emerged and spread was horrifying. But stranger, and even more terrible, was the fact that it only affected children. Infant children. Not every child caught it, but few families were spared the heartbreak of at least one case. Will’s own sister, Catherine—born a few years before him—had lived only a few days before succumbing. And while Jenny’s older sister, Claire, had survived the illness, it had left her a lifelong invalid.
Over the next ten years, hundreds of thousands died and the lives of millions more were ruined. The turning point came when scientists at a company called Sanitas Pharmaceutics made a key discovery—the Black Flu was not a strain of influenza. It was not any kind of virus or bacterium at all. Rather, it was an allergic reaction, triggered by the passage of magical energy through the channels of the body. And while some degree of allergic sensitivity was found in all children born after 1878—the scientists could not find a single individual born earlier who showed signs of it.
The scientists could not explain this strange sharp demarcation. They could only give it a name and a date: The Great Change of 1878 .
Learning the true nature of the malady had made it possible to develop a medication to combat it. Stopping the allergic reaction merely required blocking the channels through which magical energy flowed in the body. Creating a chemical compound that produced this effect was not difficult. It was called the Panchrest, and it successfully brought the Black Flu to heel. In less than two years, the worst was over.
But the Black Flu had shredded the civic fabric, and that was not so easily mended. Before the Great Change, magic had been woven into society at every level. It was called upon for small daily conveniences and grand splendid achievements alike. Magic, it was often said, had built America. And in the decades preceding the Great Change, the uses of magic had become ever more industrial and expansive—so vast that no one could have imagined any limit to them.
But then the Malmantic Generation had come along. They could not use magic as their parents and grandparents had. Those who even attempted it would suffer bouts of violent illness, the result of their inborn allergic sensitivity. And the more magic they used, the sicker they would become.
People born before 1878—like Ma’am—came to be called “Old Users.” They suffered no ill-effects from channeling magic. There was nothing stopping them from using it as they always had—and so they did. Why shouldn’t they? They had grown up in a world steeped in it. They were used to its conveniences, and they were unable to comprehend the fear and resentment they engendered in the distinctly different species of human that was destined to replace them.
But now the century had turned. The Malmantic Generation—the first generation of the twentieth century—was coming into its own. The youngest members were already well into their thirties. What form would those fears and resentments take, Will wondered. Would the day come when his Ma’am would be truly hated for what she was, even by her beloved goddaughter?
Jenny broke what had become a long silence. “You sore at me?”
Will had slowed the Baker to a crawl. They had come to a place where irrigation runoff from the hill above had made the road soggy.
“You asked if Otherwheres are magic,” Will finally said, as he looked down along the running board to gauge the softness of the mud as he brought the Baker across it. “Otherwheres are just different dimensions of our own reality. Back in the day when witches and warlocks were more common than they are now, Otherwheres were mostly accessed using magic. But now we access them using science. So ... nothing to worry about. All right?”
“All right,” said Jenny, relaxing visibly. “But I still don’t quite get what an Otherwhere is, exactly.”
“It’s a different plane of reality, a different ... shade.” Will
Over the next ten years, hundreds of thousands died and the lives of millions more were ruined. The turning point came when scientists at a company called Sanitas Pharmaceutics made a key discovery—the Black Flu was not a strain of influenza. It was not any kind of virus or bacterium at all. Rather, it was an allergic reaction, triggered by the passage of magical energy through the channels of the body. And while some degree of allergic sensitivity was found in all children born after 1878—the scientists could not find a single individual born earlier who showed signs of it.
The scientists could not explain this strange sharp demarcation. They could only give it a name and a date: The Great Change of 1878 .
Learning the true nature of the malady had made it possible to develop a medication to combat it. Stopping the allergic reaction merely required blocking the channels through which magical energy flowed in the body. Creating a chemical compound that produced this effect was not difficult. It was called the Panchrest, and it successfully brought the Black Flu to heel. In less than two years, the worst was over.
But the Black Flu had shredded the civic fabric, and that was not so easily mended. Before the Great Change, magic had been woven into society at every level. It was called upon for small daily conveniences and grand splendid achievements alike. Magic, it was often said, had built America. And in the decades preceding the Great Change, the uses of magic had become ever more industrial and expansive—so vast that no one could have imagined any limit to them.
But then the Malmantic Generation had come along. They could not use magic as their parents and grandparents had. Those who even attempted it would suffer bouts of violent illness, the result of their inborn allergic sensitivity. And the more magic they used, the sicker they would become.
People born before 1878—like Ma’am—came to be called “Old Users.” They suffered no ill-effects from channeling magic. There was nothing stopping them from using it as they always had—and so they did. Why shouldn’t they? They had grown up in a world steeped in it. They were used to its conveniences, and they were unable to comprehend the fear and resentment they engendered in the distinctly different species of human that was destined to replace them.
But now the century had turned. The Malmantic Generation—the first generation of the twentieth century—was coming into its own. The youngest members were already well into their thirties. What form would those fears and resentments take, Will wondered. Would the day come when his Ma’am would be truly hated for what she was, even by her beloved goddaughter?
Jenny broke what had become a long silence. “You sore at me?”
Will had slowed the Baker to a crawl. They had come to a place where irrigation runoff from the hill above had made the road soggy.
“You asked if Otherwheres are magic,” Will finally said, as he looked down along the running board to gauge the softness of the mud as he brought the Baker across it. “Otherwheres are just different dimensions of our own reality. Back in the day when witches and warlocks were more common than they are now, Otherwheres were mostly accessed using magic. But now we access them using science. So ... nothing to worry about. All right?”
“All right,” said Jenny, relaxing visibly. “But I still don’t quite get what an Otherwhere is, exactly.”
“It’s a different plane of reality, a different ... shade.” Will
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