CHAPTER 2: LAW OF ATTENTION
"World views have inertia."
May 20th, 1985—Tom's POV
Tom Swale continued to smile congenially as he saw Nita, Kit, and "Fred" to the door, yet as soon as the door clicked shut behind them he let that smile falter, then vanish with a heavy sigh.
He suddenly felt very tired.
He took in a deep breath, there are no coincidences.
And released it, there are no mistakes.
Tom grimaced. He knew this better than most.
He knew by now how to spot those twists of fate and he knew this was no fluke.
As Peach had already pointed out, their coming here was no accident...
Being the Area Advisory for the New York Metropolitan Area, as well as most of the greater East Coast, the fact that Nita and Kit lived so close bothered him more than it should.
And it wasn't as though the Universe hadn't given him any warning either...
Earlier today he had been speaking with Rosie Lesser, the weekend librarian, with whom he was planning a fundraiser book drive. He'd be autographing and reading a few excerpts from one of his novels for the library.
Librarians didn't miss much and they usually knew much more than they let on. Since quite a few of the best Wizards were bookworms and it was almost a tradition to find Manuals in the library, being a librarian was the ideal day job for the practicing Wizard interested in helping the next generation.
She had told him to expect some new talent, and then went on to explain that a Manual had chosen a girl—or rather a girl had chosen a Manual—and that she anticipated much promise from this young lady:
"Nita Callahan has been coming in as long as I can remember, Tom, I swear to you she's read every book here! I knew it was just a matter of time…"
Tom saw dozens of new Wizards every month, what seemed like hundreds per year, all heading out on their Ordeals and first interventions...
He'd been doing this for years now—had known exactly what he was getting into when he took the Advisory's Oath—and in reality no, he didn't regret it. He just had the sinking feeling he was going to very soon.
Why is this troubling me so much?
He closed his eyes, trying to recall exactly what the Manual had to say on the subject of Area Supervision.
Under any other Wizardly specialty, and in any other part of this Manual, one would receive straightforward, concise, and unambiguous instructions on how to function within the job assignment...
Only when Advising do none of the above apply.
And that was that. There were no absolute answers for this job—just the time-tried conviction that it was worth it.
That these were kids he knew though, having idly spotted either one or the other when walking Annie and Monty past the schoolyard, even if he hadn't known their names before today...
It suddenly mattered.
They mattered.
But then again, they always mattered...
There are certainly rules and regulations that are relevant, and must at all times be adhered to, but most carefully emphasized in this chapter is: 'keep a professional distance.'
That was much easier said than done.
Suddenly he could remember every conversation he ever had with Betty Callahan; asking nonchalantly how her daughters were doing, always getting such enthusiastic responses in turn. What would she think of this—her daughter, a Wizard?
And that The Book of Night with Moon was involved...
So much is reliant upon both the Advisories performing their duties and the advisees seeking that help fulfilling theirs...
Of the novice Wizards sent to him, he'd made an attempt not to learn too much too soon about them. He didn't want to know more than was necessary, at first, in case they...
It is never a question about caring—because Wizards, being servants of Life, always care...
He didn't want to know.
It's about how to best serve your purpose, constructively channeling the compassion, curving the empathy one might feel for a certain individual or their situation...
He wanted to stay as methodical and detached as possible, preserving his sanity in the process.
That was all.
But this wasn't the job of mainstream psychologists and doctors. He couldn't make referrals to others. He couldn't prescribe answers. There was no way of keeping a professional distance simply because there was no distance. And there couldn't be! This was their planet and they all had to work together to protect it.
And if he ever thought too much like that, the Powers That Be shoved one of these extra personal cases square into his lap, as if to remind him...
That yes, he did care.
Very much.
And there was no way he couldn't.
While Wizardly principles were founded on unity there was no way he could be distant and isolated. While everything remained linked, how could he not be wholly invested in the protection of Life and its principles? Emotionally, physically, and spiritually—giving up mind and body if necessary?
And whenever he lost one to an Ordeal, how could he not wish it had been him instead?
He knew that when he stopped caring, that would be the end of it—of advising and Wizardry for him.
And no matter what, he didn't want that.
The Powers That Be are Themselves at odds on the issue of 'Power Play' and 'Interference.' Once upon a time, a Wizard might have received a helping hand from Ra or Thor or Athena—or some other higher or lower deity—and thought nothing of it, but no more.
Now the scales have turned—though when and where and for what exact reason this has occurred, no one's sure—but The Powers That Be are currently against too much assistance being given to Wizards of any ranking. Thus is preserved the freeness of will.
"You really are Wizards!"
Nita and Kit though, he knew he couldn't really treat them the same—no differently than the others, but not the same either.
And so, as Advisory Wizards, you are presented with a dilemma: a choice of how to best handle the job.
He had to keep his distance, he'd certainly try, but he knew he couldn't—and he knew instinctively that Carl wouldn't be able to either.
Assuming, of course, they passed their Ordeal...
Keep in mind that novice Wizards have the right to determine their own destinies and live their lives the way they choose, so long as they are properly informed of any and all consequences of that choosing.
