“Let’s not waste time,” a Benefactor said. “Tell her the essentials.”
“She’s young. She would be skeptical,” another Benefactor warned.
“And have you considered that she’s a product – of your Soviet Union? She won’t believe in magic just like that.”
Stacy’s eyes were swivelling to and fro. She was trying to track the voices. Some sounded a bit familiar, but not in the sense that she had actually heard such a voice with her own ears. But rather these voices sounded as though she had heard them before, except from other people’s mouths. Or in written texts and quotes. It was a strange feeling.
“Enough. Let me do the talking,” a Benefactor said. His tone suggested that he was not concerned whether Stacy would believe him. Yet she felt his voice commanded respect.
And to Stacy, this Benefactor continued:
“Anastasia, you have certain rare talents. Most people with these talents also do not have your particular mix of circumstances and opportunities, so they don’t go very far. But you have the natural ability to resist mind spells, and this ability can be developed greatly.”
Pause.
Stacy stared at the Benefactor as though she was trying to see the human being behind the silhouette.
“Unlike almost everyone else in this country, you were born abroad. You have no ethnic ties, no natural biases, no commitment to any ideology or creed.
Yet you have a good education and an intelligent, inquiring mind. And you have endlessly researched and read all kinds of topics throughout your life.”
There was another pause as the Benefactor let his words sink in.
“With your immense mental potential, you can develop a truly deep mana pool. This makes you one of the top budding spellcasters of your generation.”
Stacy stared at the Benefactor – or at least his silhouette on the screen.
“Is this, is this a game? A fantasy game?” She asked. “Am I dreaming?”
“This is The Real World™,” the Benefactor answered.
“If you’re right, it is a real world of magic.”
“Oh yes, magic has always existed in the world.”
“This world moves around mana, mani, manu and mano,” another Benefactor commented.
Stacy shook her head with an expression of disconcert. She had played computer games such as Might & Magic before, so she knew what mana and mani were. Mana was basically magical power. Mani, also spelled money in English, was economic power. But she was not familiar with manu and mano. And she was not expecting to have a conversation with much older men on the computer games that she sometimes played. She decided to keep the focus on mana first.
“I can understand money. But magic? This sounds insane.”
Another Benefactor intervened. “Stacy,” he said soothingly. “In the Soviet Union, no, in every country and society across the world, they teach young people that there is no such thing as magic. But really, it’s just a plot, a joint plot, by elites around the world to prevent young people from despairing or challenging the status quo.”
“And so you’re telling me there is magic?”
“It’s something that only elite people, high performing people, the smartest and most talented people discover as they rise through the ranks of their societies.”
Another Benefactor spoke up. “Bankers work financial magic. Artists and architects work illusion magic. Doctors wield magic that can heal and harm. And politicians, psychiatrists, writers and journalists can also work magic on the mind.”
“The most dangerous magic of all – Mind Magic,” somebody else said.
“All right, so if there’s magic, what’s the point you’re trying to make? That I have great potential?”
“Not just potential as a spellcaster. There are lots of spellcasters everywhere – such as financial wizards and hackers. Your potential is rare.
You have multiple, cross disciplinary and interdisciplinary interests. These allow you to learn a broad range of things, and attain a degree of competence in different mental disciplines. Then you can work a broad range of magics. In the past, they called people with such a broad range of talents, Archmages.”
“And then there is the all-important resistance to mind spells. There is no use to having great magical power, if others can manipulate your mind, and therefore gain control of your magical powers. Many dictators, demagogues, religious figures and cultural figures can cast mind spells. Their power mostly came from being able to control people. As an independent thinker, you are resistant to their mind spellcasting.”
A third Benefactor spoke up.
“And don’t forget, you all keep forgetting,” the Benefactor addressed his colleagues. “Anastasia also has her Tranquility Aura.”
“Oh yes, how could we have forgotten?” Someone exclaimed.
“It makes us tranquil, we just got lazy or relaxed I guess!” Another Benefactor said.
“It’s the Tranquility Aura that makes her most dangerous!”
“Um, what’s this Tranquility thing you’re talking about? It makes me peaceful and dangerous?” Stacy spoke up.
“It’s the combination of everything about you which makes you so dangerous!”
Stacy’s expression must have been obvious, so another Benefactor hastened to add: “To the authorities, we mean. Not to innocent and ordinary folks.”
…
So the Benefactors explained.
“A Tranquility aura discourages aggression and violence. You are a threat to anyone who wants to wage war or aggression against others.”
“Ever wondered why you can walk into war zones and conflict areas where there are angry people, and interview these people without any threat to yourself? It’s because you have this calming effect on them.”
