Robert Weinberg - A Logical Magician

“But Merlin said I was the only one who could save the world,” said Jack defensively. “Right before he was kidnapped he told me that straight out.”

“Then,” said Simon somberly, draining his beer bottle and handing it to Jack, “the world is in deep, deep trouble. Assuming of course that the old geezer hasn’t lost a few screws in this prediction business.”

The changeling’s tone brightened noticeably. “What do you think? Any chance the famous wizard might have bitten off more than he could swallow? Maybe we’re worrying about nothing.”

“I don’t think so,” said Jack. “Merlin struck me as being pretty well grounded. There was no hint of senility in anything he said. Besides, that ignores the supernatural motorcycle gang who grabbed him and Megan.”

“Damn,” said Simon, his expression souring. “I hate when you humans use logic. I much prefer wishing and hoping myself.”

The changeling wandered back to the refrigerator and latched onto another beer. “You’re running low on brew. Better buy some more. You got any chips? Beer always tastes better with chips.”

“Try the cabinet over the sink,” said Jack. All of Simon’s worries had obviously not damaged the changeling’s appetite. “I figure the first thing we should do is search for the kidnappers. They’re our only lead.”

Simon, his mouth full of potato chips, gasped, almost choking. “We?” he managed to sputter out. “Uh, who volunteered me? I’m a poor faerie, not a companion of heroes. Remember the mischievous elf, good-natured trickster, I spoke about? Nothing in that description covers saving the world.”

Jack smiled. “On the other hand, you mentioned that all supernatural beings reflect man’s dual nature—good versus evil. You squarely lined yourself up with the good guys. Well, it’s time to stand up and be counted, my friend. I need your help.”

The changeling groaned. “You’re crazy, Jack. Absolutely, totally crazy. We can’t defeat one of the Old Ones. You have no concept of how powerful those monsters are. He’ll chew us up for an afternoon snack. A small snack at that. I might be on the side of the angels, but I prefer staying alive. And challenging the overwhelming forces of the dark isn’t a way to remain that way.”

“Merlin selected me,” said Jack stubbornly. “That much I understood. He thought I could handle the job, and I fully intend to try. With or without your help.”

Simon pulled a box of cereal out of the cabinet. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help. Just give me a little time to consider my options. In the meantime, I’ll continue thinking you’re nuts. Do you mind if I nibble on this?”

“Go ahead,” said Jack. He frowned. “Don’t they feed you in the dorms?”

“Sure,” said Simon, munching on a handful of frosted corn flakes. “Three meals a day. Normally, I don’t eat anywhere near this much in the cafeteria.”

“Then why,” asked Jack, gritting his teeth, “are you acting tonight as if you haven’t had a bite of food in weeks?”

“Annoying, isn’t it?” replied Simon, grinning. “Which is exactly the reason I do it. I’m only being true to my nature, Jack. If, after a while whenever we’re together, you’re not angry with me, then something’s wrong. My whole purpose for existing is to drive people nuts. Even my friends.”

“Fair enough, I guess,” said Jack, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. Then, as a new thought struck him, he stared directly at the changeling.

“Why don’t we follow that line of reasoning one step further. By your own admission, you know it all . That’s another part of your character. Well, then, I think it’s time for you to share some of your wisdom. Let’s discover how much information you really possess. Like, for example, who or what is this Old One and why are you so terrified of him?”

Simon paused in the midst of crunching a mouthful of cereal. “That’s a good idea,” he said. “Wonder why I never thought of it.”

The changeling swallowed the rest of the flakes. “I’m filled with knowledge. Jack,” he declared. “Not everything in the world, of course, but an awful lot. My mind is like an encyclopedia. Ask me the right question and I’ll provide you with the correct answer. But I can’t extrapolate on pure guesswork. I need to be pointed in the right direction.”

“I understand,” said Jack. “It’s no different than working with a computer. They’re great at retrieving tons of relevant data. But only if you know what you’re looking for. I think I can manage.”

He drew in a deep breath. Maybe now he would get some answers. “Shall we start again with the obvious question? Who or what is this Old One and why is he such a threat to modem civilization?”

The changeling closed his eyes, as if pondering his reply. It took him a few seconds to answer. There was a note of quiet desperation in his voice.

“What Merlin told you about the lifespans of supernatural beings wasn’t absolutely true, Jack,” said Simon, his expression serious. “We don’t grow old and die, nor can we be killed by most conventional methods of murder. However, we all have our weaknesses and vulnerabilities. Even in its dreams, mankind wasn’t foolish enough to make us invulnerable. Except for one tiny segment of our population. The Gods.”

“The Gods,” repeated Jack, beads of sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. “The Gods?”

“Humanity envisioned its own creators as omniscient, omnipotent, and immortal,” continued Simon. “They weren’t supposed to die. That worked fine for the early, small civilizations of prehistory. They rarely encountered other cultures. But think of the problems that arose once empires started forming. Gods, as well as civilizations, clashed.

“Fortunately,” continued Simon, “what man can imagine, he can unimagine. Or consign to limbo. And so it was with the ancient Gods.”

“Huh?” said Jack, totally confused.

“If enough people believed in a supernatural entity, their thoughts brought it to life. Even if all those believers later died, their creation remained. Such was the case with my race, the faeries. Humanity stopped believing in us long ago. Instead, you no longer gave us any thought. So we survived, adapting to the changing world. But that was not the case with the Old Gods.”

“Mankind disbelieved them out of existence,” whispered Jack, the truth unfolding in his mind. “They were destroyed the same way they were created. By pure thought.”

Simon nodded. “Judaism, then Christianity, wiped the Old Ones away. People not only worshipped one God, they firmly rejected the possibility of any other. They denied them. ‘Thou shall have no other God before me,’ the Bible commanded, and so it was. All of Jehovah’s rivals were unimagined out of existence. The ancient Gods disappeared. But disbelief proved to be a lot more complicated than creation.

“The only way to completely vanquish the Old Ones is for no one to believe they exist. No one . Need I remind you how often all humanity has agreed on anything? You can count the times on no fingers. Blame the lunatic fringe. Feeding on their doubts, the earliest Gods of civilization, the pagan, bloodthirsty Gods of prehistory, maintain a tenuous grip on this world. They lurk in the outer dark, waiting for an invitation to return. And, from time to time, some utter fool manages to summon one of them back.”

“How?” asked Jack.

“Beats me,” said Simon. “Who cares? The important fact is that an incredibly powerful supernatural being, one with Godlike powers, has returned to the Earth. And that spells trouble with a capital T.”

“Then this sort of thing has happened before?” asked Jack. “Often?”