And, if they didn't, what would he say to Betty Callahan the next time he saw her at a fundraising function?
No one is to determine this or any other course of action for them.
How could he look Harry Callahan in the eye again when he went to buy flower seeds?
They must understand and hold true to the duty to Life stated within the Oath. That is the Advisory's singular obligation. These young Wizards must know all that that duty entails...
The Book of Night with Moon—he had told the truth, he had no wish to read from it.
Benefaction and helping these young Wizards is the primary goal.
Advisories, take problems on a case-by-case basis. Take comfort in your achievements and sorrow in the failures—though on these do not dwell too long, for there are always those in need of your guidance.
Stay in the present.
And most importantly feel.
Remember your responsibility. To remind that no one is alone in this!
And that you and they are what make Wizardry, and Life, possible.
Someone barked at him, startling him out of his reverie.
Tom made sure to regain his composure, smile firmly back in place—though admittedly a touch grimmer—before turning to face his family.
His wasn't a "normal" family in the "traditional" sense, and he liked that just fine.
Instead it consisted of a scarlet and gold macaw, a fortuneteller and purveyor of unconventional wisdom, named Machu Picchu—Peach for short. Two English Sheepdogs, Annie and Monty, and a bouncy Rat Terrier, Dudley, who were all very good at finding things. And a pond full of Koi who would just as soon spout out prophecies as any haiku.
And then of course, there was his Wizarding partner and best friend, Carl Romeo, who had once again disappeared under the sink in the quest to reclaim all the tools that had fallen in his efforts at plumbing. Carl and Tom shared in the philosophy that it wasn't necessary to use magic for everyday tasks. After all, there could be plenty of enjoyment in just living Life, no Wizardry required.
Tom started, realizing there was a sudden increase in dampness and pressure near his pants' legging. He glanced down curiously to find Annie leaning against him, panting hard and smiling up at him proudly. He gave her a pat.
"And just where have you been?" She looked at him innocently. Tom rolled his eyes; with his dogs there were never any simple answers. And sometimes it was better not to ask.
"You did well today, Annie," Tom said to her; getting down on one-knee to rub behind floppy ears in the good spot. He didn't bother using the Speech with her or any of their pets; they understood him just fine.
The ear-massage triggered a chain reaction: first her tail started to wag back and forth, then tremors traveled up and down her whole body caused her to writhe and squirm, finally the repeated thump-thump-thumping of a 'bunny foot' sent her sprawling to the floor, begging for a more centralized belly-rub and something more—Milk Bones?
The question wasn't verbal—or rather just verbal—it came from her body language too: her pleading eyes, her tail swishing side to side, and her paw pressed firmly against his shoulder.
Tom just continued to beam tolerantly.
She heaved a doggy-sigh resignedly and rolled to lie on her side, tongue lolling out as she panted in New York's muggy heat. After a while, she stretched, extending four paws to their fullest. She half-growled/groaned in lazy pleasure:
They needed to see you and you needed to see them.
Tom reluctantly lowered himself to the floor beside her, this time cautiously using the Speech, "You knew The Book of Night with Moon was missing?" He asked with some trepidation; the last thing they needed was another oracle in the household...
Annie sneezed—a dog's version of a laugh: Dogs don't read, remember? At least, not like you do... In Cyene it's simply 'The Howlings' and I haven't heard it in a while, come to think of it. I don't know anything about that. Well, no more than what my packs' alpha Wizards say I need to... She observed him good-naturedly under one bushy eyebrow, but as the bird says, you four were destined to meet.
At nearly four years of age she was still a bit young in dog years, yet there were times when the Ancient Wisdom that passed through all generations of dogs shone brightly in her gold-flecked eyes.
This was such a time.
Groaning, Tom rose and dusted himself off.
Annie stood too, hearing her two brothers' yapping outside along with a chipmunk's angry chatter. With the excitement of an awaiting Chase coursing through her, Annie quivered and looked to Tom for permission to join in.
He grinned at her, nodding towards the commotion, "Go show them how it's done."
"And close the door behind ya!" hollered a familiar disgruntled voice, the source of which was being dribbled on by various cleaning solutions. "This is hard enough to do without distractions..." Carl mumbled, deceivingly gruff.
Tom complied for Annie before strolling back into the kitchen/dining room to pick up the empty cans of soda. He paused when he reached where his and Carl's Manuals still lay open from the afternoon's use.
The Manuals themselves, as they were often wont to do, had opened to a page of their own accord and now beckoned to him. As Tom grabbed them and made to sit in a wicker chair, snippets of the day's conversation played back through his mind, in what he had come to recognize as his intuition relating to him that they were relevant: The Book Of Night With Moon... Nita Callahan and Kit Rodriguez... Regional advisories meeting... Connected how...?
It turns out he didn't need to look up anything in the Manual; he just needed to glance down.
Tom never actually managed to seat himself; instead he remained hovering over their respective Manuals. Frozen in place, his jaw dropped and his head swam. Later, he would have sworn he'd blacked out briefly.
Recovering slowly, still numb from the shock, he sank into the chair, and frantically started flipping through the ruffled pages, unwilling to believe what his eyes were telling him.