Another Benefactor pointed out: “You were meant to be kicked out of Chechnya, locked up, or given a good beating for interfering in the army’s operations. But none of the people who were supposed to do it, wound up doing any serious harm to you. It’s because you have this aura that discourages them from taking aggressive action.”
Stacy’s pinched face suggested she thought differently. She had been nearly raped by Chechen soldiers in Moscow’s pay. They shoved Stacy against a wall, pinned her hands over her head- and pushed a rifle barrel between her legs to humiliate her…
Ugh…
Stacy blushed and looked down.
But she couldn’t mention this to the Benefactors, most of whom were men.
Then a female voice spoke.
“Stacy, you are thinking about that rifle, am I right?”
Stacy’s head jerked up in shock.
Just what were these Benefactors? How could they – anyone – know?
But Stacy had to remain calm. Sometimes people did mental tricks with cold reading…
The female voice spoke soothingly. “Stacy, that time was no accident. The soldiers didn’t just want to attack – to rape you – out of lust. They were even ordered to ‘teach that slut what she’s only good for’.”
Stacy felt the blood run from her face. What are the Benefactors? Why do they know so much?
“But they didn’t.”
Stacy closed her eyes. Yes, they didn’t. She had not known why.
And now come to think of it…
Various incidents ran through Stacy’s mind.
She had been lucky. Just plain lucky, she thought to herself. She had once been led blindfolded behind a rocket launcher… only slightly closer, and she could have been burned badly by the exhaust of firing rockets…
“All along it was your budding Tranquility Aura that protected you,” the female Benefactor said.
Now another female Benefactor spoke up.
“Have you thought about how some women can keep injured animals calm, heal the sick or can enter a room full of shouting men and prevent a fight from taking place?”
Stacy shook her head.
“You have dormant powers working for you.”
“Which you unconsciously honed over the years, when interviewing victims of domestic abuse, rape or war crimes.
“And your Tranquility Aura is now strong enough that even a battle hardened, ruthless man changed his mind about raping you. Another man placed you that ten centimeters further away from the Grad rockets, which prevented a serious accident.”
Stacy gripped her coat.
“And because there were repeated failures to stop you, that word filtered up all the way to the Citadel. Then your case was studied by the wizards in the secretive departments of the security apparatus. Reports were made. And then the presid- correction, chairman of the government in this country grew alarmed at the complete report.”
“Hence the order to kill.”
“You are a potential threat to the system. You must be eliminated.”
At the mention of this personage, Stacy’s heart sank. She could not continue operating as a journalist in this country anymore.
No, wait, it was worse than that.
Stacy could not expect to operate freely anywhere anymore. One of these days an accident could happen. Or a random carjacking or robbery gone wrong. Or she might fall out of a window in a high building.
What to do next? Hide or go into exile? And even in exile, should she lay low? Or come out with guns blazing, writing articles, meeting people and letting the world know about her situation?
…
“But my Tranquility Aura – it didn’t protect me from the 5 men who tried to kill me.”
“Auras are not all powerful. It takes time for an aura to work. If the 5 men didn’t have long exposure to you, they would be little affected.
Moreover they could have been under the influence of mind spells. Or they may be simply totally determined to kill you. At level two currently, your Aura is still only at a fraction of its full potential. A weak aura can’t overcome a stronger determination to kill.”
…
…
A Benefactor decided that Stacy was still struggling with all these unfamiliar information.
“Stacy, let’s put aside your skepticism about magic and mind spell immunity for now. Focus on the issue of your Tranquility Aura.”
“Are you aware of how auras work?” another Benefactor asked. “You have enough life experience to see some people’s auras in play. You would have not sensed anything magical, since an Aura does not require mana to function.”
Stacy closed her eyes and reflected deeply.
There were good leaders…
There were healing people…
Inspiring people…
And also people who brought out the worst in others. Such as Greed and Bloodlust…
Wait a moment, Stacy thought to herself. Auras do exist! A lot of powerful and capable people in the world do have Auras that affect other people nearby!
Stacy remembered the Unholy Aura in a computer game. It was supposed to make the undead function faster. Well, she had come across such auras before. Factory and business owners whose very presence could make corporate drones move much faster. Prison wardens who could make chain gangs work harder just by showing up at the worksite. Sports team owners who only needed to sit down in the stadium, and they could make their athletes run more quickly…
Stacy had also come across another aura, that detractors called a Vampiric Aura. It was supposed to make the undead regenerate themselves by feeding on living people. She had come across these in some New York lawyers. No wonder they could keep working even as other people near them felt sick and ill. These lawyers used Vampiric Aura to draw strength from others.
