A Historian Mage’s Duty

Having always been a morning person, Basttias typically arrived at the guild early. However, on this day, he didn't get there until almost noon. He had been on edge since learning of the dangerous mage, and the knowledge had kept him up late into the night. What little sleep he got hadn’t made him feel much better, and in his agitated state, he was feeling the pull of his magic more than usual.

The first thing all mages learned was to ignore the call of their magic. Without that training, it was possible for a mage to accidentally wander down the more dangerous corridors of their minds. It had been decades since this had been a concern for Basttias, but after arriving at his office, Basttias closed his eyes to rest, and the next thing he knew, he was contemplating his magic.

By the time he regained enough control of himself, he could already feel the flow of his magical energy increasing. It was a small change, and it didn’t feel dangerous. Maybe, he thought, a little more wouldn’t hurt. Then he felt a sudden surge in his magic.

Stop, a voice in his head warned him. Don’t think on that. It’s too soon. You’re not ready for it yet. Basttias felt his mind move to a different track of contemplation, and his magical power continued to grow slowly. This pattern repeated itself, but the second time the voice spoke in his head, something about it felt off.

That’s not my voice, Basttias thought to himself. Is someone else there? Am I being controlled? There was no answer. Basttias wanted to ignore what had happened, to pretend it was just his tiredness catching up to him, for he feared the answer to his next question. Are you… the dangerous mage?

So you’ve heard of me. I guess I don’t have to pretend anymore. It’s nice to meet you, Basttias Daloro.

⁂

“So, Mr. Blackford, what do you think of my city?”

Ashtin raised an eyebrow. He was riding shotgun with General Winmore, who, in contrast to their last meeting, was wearing an amicable smile. The two of them were on their way to observe Pavel’s interrogation. Wincent had picked Ashtin up from Dr. Shreburn’s office that morning, but they were late to their appointment because General Winmore was taking them the long way around the city. Ashtin initially assumed it was for security reasons, but now he couldn’t help but wonder if this was a misguided attempt at a tour.

“Your city, general?”

“Figure of speech. When you’ve defended a place as long as I have, you can’t help but form an attachment. The question still stands.”

Looking back out the window, Ashtin tried to find something unique about the city, aside from the boarded up windows and rampant graffiti. High-rises, made of concrete, steel, and glass, formed a dense urban core. Further out, concrete low-rises gave way to smaller family houses, built from wood. None of the buildings would have looked out of place on twenty-first century Earth, but their designs were functional and boring. Industry, farming, and outdoor recreation surrounded the city, distributed evenly so the residents would need not travel far to reach them. The roads were free of other cars, but that wasn’t unusual. Most transportation was handled by the automated trams that circled and crisscrossed the city. What was unusual was that these trams were empty.

Shrugging, Ashtin turned back toward General Winmore. “Except for all the blight, seems like every other city.”

“It’s seen more than its fair share of trouble over the years. City guard has had to put down more mages than any other, but despite that, this settlement has always ranked extremely highly on productivity and educational attainment. I like to think we’re blessed and cursed in equal measure, or I used to, anyway. Can’t imagine any blessing that can make up for what we’ve been through.”

“General, are you trying to tell me that the settlement’s high education level may be the cause of unrest? I couldn’t help but notice that the settlement doesn’t rank highly in happiness.”

“It would make sense, wouldn’t it? When people can actually see their cages, they’re bound to get upset. But no, the council looked into it and assured me that wasn’t the case. In fact, the more educated the individual, the more satisfied they’re likely to be with the council’s rule. Many even wish the council would take a firmer hand, if you can believe it.”

“Makes sense to me. When you live in comfort and security, you become less tolerant of inconveniences. So if it’s not coming from the citizenry, then you suspect…”

“The mages.” General Winmore nodded. “Given how many we’ve had to put down, those assigned to this settlement are overly fearful of the guard. We even scared away our historian mages. It’s just bad luck. Someone has to be the outlier, but good luck convincing them.”

Two blocks up ahead, Ashtin spotted a man on a cherry-picker cleaning graffiti off a high-rise, several stories up. Perhaps General Winmore was on to something. It wouldn’t be impossible for a civilian to pull off a caper like that, but it would be a lot easier for a mage to do it.

“You sure it wasn’t you, personally, who chased them off? You weren’t exactly the most welcoming when a historian mage decided to move in yesterday.”