Until he read the line, that is, that made it all too real.
And that's when the world came crashing down around him.
Present Day—Tom's POV
"You tell the rest, because that's as much as I know for that day. Sorry," Tom added to his partner as Carl returned with two coffees in hand.
Carl sat down resignedly.
Past—Carl's POV
Carl had taken a breather from the grimy world of pipes and valves, both of which relentlessly detest at not working properly and consequently blame each other for it. The disharmony in this world got to him sometimes—and it was at those times Carl looked to Tom.
He had watched all of Tom's subsequent actions and reactions—from his widening eyes, to the creases that wrinkled his forehead when he frowned hard in thought. Up to and including when he grabbed their Manuals simultaneously and hastily started flipping through them both. And before Carl could ask for a why to the strange behavior, Tom visibly stiffened and started shaking.
That was all the encouragement Carl needed to cross the room and place a hand on Tom's left shoulder.
"Hey, what's...?" He forgot what he was going to say. Staring up at him, at the beginning pages of both their Manuals, in identical bold enthusiastic lettering, there read:
Greetings and Congratulations, welcome to your newest status as Senior Wizards!
Carl gasped.
Like Tom, he hadn't spotted it at first.
He had his suspicions though. All the while he was beginning to celebrate, a tiny voice in the back of his head nagged him: at what price?
Carl chose to ignore it for the moment.
"Aha!" he exclaimed, slapping his partner heartily on the back, "Tom, this is wonderful! Just look at this, well-deserved promotions for the both of us—all that hard work paid off, we're finally being noticed!"
That little voice troubling his mind chimed in again, by whom? Only it wasn't the same little voice as before, it was Tom's. Are you sure we want to be?
He was about to wave this off too with promises of a retreat to Bermuda or the Greek Isles or that little planet Iliasis off Altair, but then he caught sight of the man himself.
"What do you mean? Tom, what's wrong?"
Tom, head hidden in his arms, was shivering with nerves. The hand Carl had clasped on Tom's shoulder became a conduit for his panic. Tom didn't open his eyes, but he sat up and—as if fearing Carl would pull away from the force of his emotions—both of his hands alighted on Carl's one and squeezed hard, leaning back in against him for support. Carl was then able to catch a glimpse of Tom's troubled expression and the following:
As with any promotion, there is an Ordeal to pass, to make certain you are the right Wizard for the job. As a Senior you will be highly depended upon and, as more and more knowledge becomes known to you, the peril to your Life will increase exponentially. As a result, so will the power available to you. As a Senior, you will not specialize too seriously in one aspect of Wizardry, but in all aspects of it, and thus—
Nothing too bad at first—mostly precautions and forewarning, along with preliminary suggestions for determining aptitude—but he kept on reading and soon enough, there it was: the source of Tom's fear in one line…
Naturally, your Ordeal for becoming a Senior Wizard will be based off the Ordeal you initially passed to become a Wizard…
Carl fell to his knees next to Tom's chair.
"We'll tell them no," Carl murmured, reassuring himself as much as Tom. "They can't force us to be Seniors. Power doesn't live in the unwilling heart, remember? And we are unwilling..."
"They need us to be willing though," Tom cut him off remorsefully. "Kit and Nita, The Book of Night with Moon, if they need our help, if they can't handle it... We're not on the level to do anything. We're needed, Carl. If not at this moment, then soon—very soon—and knowing what's at stake, how can we say no?"
"Like this: 'no, no, no, NO!'"
Carl remembered hearing Tom's earlier words from the other room, "But this isn't anything you two need to worry about. The Advisories and the Senior Wizards will handle it."
He had no idea then those words would become a prophecy.
"You never told me," Carl whispered, "You never told me about our Ordeal and I never asked, even though I can't remember a damn thing. You were always so scared though… So I'm asking now: Tom, what's going to happen?"
He looked to his partner who had raised his head at the words.
There was a sudden shift in reality.
Tom, feeling it, smiled sadly. "Looks like you'll find out soon enough..."
Another shift.
"I'll find out what?"
"Just remember why I did what I did..."
Another shift.
"Don't forget me Carl."
"How could I ever...? Tom? Tom! What's going on?!"
Another shift.
"Just remember, Carl, that I..."
Carl blinked and Tom was gone.
And so was his Wizardry.
Present Day—Carl's POV
"Wait," Nita interrupted. "What do you mean by 'gone'? Gone as in... dead?"
Carl sighed, rubbing at his temples. "No Nita. Gone as in gone. Not in this world, or any other for the matter. He wasn't dead, how could he be if he never existed at all? You must understand that in that moment everyone forgot about him, because there wasn't anything to remember.
"And as for losing my Wizardry, I barely noticed it drain away. All I cared about at that time was that I could no longer feel Tom. It soon became apparent though that I wasn't the only one who had lost something. In a frenzy, I contacted all the Wizards I knew. How I still knew them, or anything about Wizardry, was an act of the One. Everyone who picked up the other line immediately said I was crazy after I told them my story and swore if I ever called them again they'd call the police. Apparently, loss of Wizardry wasn't affecting just me..."