Stacy’s expression told the Benefactors that she did know about Auras. So a Benefactor continued:
“An aura is like a spell that you keep auto-casting without needing to use any magical power such as mana. You can have an effect on others with an aura, at no cost or strain to yourself.”
Another Benefactor piped up. “You won’t even need to be aware of the aura for it to have an effect. You certainly have not shown yourself to be conscious of your own aura.”
“Yes, I definitely was not aware,” Stacy admitted.
“Right now your Tranquility Aura is weak, and you won’t affect anybody except yourself and those very close to you.”
Stacy shivered. She remembered the bearded Chechen fighter coming closer and closer to her face. He pressed closer…
But there the memory stopped. That was it. The man had penetrated her comfort zone and practically pressed himself against Stacy. It was obvious to anyone around that Stacy had no means of resisting. But something indeed had happened, and the fighter lost interest in raping her.
He had even apologized, however curtly, for frightening Stacy.
“… if you become aware of your aura, and follow our advice to cultivate and nurture this aura, it will become powerful. And then you might be able to threaten the functioning of Minoboron.”
The Ministry of Defence of the Russian Federation. Also known as Minoboron, which I usually just short-form to M‘oron, Stacy thought to herself. She could not imagine herself wanting to even talk to a general unless it was for an assignment. These folks were really less than intellectually engaging most of the time.
“Imagine some day fifteen or twenty years hence, when the government wants to attack some other country. You walk into Arbatskaya and ask to interview some member of the General Staff. You enhance your Tranquility Aura to max effect, and throw in some mind spells. By the time the interview is over, nobody wants to fight a war.”
“That is what I can do?” Stacy asked in amazement.
“That is what you have the potential of doing.”
…
Stacy needed some time to process this. Another Benefactor continued:
“The world is full of people with talents in one area or another. Your unique potential is to become an Archmage with Mind Spell immunity and Tranquility Aura. If you level up, you may become entirely immune to mind spells. The government cannot control you. And all the time you will be increasing your own skills and powers, so you will become increasingly capable of countering the mind spells cast by government propagandists.”
A Benefactor pointed with one shadowed finger.
“That’s why they want to kill you. If left to develop on your own, you are an annoyance to them at best, and a serious threat at worst.”
“Um, I don’t have an army. I don’t have connections. I don’t have wealth,” Stacy responded. “All I can do is to write.”
“Not true. You are still young. The magic of journalism, of academia, of truth finding and the powers of a fully grown Archmage, these are all beyond your current mental horizons. But the most powerful journalists can cast spells also. They can start a war. Or they can stop a war before it starts.”
…
“Your powers are only beginning to awaken,” the Benefactor said. “Follow our guidance, and you will become far more powerful.”
“I don’t seek power. I just want to do honest journalism,” Stacy replied. “Is there some way…”
Another Benefactor repeated: “Anastasia, you have this valuable potential. And you will become more powerful over time. That’s why the chairman is very wary of you.”
“In any case you are too valuable for us to let you get killed,” a Benefactor concluded grimly. “Our plan is to extract you.”
“Where? Outside the Moscow Ring Road?”
“Further than that,” came the terse answer.
Another Benefactor was more helpful with his response.
“110km away is Kaluga city, Kaluga Oblast. And another 120km away then you reach Kirov town in Kaluga Oblast. Shaykovka airbase is just a little north of Kirov town. Somewhere in the region between these places is an old industrial facility, a huge hanger that we acquired.
There, we have an airship waiting for you.”
Stacy’s eyes were darting to and fro. What was this talk about an airship?
“Uh, where are you planning to extract me to?”
“You can live aboard this airship. And it can take you anywhere you want to go.”
This sounded ludicrous. If the chairman had ordered Stacy taken out, surely she would be stopped at the border? Stacy said it. “How do you think I can cross borders in a huge thing like an airship?”
“It’s a cloaked airship,” another Benefactor added helpfully. “We have the latest technologies.”
“Even with cloaking, an airship is a big vessel. Surely it will be noticed?”
“You are right. When in a populated area, it’s still noticeable. And there are air defences around the capital. That’s why it was parked at its home base, our hanger. We can’t risk taking to the air so near to Moscow.”
“The cloaking is good. As long as you don’t do stupid things like hang around near an airbase or sensitive area, you won’t be noticed…”
“And we can arrange for a new identity for you. New documents, new bank account…”
“We want to employ you, Anastasia. And we will train you to realize your potential.”
“The same applies to the other four women who rescued you. They will be part of your team. And we are also committed to employing and training them.”
“Then there is the question. What do you want us to do?” Stacy asked. “I can’t just agree to be your employee.
