civilized woodwork, the Jew? Certainly not as races at all. The world is a world, not a charitable institution, and I take it they will have to go. The whole tenor and meaning of the world, as I see it, is that they have to go. So far as they fail to develop sane, vigorous, and distinctive abilities for the great world of the future, it is their portion to die out and disappear. The world has a greater purpose than happiness; our lives are to serve God’s purpose, and that purpose aims not at man as an end, but works through him to greater issues.
—H. G. Wells,
Anticipations of the Reaction of
Magical and Scientific Progress Upon
Human Life and Thought , 1901
UBF Minotaur
Somewhere over Nevada
IT WAS FRUSTRATING SOMETIMES. She seemed to have a stronger natural attachment to the Power than anybody else around, though she wasn’t nearly as strong as she’d somehow become on the Tokugawa, but she was mediocre at creating anything more than the most rudimentary of spells. Sure, she could Travel like it was nobody’s business, which was supposed to be one of the hardest types of magic to master, what with all the possible ways of crashing into things and dying, so why couldn’t she make this stupid communication spell work right? And now everybody was staring at her, wondering why the girl that had supposedly fought the Chairman couldn’t even get a stupid little spell to take.
Faye, Mr. Browning, and the new volunteers had left L.A. a few hours ago, catching the first blimp heading east. They were rushing back to help, though nobody really had any idea what helping meant in this case. It wasn’t like she could shoot or stab her way out of so many folks hating Actives. Moving made her feel like she was doing something though. Heck, on a blimp, even when they were sleeping they were moving. One nice thing about blimping was that the staterooms tended to have pretty comfy beds, which meant you could usually get a good night’s sleep on one, at least until your Grimnoir ring tried to burn your finger off.
It had been about five minutes since Faye’s ring had turned hot enough to wake her up. It wasn’t just her, either. All of the assorted Grimnoir aboard the Minotaur had received the same signal and it had been a strong one. Somebody really wanted to talk. They had gathered in the observation bubble because it was quiet and they could lock the door to keep out snooping crew members.
Since Faye had gotten here first, she’d volunteered to cast, and now she was regretting it. It was starting to frazzle her nerves, but she wouldn’t give the unfamiliar knights the satisfaction of seeing her fail. She redrew the design in the pile of salt and tried once again to concentrate on letting her own Power connect. Lance made it look so easy. Focus , he’d said, the Active provides the juice. You’re just a battery. The Power knows what to do based on what part of it you draw.
There were many different material components that could be used for spells. The Grimnoir had learned them through trial and error. The most common was good old fashioned salt or fine sand, because you could try again if you screwed it up. Even dirt would work if you were good enough. It was harder to do, but a spell could be scratched onto a glass surface, though she’d never managed to get one of those right.
Four knights had joined them in Los Angeles and now they were all looking at her. It wasn’t helping her nerves any. Faye had not had much time to get to know them, but most of them seemed like they would be okay.
The nice French girl didn’t talk much, but when she did, she talked with a funny accent. It made her sound exotic. She’d introduced herself as Colleen Giraudoux, but everybody else just called her Whisper, so Faye did too. She was very refined and pretty, with dark, elaborately constructed hair that was way nicer than Faye’s flat, straw-colored and constantly tangled mop. She even dressed fancy and wore a
—H. G. Wells,
Anticipations of the Reaction of
Magical and Scientific Progress Upon
Human Life and Thought , 1901
UBF Minotaur
Somewhere over Nevada
IT WAS FRUSTRATING SOMETIMES. She seemed to have a stronger natural attachment to the Power than anybody else around, though she wasn’t nearly as strong as she’d somehow become on the Tokugawa, but she was mediocre at creating anything more than the most rudimentary of spells. Sure, she could Travel like it was nobody’s business, which was supposed to be one of the hardest types of magic to master, what with all the possible ways of crashing into things and dying, so why couldn’t she make this stupid communication spell work right? And now everybody was staring at her, wondering why the girl that had supposedly fought the Chairman couldn’t even get a stupid little spell to take.
Faye, Mr. Browning, and the new volunteers had left L.A. a few hours ago, catching the first blimp heading east. They were rushing back to help, though nobody really had any idea what helping meant in this case. It wasn’t like she could shoot or stab her way out of so many folks hating Actives. Moving made her feel like she was doing something though. Heck, on a blimp, even when they were sleeping they were moving. One nice thing about blimping was that the staterooms tended to have pretty comfy beds, which meant you could usually get a good night’s sleep on one, at least until your Grimnoir ring tried to burn your finger off.
It had been about five minutes since Faye’s ring had turned hot enough to wake her up. It wasn’t just her, either. All of the assorted Grimnoir aboard the Minotaur had received the same signal and it had been a strong one. Somebody really wanted to talk. They had gathered in the observation bubble because it was quiet and they could lock the door to keep out snooping crew members.
Since Faye had gotten here first, she’d volunteered to cast, and now she was regretting it. It was starting to frazzle her nerves, but she wouldn’t give the unfamiliar knights the satisfaction of seeing her fail. She redrew the design in the pile of salt and tried once again to concentrate on letting her own Power connect. Lance made it look so easy. Focus , he’d said, the Active provides the juice. You’re just a battery. The Power knows what to do based on what part of it you draw.
There were many different material components that could be used for spells. The Grimnoir had learned them through trial and error. The most common was good old fashioned salt or fine sand, because you could try again if you screwed it up. Even dirt would work if you were good enough. It was harder to do, but a spell could be scratched onto a glass surface, though she’d never managed to get one of those right.
Four knights had joined them in Los Angeles and now they were all looking at her. It wasn’t helping her nerves any. Faye had not had much time to get to know them, but most of them seemed like they would be okay.
The nice French girl didn’t talk much, but when she did, she talked with a funny accent. It made her sound exotic. She’d introduced herself as Colleen Giraudoux, but everybody else just called her Whisper, so Faye did too. She was very refined and pretty, with dark, elaborately constructed hair that was way nicer than Faye’s flat, straw-colored and constantly tangled mop. She even dressed fancy and wore a
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