The Plastic Magician by Holmberg Charlie N

Author:Holmberg, Charlie N. [Holmberg, Charlie N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503951778
Amazon: 1503951774
Publisher: 47North
Published: 2018-05-15T06:00:00+00:00

Alvie studied in her bedroom that night, wanting something more comfortable and lazy, and it was also getting dreadfully cold outside, especially after sunset. It was a short walk between the polymery and the house, but a chilly one.

She sat on her too-big bed with a pair of her half boots in front of her. She’d affixed plastic aglets to the laces, little more than narrow tubes. Practicing the spell Mg. Praff had taught her, she said, “Heed: Pattern,” to one of the shoes, then went on to tie the laces, this time in a double knot. When she had finished, she said, “Cease.”

She untied the shoe and set it before her. “Heed: Direction.”

To her delight, the shoe tied itself. This was the seventh time she’d done the spell with shoelaces, but it still fascinated her. Why, she wouldn’t need to bend over to tie her laces ever again! Perhaps that would lead to less tripping in her future. And corsets! Perhaps Alvie could invest some magic into that industry . . .

After enchanting the second half boot, Alvie slid off her bed and sat on the floor. She’d collected a few plastic things—a wheel she’d made earlier, a hanger from the closet, a boat of Mg. Praff’s making, and a simple sheet of plastic. She lined them up, making sure her hands touched each one, and said, “Propel.”

All the items moved forward at once, as though racing against one another. The wheel went the fastest, rolling across the carpet until it hit the wall beneath the window. Then the boat, then the hanger. The piece of unformed plastic dawdled behind. She called out, “Cease,” and all four items stopped at once, lifeless. It made sense that the wheel and the boat, which had propellers, had gone the farthest with the forward-projection spell. Minimal friction. The hanger had less surface area against the floor than the piece of unformed plastic, which was undoubtedly why it had moved more swiftly.

A knock sounded at the door. Alvie stood and began gathering her collection. “Come in.”

Mg. Praff opened the door. “What have we here? It’s nine thirty, and Alvie is actually in the house?”

“Might occur more often once it starts snowing.” Though she’d heard Ohio got a great deal more snow than London did.

“I won’t interrupt too long, but I thought you’d like to know that the abstract was accepted at the Discovery Convention.” He held up two paper-clipped sheets.

“Really? That’s excellent!” Not that Alvie had ever doubted they’d be accepted. She went to the door and took the papers from her mentor. At the front was a short telegraph announcing the acceptance. The abstract was only a page long, but it was all the convention required to judge whether a project would be accepted; the full paper would be written later. She studied the cover page and its delicate typeface. “The Use of a Newfound Pressurizing Spell in the Movement of Prosthetic Limbs,” it read. Beneath the title, in smaller type, was, “By Magician Marion Praff and Alvie Brechenmacher.

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