“Ha! You got me there. I don’t trust mages, and I probably never will.” The smile faded from his face, and he pulled the car over to the side of the road. “That includes you, of course, but as long as we’re helping each other, we might as well play nice. Now get out of my car. We’re here.”

Stepping out of the car, Ashtin looked up at the closest high-rise and found the council’s logo over the entrance. The cherry-picker was parked a few meters away. The vandal hadn’t defaced just any building: They had defaced the council headquarters.

Ashtin clicked his tongue. “The cheek.”

⁂

“Ashtin Blackford and General Wincent Winmore are here,” a gynoid voice announced, knocking on the door to Pavel’s interrogation room. Ginevra had no idea why the general was accompanying them, but if the other council members had allowed him in, there must be a good reason. She would have to do her best to guess so that she did not give away the fact that she had disconnected herself from the network.

“Greetings,” she said, stepping out of the interrogation room. “General, the patient is wary of guards. The sight of your uniform may set us back. You may observe from the next room through a one-way mirror.

“Patient?” the general asked. “I thought you were interrogating a suspect.”

“We are interrogating and providing counseling simultaneously.”

“This way, general,” the other gynoid offered, and nodding, General Winmore followed. Once they were safely out of sight, Ginevra opened the door and allowed Ashtin inside.

“Mr. Blackford,” Pavel called out, “how good of you to come. I—”

Ashtin turned his palms upward. “Please, call me Ashtin.”

“Well yes, of course, but I must apologize to you for what I did yesterday.” His eyes flitted between Ashtin and the staff that was always following him.

“I understand. Apologizing to those you wronged is an important step toward getting your life back on the right track, but as far as I’m concerned, you have nothing to apologize for. Rather, I should apologize for wrapping you in chains.”

“No. Even if I failed, I intended to steal from you, and I didn’t warn you that you were about to be attacked. Please, accept my apology.”

“Fair enough. I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine.”

“Deal.” In his excitement, Pavel blurted out his agreement, but then, unsure of what to say next, fell silent. Ginevra didn’t say anything, content to quietly observe them.

“Why don’t we sit down and talk?” Ashtin offered. The room was furnished with a table, four chairs, and a small bed in which Pavel had spent the night. With a twirl of his finger, Ashtin conjured a tall glass of water on the table. “I’d offer you some food, but I’m afraid this is all I’m capable of.”

“The council has been feeding me.” Pavel took a seat across from him.

“Of course they have, but there aren’t any kitchens in this building. I bet they’ve been bringing in packaged food from the convenience store across the street. It’s probably been a while since you had a proper meal.”

“Longer than you might think. I used to cook for myself, but I… stopped. It didn’t seem worth the effort. Besides, prepackaged meals don’t cost as much.”

“That’s true,” Ashtin said, though he was completely unaware of the fact. His meals had always been provided for him, and he had no idea what they cost. Even when he became an adult, he could visit the guild’s cafeteria for every meal.

He had tried prepackaged meals out of curiosity, and while they weren’t bad, they weren’t great either. He made a mental note to recommend to the council that they improve the flavor and texture of these meals as a means of promoting better mental health.

“Did you… have something specific you wanted to talk about?” Pavel asked.

“I hope you don’t mind, but when they asked me to come here today, the council shared with me some details about you. Mostly basic things like your age, occupation, gender, and physical characteristics, but something caught my eye. They attached a list of your personality traits which they deemed risk factors for criminal behavior.” He turned his head to Ginevra. “Can I show him?”

Ginevra nodded. With another twirl of his finger, Ashtin summoned a piece of paper. As he turned back to Pavel, Ginevra kept her attention on the young mage. During Pavel’s previous interrogation, he had repeatedly associated living with suffering, something Ashtin had done in jest during his most recent counseling session. Although a historian mage would normally be above suspicion, the desperate situation required Ginevra to leave no stone unturned, and so she needed to determine whether Ashtin was related to, or even responsible for, the violence taking over the city.

“According to this, you’re lonely, and you’ve suffered a recent string of bad luck. That puts you in a high-risk category, but there are also factors that are inconsistent with criminal behavior. Most interestingly, they list you as having a high degree of empathy.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” Pavel looked down at the table. “Even if I did, why is that interesting to you? Are you trying to gloat or something?”

“Not at all. Of course, I came because the council wanted you to apologize to me, but they also asked for my help. They said it might be better if you talked with another biological human, someone you could empathize with. I’ve benefited so much from counseling, but this is the first chance I’ve ever had to pay it forward. That’s why I’m so interested in you. Does that make sense?”

