“Okay,” he concluded, wiping his lips, “I’m willing to concede the possibility that you might be Merlin the Magician. But, before I’m fully convinced, there are sure a hell of a lot of questions that I want answered.
“First, though, can you use that same trick to materialize something to drink? The cheeseburger made me thirsty.”
Chuckling, Merlin again spoke a few words, and a large McDonald’s cup filled with Coke appeared on his desk.
“How do you do that?” asked Jack, reaching out for the drink.
“A simple teleportation spell,” said Merlin. “It only works on small objects. There’s a fast-food restaurant down the street. I reach out with my mind and snag what I want when no one is watching. A few dollars transported to the cash drawer pays my tab. Merlin of Camelot,” he concluded a bit haughtily, “is not a freeloader.”
Jack drank the soda pop, his thoughts chaotic. Instead of discussing a fantasy world, he found himself in the midst of one. The notion challenged his sanity. Up until twenty minutes ago, he thought he understood the way the universe functioned. Not so any more.
“I’m willing to listen,” he declared uneasily, putting the drink down. “Though,” he added truthfully, “I’m not sure I want to hear what you have to say.”
“As reasonable a statement as one can make,” said Merlin. “I expected no more. Listen closely.
“All my life,” the magician continued somberly, “I have been a seeker of knowledge and truth. For nearly a millennium, I investigated the mystery of my origin. First by magic, and then during the past few hundred years, by science. I cannot guarantee what I tell you is the truth, but it is the only explanation I have.”
Jack nodded. Better to learn the facts, no matter how unbelievable. He recalled that Harold Shea, in the Incomplete Enchanter series, didn’t realize magic actually worked until halfway through the first novel. Thinking about the story, Jack realized why Megan had asked him so many questions about modern-day heroes confronting magic. She had been preparing him for these revelations. But why then the mathematics?
“Ever since the Age of Reason, man has sought to explain away the supernatural. Science has no tolerance for anything that cannot be examined under a microscope. Thus, faeries and elves, demons and devils are dismissed as the foolish beliefs of ignorant peasants. In this modern world there is no room for magic. Yet, it still exists, and with it all of the fanciful beasties and beings of myth and legend.”
Merlin paused, dramatically. The old man was not only a magician, Jack observed wryly, but a bit of a ham as well. “Humanity shares a collective subconscious. An overmind of unlimited potential, it has the power to forge dreams into reality. And it has done so for all of man’s history. This world-mind is the source of all occult and supernatural beings that have ever existed.
“I sprang into being a thousand years ago, created by the hopes and aspirations of all those who dreamed of a place called Camelot. Originally, wandering bards sang songs of the exploits of a nameless magician in Arthur’s court, making them up as they entertained. Soon, storytellers were weaving similar tales of magic, calling this sorcerer Merlin. The simple peasants of the time listened and believed what they heard was true.
“In time, the legend of Merlin the Magician grew famous throughout the land. Mankind’s collective subconscious absorbed my history and believed it true. People believed I existed. That evidently was enough. The line between fact and fancy blurred, and I was born.”
Again Merlin paused, as if awed by his own story. “Though perhaps ‘born’ is not the right word, for I emerged from the shadows exactly as you see me today—an old man with flowing white hair and silver beard. I was Merlin the Magician, weaver of spells, companion of kings.
“For hundreds of years, I traveled about the land, practicing my craft, battling injustices whenever possible. During that time, I encountered many others like me, beings created by mankind’s dreams and nightmares. Some were good, others evil, but most possessed both attributes, reflecting the dual nature of their creators.
“Gradually, humanity stopped believing in fairies and elves, ghouls and ghosts. Rationality overwhelmed superstition. Yet, though man no longer accepted us, we still survived.”
The magician rapped his knuckles on the desktop. “Despite my nebulous origins, I am as solid and real as any man. As is the case with any supernatural being. Once created, we exist independent of humanity’s wishes. Moreover, since our bodies are vortexes of mental energy, not flesh and blood, we neither age nor die.”
Merlin’s pronouncements made an odd sort of sense. Ever the science fiction and fantasy fan, Jack couldn’t help but wonder if this vast, collective subconscious mind as described by the magician wasn’t actually a manifestation of mankind’s latent psionic power. The idea offered all sorts of possibilities. He envisioned a gigantic pool of mental energy tapped upon by an unsuspecting humanity, giving life to its dreams… and nightmares.
“How do you explain your magic?” he asked, half-suspecting the answer.
“As a creation of this pool of psychic energy, I, and all those like me, are directly linked to it. When I perform magic, I merely tap into that bottomless well of mental power. It requires little effort on my part. With much greater effort, gifted mortals can sometimes do the same, which explains the occasional human sorcerers.”
Jack nodded. It all fit together. One other question disturbed him, though.
“If what you say is true, then where are the rest of these supernatural beings? If all of you are immortal, then the world should be overflowing with mythological creatures.”
Merlin shook his head. “We are immortal but by no means invulnerable. Each of us came into being with our specific strengths and weaknesses. The dreams of mankind define us. Thus, a vampire commands terrible powers but one ray of sunlight turns him into dust. And a werewolf is helpless before silver. Over the course of centuries, many of us sank back into the limbo from which we emerged, killed by the very ones who gave us life.”
Leaning forward, Merlin looked Jack straight in the eye. “Can’t you guess the rest of the answer to your question, my young friend? I am not unique. Thousands of us still survive, living undetected among our creators. As civilization evolved, so did we. We merely changed with the times.”
Again, the magician smiled. “In my youth, I was Merlin the Magician. When people turned their back on sorcery and burned warlocks at the stake, I hid my powers behind the title of doctor and pharmacist. Later, when reason became king, I called my magic science to survive. In this day and age, I predict the rise and fall of stocks and bonds. Megan makes sure my forecasts are not too accurate. No one trusts a forecaster who is always correct. Still, we earn a princely sum each month.
“The others are out there, unnoticed by most, still endowed with their original powers. Like myself they have adapted and changed with the times. Magic fills your daily life, Jack, though most humans never realize it.”
Merlin reached out, and a cup of coffee magically appeared in his hand. He sipped it slowly, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts.
The cynic within Jack’s soul maintained that magic was nonsense and could not exist in a logical world. Unfortunately, that line of reasoning implied that he had slipped over the borders of reality and imagined this whole encounter. And was, therefore, totally nuts.
With a shake of his head. Jack rejected that theory. Ever the pragmatist, he accepted the evidence before him. His parents taught him the necessity of adapting to changing circumstances. Though Jack doubted they envisioned a situation like this, he felt sure they would approve of his reactions.