❧ i n b o x

[abheirrant]

—pposed to know when to start speaking? That wasn't a very thorough explanation on what I'm to do this, now was it? Hello? Hello? Are you listening to me? Are you even still ther— [beep]

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[abheirrant]

[Despite no longer being in the hands of the man who conjured it, the orb of water remains intact as Qubit takes it, leaving behind only the barest amount of moisture on the fingertips of Carlisle's gloves -- fingertips that he wrings as he tries to piece together all this new knowledge that Qubit is offering him. Admittedly, technology is less intimidating when breaking it down into parts, even if he doesn't fully comprehend each of those parts and the various terms associated with them. Taking it piece by piece allows him to compare it to concepts he does recognize, and that familiarity keeps him steady.]

I see... I think. There are some elements that still seem a bit like magic to me, albeit utilized in a very different way. Are you certain you have no interest in magic?

[superposition]

[ Qubit's brow crinkles, perplexed. How, he wonders, does any of this sound like magic? Does that just mean he failed to explain it properly? Okay yeah he's definitely going to get Carlisle a copy of those lectures. ]

... It isn't fair to call it disinterest per se. It's more that it's an exercise in frustration for me. For instance - can you explain to me how this globule is staying together?

[abheirrant]

[His eyes trail to the orb in question. Saying "magic" isn't very helpful, but it has been some time since he had to consider the principles behind a spell he has used so often that he could do it in his sleep. Well, assuming he could sleep anymore.]

There is the barest of an abjuration ward around it, held in place by what is, at this point, instinctual concentration.

[superposition]

[ Naw, Carlisle, you can still sleep! You're just godawful at it. ]

All right. But what exactly constitutes a ward, generally speaking? And what's meant by "abjuration" here? This may be going out on a limb, but I doubt the water has anything much to recant.

[abheirrant]

[That gets a chuckle out of him. Religious water, really.]

No no, abjuration as in a protective shield -- or in this case, a barrier that keeps something inside rather than out. Abjuration magic can be used either way. The glyph on your door is an abjuration ward, though a very different one.

[superposition]

[ Qubit nods attentively, starting to draw parallels to things he's more familiar with. ]

So in effect, it's roughly analogous to a force field? Like this one?

[ He indicates the personal shield generator on his belt. Jury's still out on what precisely it does and doesn't do, but it almost definitely saved his bacon from Kabal a couple weeks back. ]

[abheirrant]

Yes, I would say so. Except that the one around the water is much easier to break. Less magic used to keep it together and whatnot.

[You know who is happy he gave that thing to Qubit? This guy right here. It's maybe the one thing he doesn't regret at this point in his (un)life.]

[superposition]

[ You know who else is happy he gave that thing to Qubit? Qubit! ]

Right, right, obviously. [ He'd have figured it was weaker than that in any case, but the fact that it's leaving his hands damp is also pretty firm evidence. ] So you're maintaining the field through continuous application of eksth'alva. It's an expenditure of energy, in other words. But where does that energy come from?

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle gives Qubit a studying look.]

Do you want the long answer, or the short one?

[superposition]

Yes. Not necessarily in that order.

[abheirrant]

Short answer first, then.

[He pulls out bags of what is likely tea, as well as a small jar of sap.]

The energy comes from within us. Some say it is our very souls that we tap into as magical energy, while others insist it must be a divine connection, though I put little stock in the latter myself, given there are plenty of mages with no religious devotion to speak of.

[superposition]

[ Qubit notes the little jar with mild interest. That stuff, huh? He's had it before, it's not half bad, he just wasn't expecting it. He nods, though. ]

And if memory serves, you were already doing magic before you joined the priesthood, right? [ He tips the waterball gently into the kettle, and wipes his hands dry on his shirt before plugging it in. ] It sounds more apt to Reynir's sort of magic, actually. Not that either option is provable one way or the other.

[ Obviously you can't prove or disprove the existence of God, but the other choice isn't that much easier. After all, how do you quantify the soul? How do you prove its existence, or even define it? When Kaidan calls forth her spirits, are they actually the people they were in life, or merely psychic echoes preserved in the collective unconscious? Is there even a difference?

(Let's just file that one under "questions to never, ever ask Kaidan.") ]

[abheirrant]

[The orb collapses once inside the kettle, the water thoroughly filling the space. Carlisle, meanwhile, busies himself by pouring a bit of the sap into one of the mugs, closing the jar, then fishing a piece of paper and his pen from his satchel. Time to write another glyph, one that has some similarity to the one on the door -- but only some, as a couple of the sigils are completely different.]

How is it your ability works, then? You called it psionics, but never did explain how they differ from magic, aside from that their manifestation varies from individual to individual.

[Qubit getting attacked by a zombie and simultaneously hit with some of Carlisle's aural influence kind of derailed that conversation.]

[superposition]

[ Qubit watches the glyphcrafting process, curious. He conjured up the water easily enough without a glyph, so what's he doing now that would require one?

