that thinks about mathematical concepts. Thus, symmetry is broken and an axiom is established against the backdrop that is dogma.

We have to see mathematics for what it is: a human language doing its best to tame magic with form alone.

- Where Magic and Science Meet,
Dreamer's Handbook

The traditional method of linear definition and axiom enumeration lends itself well to doing calculations. Alternatively, we can create an axiom by plugging the problem parts into an equation (e.g. Euler's Identity) and proceeding with circular definitions from that point on. Symmetry-breaking using functional inequalities offers multiple handles for relation and theory management, and lends itself better to under- and overstanding the local axiom/dogma dynamic.

[Editor's comment: Interestingly, proctors of non-mathematical sciences use analogues of the latter approach, but rarely without a degree of stubborn ignorance; often claiming that the method they use is the one and true 'real' scientific method.]

- Where Magic and Science Meet,
Dreamer's Handbook

Kyle and Lyle were dragging a large sack.

"No! We don't need... help..." Kyle said, panting.

With the sun about to set, and after a long afternoon combing the field for litter left by goblins, Eric was glad the day was nearing its end. The goblins weren't an orderly bunch; rubbish was everywhere, smelling bad and sticky with sweat and dirt.
And who knows what other bodily excrements. Yuck.

"Did you clear the entire tree line?" Mr. Smith asked.

"I think we... got everything," Kyle said.

The sack fell to the ground with a thud.

"Did you destroy all the wards?"

"We did. They pissed all over the trees," Lyle pinched his nose in disgust.

"Good job."

Kyle and Lyle sat down next to Mr. Smith. They were breathing heavily.

"Wards are like booby-traps, right? Isn't that dangerous?" Rose asked.

"There are many types of wards," Lucy said.

Mr. Smith raised an eyebrow. "You think I would use Kyle and Lyle as mine clearers? Those were just harmless alarm wards."

"What do you mean?"

"Some warlords send out children as human mine detectors; to step on mines so their own troops could safely pass."

Eric contemplated the implications. "Kids our age get sent to their deaths like that?"

"No, not your age. You would be more valuable as a soldier since you can hold a firearm. Younger children."

"But that's horrible! Goblins really do these kinds of things?" Rose asked.

"No. Humans do, back in the real world."

A feeling of wrongness pressed against Eric's mind and swirled in his stomach.
It makes no sense.
Adults sometimes called his generation spoiled and privileged -
I'm not spoiled, but it seems I might be privileged
.

Eric decided to push the feeling away.
It's too big for me. I'm a kid; I'll deal with it when I'm an adult.

Kyle and Lyle were catching their breaths and paid no heed to the discussion.

"Tell him about the robot!" Lyle nudged his brother.

"Oh yea, we found a broken robot! It was too heavy for us to bring back with the rest of the garbage. Should we go back for it?"

"Are you strong enough to carry it?"

Lyle raised his arms to show off his muscles.

Kyle nodded. "Come," he said to Lyle and the two of them ran off.

"The problems of the world are heavy... You can't tackle it all at once." Mr. Smith drew the sack closer. He picked up a stick and poked around in it.

"If your bodies are exhausted but your minds are still fresh, I can teach you some basics of symbol-weaving. It could prove useful in the long run."

"Yes!" Lucy said.

Lucy...
Eric sighed.
I hope it's not all talk.

Mr. Smith examined several items from the sack: a wooden rod, an armor piece, a crude bracelet.

"Symbols are anchor points. We all operate with symbols, internally as well as externally. The benefit of using a symbol is that it gives awareness a somewhat fixed point to shift, focus on, and run circles around. It is a reflection through which understanding can be made clear."

He went through more items; a patched breastplate, the head of an axe, a broken sword.

They all had markings, reminding Eric of the many carvings found on classroom desks.
Goblins get bored too.

"I hoped there would be something useful here, but... nothing."

Once Mr. Smith put everything back, the sack floated up into the air and turned into flames. The flames burned searing white, and the resulting ashes promptly phased out of existence. "The portal strained the realm enough, no need to compound the stress with these reality-remnants. The goblins brought over some of their flora too, but we'll leave that Maeve and her assistant."

Mr. Smith threw away the stick. "I'll explain more of the theory, then. Pay attention."

"Understanding is the inward motion of a net; rationalizing the world and slicing it with Ockham's razor. The constriction and expansion of relations, the normalization, the simplification, the grasping of essence and the pruning of the irrelevant to bring back a useful simulation - this is 'understanding'."

Eric chuckled. "I don't understand understanding."

"You jest, but the mind is wondrous... Anyway," Mr. Smith gesticulated rigidly with his arms as he talked.