Chapter 3

Magic Theory in the Black Desert

Marta knows there is only one way to survive the desert by day, and that means finding cover during the night. She used to enjoy running around the village, some springs ago, though her memories are not clear. Clearly, she might had done it with her mother. There where all those gaps in her mind neither she nor her father where able to recollect. So, they assumed the worst.

What kind of woman would work out a relationship with dad? Someone who shared his curiosity for science and magic, for sure. Also, she would’ve been a brunette because that was just her father’s type, as he embarrassingly admitted when she questioned him about it. They even found a picture of them both (father-daughter), with an empty space in the shot. Someone would have been there, clearly. Faced with this, one quickly wonders some weird questions.

We are to assume that the reason father and daughter don’t have any memory of the mother means that she disappeared in unexpected circumstances, affected by The Ether. This more than plausible theory rises one big objection. If there really was a mother who got erased by ether in such a way that she ceased to exist… How was it possible for Marta to exist? How could the picture be taken? Can someone be born of someone who has never existed? For all that matters, she just appeared in the world, spontaneously. Who breastfed her as a child? Where was she born?

So, before we know it, we face the Beekeeper’s Paradox, so complex it is best to save it for later.

Although no one follows her, as it would be nearly suicide, Marta sprints as much as her breath can afford. She feels as if her legs carry metal bars instead of bones, each time growing heavier. Two hours or so must have passed. She barely slept these last weeks. Getting caught has released her from half her worries. The bigger one remaining, aside of immediate survival, is to be detected by the floating Indirian Station, when the day comes.

She slides down a dune like if it was a toboggan. The cold air cuts like a knive… She faces down against the sand hoping to regain strength. It is dry yet so cold.

‘Come on…’, she mutters to herself. ‘I was happy. Why those things had to happen right now, right here? Couldn’t they wait for some centuries to happen?’

Before she can see it, something flat covers her face. She lets go a scream in panic and takes it of easily, jumping back. There is no one here. The flat object lies in the ground. She takes it just to realize with a laugh that its just a piece of paper thrown at her by the wind… But wait, where did this came from? She takes a glimpse of it thanks to the dim moonlight. It seems new.

She should have a lighter with her… Not to waste it for silly stuff, but this may well be worth the trouble, and the desert looks to dead for her to afraid being exposed for a moment.

Not a trace of her lighter. Seems like it has been forgotten.

You don’t have a lot of choices when things go like this, but being a wizard’s daughter, you’ll always have one last card trick in your pocket. It can be dangerous, as she barely knows any kind of magic theory. ‘Too young for such abstract thinking’, her father used to say. He saw no point in teaching magic to someone below the twenties.

Magic comes down to an entanglement between mind and matter. If a person has a heightened sensibility when it comes to perceive possible realities, it is easier to observe one and convince it to choose a possible path. So, if she needs light, the easier way would be to make something burn.

‘Not a lot of things to burn around here besides sand…’, she thinks. ‘First, the sand should be flammable. Then, a spark should appear to light it. Doesn’t sound too complex, even for me.’

Deep down, she is sweating, as she knows she has never come as close to doing something like this. The closest would be the day she cooled down a glass of lemonade, and the effort was enough for her to feel seek for a day.

A wizard who ignores basic magic theory is like a fireman with a hose made of bamboo. It can work, but there are some logic implications one should be aware of.

She started to picture the feeling of sand intertwined with images of gasoline and coal. Mixing the smells in her head, soaking it with her imagination, as if it where the most normal thing in the world to store sand in aluminum barrels. And wouldn’t it be nice if a spark of sunlight came from the moon and fell to her feet?

The more she focused on this idea, the more it came to be something feasible. Her father would be rolling in his grave, as this was the equivalent to put out a fire with soccer balls. It may work, but you will find some inconveniences arise due to the workings of a logic you underestimated.

Just imagine, this reality so close to ours, where the sand turned out to store the sun energy… Those tiny capsules, so fragile, wouldn’t it be difficult for them to break someday… In fact, I just see one right here, pressed between my fingers, what a big sparkle, so pretty, like fireworks… It would be a shame if it didn’t reach the sand on the ground…

Now, what's this? Fire everywhere-