Anyway, psionics. This is a topic of great interest to Qubit, obviously, but spoiler alert, there's gonna be more science. ]

Do you want the long or short version?

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle, unfortunately, suspects there is going to be more science.]

Let us start with the short version.

[superposition]

All right, let's see. [ He puts a hand to his chin for a moment, thinking over how to phrase this. There are some pretty advanced concepts involved, and even the simplest analogy that comes to mind is above Carlisle's current grasp of physics. So... perhaps a more philosophical approach? He'll try to keep it light on the math, anyway. ]

Short version: "Psionics," as a field of study, describes the ways in which conscious minds can directly interact with matter, energy, and force. It differs from magic in that it's both universally consistent and empirically verifiable.

[ And it differs from "The Secret" in that it's not just New Age bullshit. ]

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle's brow knits as he slides the page with the glyph under the mug with the sap.]

How is it consistent when the abilities vary between individuals? Or are there more technomancers in your world?

[superposition]

"Technokinetics," and no, not that I'm aware of. But - understand, that's like asking how chemistry can be consistent when acids and bases have different properties. Chemical phenomena are extremely diverse, but they're all explained by the same underlying forces. It's the same way with psionics.

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle makes a mental note of the corrected term, but he may still call Qubit a technomancer until the heat death of the sun.]

And you believe magic cannot be explained in the same way?

[superposition]

That's just it. If it can, then by definition, it's not magic.

[ He's growing more animated, starting to talk with his hands. Apparently this is something he's put a lot of thought into over the years. ]

The thing about magic is, it can't be defined by what it is - only what it's not. Let's take the glyphs you drew in the supermarket way back when, for instance. They produced enough energy to reduce several dozen zombies to ash, but how? All you used was ordinary chalk, CaCO₃. Inert at room temperature, electrical insulator, no psionic properties whatsoever. Nothing about the pattern you drew should have conducted any kind of energy. Or - the one you just carved into my door. The material of the door is unchanged, the glyph itself is literally made of nothing -

[ He catches himself rambling, pauses to dial it back. ] It's just the pattern, right? The only thing that changes a glyph's functionality is the pattern of lines and shapes. Its position, the materials it's made of - none of that matters.

[abheirrant]

[There's something about Qubit just kind of rambling for a bit that's actually... kind of comforting. Familiar. Carlisle catches himself smiling despite the fact their two methods are at absolute odds with one another, all because he recognizes the passion Qubit has for such thorough explanations.]

You do have a point, though the glyph doesn't produce the energy. The glyph reacts to the energy contained within it as dictated by those patterns and shapes, as well as any inscription one may put here.

[He points to the page beneath the mug, specifically to a space between the two largest circles where he's scrawled what appears to be a sentence in what could be more magical symbols, but they're likely just another language.]

[superposition]

[ Qubit tilts his head sideways to inspect the symbols. Arcane sigils, a foreign language - either way, it's Greek to him. But he gets the concept, essentially, and he nods. ]

Hm. Sort of like a digital circuit.

[ He honestly hadn't thought of it that way before. Hardwired logic in the lines, a "program" of sorts in the margin... but it's still magic, he recalls, before he can get too caught up in speculation. It's interesting, sure, but that's beside the point. ]

However. A glyph has no physical reservoir where energy is stored. The energy itself comes from your soul, which is a whole other can of worms. And there's input, but no interpreter to parse it.

What I'm getting at is, a glyph is essentially a metaphysical construct. Its effects may be concrete and observable, even measurable - but the principles behind them are not. And, I'm reluctantly forced to postulate, cannot be.

[abheirrant]

[Unfortunately, Carlisle has no point of reference for most of the terminology Qubit uses. He picks at his sleeve, casting his eyes toward his companion.]

Just because you cannot observe the principles behind something does not mean there are not ways to observe them. Perhaps we simply haven't discovered them yet. Something may work without either of us knowing how.

[Says the walking conundrum.]

[superposition]

Oh, of course. Naturally. I'm not at all trying to say "everything I don't understand yet is magic." If there is some sixth or seventh fundamental interaction that ties it all together, then by all means, I'd love to be the one to discover it. It's just ...

[ He taps his finger on the table a few times, debating how to phrase it. ]

... For practical purposes, I have to accept - at least until I can prove otherwise - that some phenomena are real without being explicable by any science known to man. Which flies in the face of virtually everything else I believe in, but -

[ He lets out a sigh, frustrated. He'd love it if unraveling the mysteries of existence were the only thing on his plate. But he's lived that way before, and there's really no going back to it. Not without losing sight of what truly matters. ]

[abheirrant]

[There's that smile again behind Carlisle's mask -- it's born of understanding, however sobering it may be.]

But we must accept, however difficult it may be, that there are some phenomena we simply can't explain, even if for a time. Did you know from birth there were other worlds out there, and that you could travel to them? Did you emerge from the womb knowing about these psionics and how they operate?

[He doesn't really mean for those questions to be answered, and so he continues:]

There is no shame in not knowing everything, Mister Qubit. You're still likely the smartest person I know.