In fact, I don’t even know enough about my teammates. They seem to be very different people – and by that I mean more than just from different ethnic groups.”
Stacy made a gesture of turning one hand.
“I’ve noticed, well, that they seem to be from different disciplines. What kind of work are we going to do together?”
The Benefactors had given Stacy a strong sense that they were benevolent and well intentioned. But a good impression was not enough. Stacy had to feel more confident that there was a clear intention and the team was up to the tasks it was expected to do.
…
“How do you feel about your teammates?”
“We seem to have received different training,” Stacy replied.
“Exactly. Everyone is different.”
“What we need – the most basic, bread and soup of your work, is something you are accustomed to doing and can do well. That of fact finding.”
“They don’t have journalist experience, do they?”
“Your teammates are all different, and together you can do field research well.”
The Benefactors then went on to explain. There were many locations in the world where information was lacking. Maybe it was an open inland sea such as the Caspian. Maybe it was a hot desert like Luz in Iran. Maybe it was a remote Arctic ocean. Or maybe it was a formerly closed city in the ex-USSR.
A cloaked airship had many advantages. It allowed the team to travel to very remote locations, and hover indefinitely in the region while necessary samples were taken and tested, or observations were taken from altitudes, and so on.
“Isn’t this all very expensive?”
“Yes, the airship costs an immense amount,” a Benefactor said. “Two hundred million dollars have been put into this project.”
Stacy could barely resist stifling a gasp.
“The majority of the costs are actually with the cloaking,” a Benefactor said on seeing Stacy’s expression. “Some one hundred fifty million in fact.”
Stacy had a troubled expression on her face, because she knew that in The Real World™, good things didn’t just happen like that. People didn’t just rescue you and give you a two hundred million dollar place to live without strings attached.
Sensing Stacy’s suspicion, a Benefactor addressed her. “Anastasia, we do appreciate your doubts. Rest assured that this is a legitimate project. We are truth seekers. There are many people and organizations in the world who would pay a lot of money for good quality information, and information is what our business side is after.”
There are simply too many places in the world where too little is known. And it costs a lot of money each time to organize a team just to go to the middle of the desert, or tundra, some taiga forest, to collect samples.
“It is also difficult and unsafe to hire helicopters in many cases. An airship allows you to hover for long periods with minimum fuel costs and is far more stable,” another benefactor said.
“… moreover, a lot of work does not need to be performed by doctorate level professionals. Most of this is collecting data. Universities and research institutes do not like to risk their top talent to go into the field just to get a few samples.
Your team can do it, without making some elderly professor take a bunch of flights.”
…
“An airship also has unique capabilities,” another Benefactor pointed out. “You can hover and travel over a vast area with minimal need for fuel consumption. That allows you to take better pictures than satellites, take samples of air quality, monitor changes below such as spreading oil and chemical spills. You will be able to give us excellent information.”
“This sounds legitimate. But why the secrecy – the cloaking?”
“The reason is that most countries do not like being surveiled from the skies. It causes a lot of regulatory and licensing headaches and delays everywhere you go – especially in the authoritarian countries where too much information is hidden by state monopoly on information. If we want to investigate some natural phenomenon, or reports of a toxic spill from above, we need to do so quickly. To pass through many political barriers delays and degrades the quality of the information. It allows local governments or local bad actors to hide their actions.”
“Hmm…” Stacy put a hand to her chin thoughtfully. This sounded perfectly legitimate.
“You have expressed concern about the diversity of your team. But actually your teammates and you form an excellent combination. They were all excellent students, 95 percentile or A grade students. If they had been born in wealthy countries, they would all have qualified to be postgraduate research assistants.
A lot of the work will require you to travel to distant places, collect soil samples, biological samples, air samples, and so on. We have outfitted the airship with some lab facilities, so some analysis may be performed on board.
Some of the initial data analysis can be done onboard. An electrical engineer with programming knowledge can do some of the necessary programming and data crunching.
Your ship’s engineer will also be called upon at times. As a mechanical engineer, she can contribute to structural analysis of remote structures for structural integrity, stability, and so on.
And your own Journalism helps you with interviews of local residents and employees…
So it is a sound team for fact finding and field analysis in a part of the world…” the Benefactor trailed off.
It occurred to Stacy, with her journalist’s experience, that maybe the Benefactor didn’t want to say what a lot of people in other countries would say.
…
Various unflattering comments about Russian lies or Soviet deceptions.
Because people didn’t trust Russia, they preferred to do their own fact finding over Russia instead of depending on official statistics or pronouncements.
…
Stacy put on a smile. This was not her country by choice. And even by smiling at strangers, she was already going against custom in this country.