Michael Scott - The Magician

When he left the bedroom, he stopped at the door to his sister’s room and looked inside. The smell of lavender was so strong it made his eyes water. Sophie lay unmoving on the bed, her breathing regular and even. Joan remained beside her, holding her hand, murmuring softly, but not in any language he could understand. The woman turned her head slowly to look at him, and he discovered that her eyes were once again flat silver discs, without any hint of white or pupil. She turned back to Sophie.

Josh stared at them for a moment before turning away. When the Witch of Endor had instructed Sophie in the Magic of Air, he had been dismissed; now he’d been dismissed again. He was quickly realizing that in this new magical world, there was no place for someone like him, someone without power.

Josh slowly climbed the narrow winding stairs that led up to Saint-Germain’s office. Whatever Josh had been expecting to find in the attic, it was not the huge brightly lit white wood and chrome room. The attic ran the length of the entire house and had been remodeled into one vast open space, with an arched window looking over the Champs-Elysees at one end. The enormous room was filled with electronics and musical instruments, but there was no sign of Saint-Germain.

Against the right wall, a long table stretched from one end of the space to the other. It was piled high with computers, both desktops and laptops, screens of all shapes and sizes, synthesizers, a mixing desk, keyboards and electronic drum kits.

On the opposite side of the room a trio of electric guitars were perched on stands, while an assortment of keyboards were arranged around an enormous LCD screen.

“How do you feel?” Saint-Germain asked.

It took Josh a second to identify where the voice was coming from. The musician was lying flat on his back under the table, a bundle of USB cables in his hands. “Good,” Josh said, and was surprised to find that it was true. He felt better than he had in a long time. “I don’t even remember lying down…”

“You were both exhausted, physically and mentally. And I understand the leygates suck every last drop of energy from you. Not that I’ve ever traveled through one,” he added. “To be truthful, I was surprised you were still on your feet,” Saint-Germain muttered as he dropped the cables. “You’ve slept for about fourteen hours.”

Josh knelt alongside Saint-Germain. “What are you trying to do?”

“I moved a monitor and the cable fell out; I’m not sure which one it is.”

“You should color code them with tape,” Josh said. “That’s what I do.” Straightening, he caught the end of the cable that was attached to the wide-screen monitor and jerked it up and down. “It’s this one.” The cable twitched in Saint-Germain’s hands.

“Thanks!”

The monitor suddenly flickered to life, displaying a screen filled with sliders and knobs.

Saint-Germain climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. He was wearing clothes identical to Josh’s. “They fit.” He nodded. “And they look good on you. You should wear black more often.”

“Thanks for the clothes…” He stopped. “I don’t know how we’re going to be able to pay you back, though.”

Francis laughed quickly. “They weren’t a loan, they were a gift. I don’t want them back.”

Before Josh could thank him again, Saint-Germain hit the keyboard and Josh jumped as a series of heavy piano chords thumped out from hidden speakers. “Don’t worry, the attic is soundproofed,” Saint-Germain said. “It’ll not wake Sophie.”

Josh nodded at the screen. “Do you write all your music on computer?”

“Just about.” Saint-Germain looked around the room. “Anyone can make music now; you don’t need much more than a computer, some software, patience and a lot of imagination. If I need some real instruments for a final mix, I’ll hire musicians. But I can do most things here.”

“I downloaded some beat-detection software once,” Josh admitted. “But I could never get it right.”

“What do you compose?”

“Well, I’m not sure you’d call it composing… I put together some ambient mixes.”

“I’d love to listen to anything you have.”

“It’s all gone. I lost my computer, my cell phone and my iPod when Yggdrasill was destroyed.” Even saying it aloud made him feel sick. And the worst part was that he really had no idea exactly what he’d lost. “I lost my summer project and all my music, and that was about ninety gigs. I had some great bootlegs. I’ll never be able to replace them.” He sighed. “I also lost hundreds of photos; all the places Mom and Dad took us. Our parents are scientists-they’re archaeologists and paleontologists,” he added, “so we’ve seen some amazing places.”

“Lost everything! That’s got to be tough,” Saint-Germain sympathized. “What about backups?”

The stricken look on Josh’s face was all the answer the count needed.

“Were you a Mac or a PC user?”

“Both, actually. Dad uses PCs at home, but most of the schools Sophie and I have gone to use Macs. Sophie loves her Macs, but I prefer a PC,” he said. “If anything goes wrong, I can usually pull it apart and fix it myself.”

Saint-Germain walked to the end of the table and rummaged around underneath it. He pulled out three laptops, different brands and screen sizes, and lined them up on the floor. He gestured dramatically. “Take one.”

Josh blinked at him in surprise. “Take one?”

“They’re all PCs,” Saint-Germain continued, “and they’re no use to me. I’ve completely switched over to Macs now.”

Josh looked from Saint-Germain to the laptops and back to the musician again. He’d just met this man, didn’t know him, and here he was offering Josh a choice of three expensive laptops. He shook his head. “Thanks, but I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Saint-Germain demanded.

And Josh had no answer for that.

“You need a computer. I’m offering you one of these. I would be pleased if you took it.” Saint-Germain smiled. “I grew up in an age when gift giving was an art. I have found that people in this century really do not know how to accept a gift gracefully.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“How about thank you?” Saint-Germain suggested.

Josh grinned. “Yes. Well…thank you,” he said hesitantly. “Thank you very much.” Even as he was speaking, he knew which machine he wanted: the tiny one-inch-thick laptop with an eleven-inch screen.

Saint-Germain dug around under the table and extracted three power cords that he dropped onto the floor alongside the machines. “I’m not using them. They’ll probably never be used again. I’ll end up reformatting the hard drives and giving the machines to the local schools. Take whichever one you like. You’ll find a backpack under the table too.” He paused, blue eyes twinkling, and tapped the back of the machine Josh was looking at, then added with a grin, “I’ve a spare long-life battery for this one. That was my favorite.”

“Well, if you’re really not using them…”

Saint-Germain ran a finger across the back of the small laptop, tracing a line in the dust, holding it up so that Josh could see the black mark on his fingertip. “Trust me: I’m not using them.”

“OK…thanks. I mean, thank you. No one’s ever given me a present like this before,” he said, picking up the small computer and turning it over in his hands. “I’ll take this one…if you’re really sure…”

“I’m sure. It’s fully loaded; got wireless, too, and it’ll autoconvert the power for European and American current. Plus, it’s got all my albums on it,” Saint-Germain said, “so you can start your music collection again. You’ll also find an mpeg of the last concert. Check it out; it’s really good.”