“It does. Sometimes, after counseling, I feel so guilty that they’re spending so much time and effort for my sake. It would make me feel better if I could help too.”

While Ashtin's primary goal was to determine if Pavel had been under the influence of magic, he didn’t mind helping with counseling in the process.

“You hear that?” Ashtin turned his head to look at Ginevra with a smirk on his face. “He empathizes just as well with you as he does me.” Returning his attention to Pavel, he said, “The council considers your empathy as a boon, but it has a downside, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“There are times when you have to choose whether to take something for yourself or to let someone else have it,” Leaning forward, Ashtin spoke softly. “It might be that you and a friend both have crushes on the same person, or maybe you’re both being considered for the same promotion. You know that you’ll feel bad if your friend gets what you want, and you know that the friend will feel just as bad if you get it. In the end, you step aside, hoping that the good feelings you get from doing something altruistic will cancel out the disappointment you feel.”

“Sure.” Pavel shrugged. “Maybe something like that happened once or twice, but that’s life. We all have things we regret, but I don’t think they make us worse people.”

“The council would agree with you. They have a tendency to view all human actions, even their own, as survival strategies, and try to design things to disincentivize antisocial strategies. No matter how hard they try, however, there’s an aspect no policy can do away with: We’re wired to always want more, no matter how good we have it. The council has created a world where all our basic needs have been taken care of, so we should be content with what we have, and that makes us feel guilty.”

Of course, the gynoids knew this, but Pavel had demonstrated that he did not trust their ability to understand his emotions. The council had provided Ashtin with an outline of what to say, but not a script. They wanted him to speak in his own words, to appear more genuine.

“Even you?” Pavel’s voice shuddered as he asked the question. “But you’re a mage. Anything you want, the council or your magic can provide.”

“Not everything. My magic is limited to certain kinds of spells, and being a mage has its drawbacks. Forming emotional bonds with others is difficult.”

That was an understatement. Mages were ostracized by most of society out of fear. It was nearly impossible to form connections with them. That’s why the fist-bump he had shared earlier had made Ashtin so happy. It was a small gesture, but one that he would remember and treasure for the rest of his life.

“I guess that’s the same for everyone.” Pavel chuckled. “But still, you’re a mage. You have privileges I’ll never have. You have talents that make you useful.”

“And if I didn’t have those talents?” For the first time in the conversation, Ashtin was truly focusing on himself, rather than sharing anecdotes meant to gain Pavel’s trust. “I’ve got no other skills, and I’ve never been the greatest at studying. My history teachers often say—”

“You’re a historian mage?!” Pavel interrupted. “I’ve often thought about what life must have been like on Earth. Can I ask you some questions?”

“Things on Earth weren’t that great. Honestly, there’s a good reason why that knowledge is classified. Some days, I learn things that make me want to shut myself in my room and drown myself in mindless entertainment so I never have to think about them again.”

“But you learn only what the council teaches you, right? Maybe they’re lying in order to make themselves look like the saviors of humanity they claim to be.”

Ashtin hesitated before answering. “It’s possible, but I don’t think it’s likely. They’re not that imaginative. And it’s not like it’s all bad, it just mostly wasn’t very good, and there were some really horrific things. I’d much rather live in the present than live on old Earth.”

“That’s—” Pavel shot up out of his seat. “There’s got to be something better than this!”

“Maybe there is.” Ashtin instinctively stood in response. Pavel’s sudden mood swing caught him off guard. “Or rather, maybe there can be in the future.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about that.” Pavel allowed his shoulders to drop and the tension to leave his body. “I spent so much time imagining the past, that I didn’t think about the future. Thank you Ashtin.” Coming halfway around the table, he held his hand out for Ashtin to shake.

“I don’t think I did that much.” Ashtin smiled as he shook Pavel’s hand.

“Nonsense.” Pavel held Ashtin’s hand firmly, refusing to let go. There was a manic glint in his eye that hadn’t been there a moment prior. “You’ve inspired me to take the first step toward a better future. If history is so awful, we can just do away with the past. In the future, we won’t need historians.”

Something in Pavel’s left hand caught Ashtin’s eye, but it was too late. Pavel had somehow acquired a knife. He pulled Ashtin toward him and sunk the knife into Ashtin’s left side. The blade passed between his ribs.

“We won’t need mages either,” Pavel added.