Mind Mage - Chapter 1

introducing Amanda Hargove, Magus Vincos, and the game of Mind Mage

      I pinned the last of my basket-braided hair into place and reached for the purple Tudor bonnet. As I settled it onto my head, I was reminded once again of the argument I’d had with Jon Grahame about dress robes for ProGlobal Mages. For some ungodly reason, the head of ProGlobal Sports once had it in his head that we should look like the stereotypical medieval wizards with long-sleeved shapeless dresses and what I call dunce caps. I chuckled to myself as I slid another pin into the little catch in the band of the cap and through a lock of my braid. Just what we would have needed: to look like so many others of the original Corp Mages. Luckily, I won the argument and our robes and caps had the same air of distinction as any graduate of a prestigious university. I surveyed myself in the long mirror on the back of my closet door and remembered the giggles of the first Universal Games audience as the Mages of AstroLab, BetCorp, and more marched into the arena wearing versions of Grahame’s idea of Mage robes. Even Hausmann Inc. had not strayed much from the concept, just simplified the hat to more of a pileus than a dunce cap. When the ProGlobal Mages stepped out in our color-coded academia robes, the applause was deafening. Over the years, most Corps have emulated ProGlobal and redesigned their Mage robes so that now the variety is stunning at Game parades and events.

            I checked over the black gown and its three-quarter sleeves to look for any signs of my cat, Sugar. Her white hairs often miraculously appear after I have done a careful brushing of the gown. I removed one such recalcitrant from the ProGlobal insignia crest over the left breast pocket. With the hem coming to just below my knees, the gown did little to distract from my slightly-on-the-short-side-of-medium height. I’d chosen to wear a tank top and shorts underneath as the day was already warm just an hour after the breakfast hour. Mind you, every important room on The Campus is climate controlled but I preferred my own rooms to be close to external temperatures. I was tempted to slip into my sandals but sighed as I slid my foot into a sensible pump instead. I adjusted the deep purple satin stole which matched my cap and centered my golden Drakos cord on top. I let my fingers ride down the synthetic snakeskin of the cord, enjoying its silkiness and a feeling of pride. A similar cord was wrapped about the band of my cap, ending with a golden tassel that hung over my right ear.

            I stared at my reflection for a minute longer and wondered what the new students actually saw the first time they saw me step to the front of the auditorium. Did they only see my reputation and nothing of me? Did they see the regalia and not the person beneath? Or did they see this old woman dressed up in silly finery who thought she could teach them anything? I had just passed my sixty-first birthday when AstroLab made the anti-aging serum available to the public. I still looked exactly the same as I did then fifty-five years later. My oval face had developed a little sag at the jowls and there were deep lines running from beside my nose and around the sides of my mouth before fading away again at my chin. Laugh lines ran from the outer corners of my eyes to my temples where a few liver spots pretended to be freckles. My grey and dark brown hair had a dyed burgundy streak that showed like a bit of ribbon throughout my normal basket-weave braid. I twisted a lock to make the streak show better under the edge of my cap. “Vainglorious fool,” I scolded myself. But my inner child just stuck her tongue out at the old lady in the mirror.

            The five minute chime on my personal aide device sounded, reminding me that I had to make the walk across the compound quickly. As I headed out of the door to my apartment, I tapped the button to order an elevator to this floor and then hurried to the end of the hall. As I reached the opening door of the lift, I remembered to lock my apartment. The silly chee-irp of my PAD to indicate it had locked my rooms made me grin as I stepped into the elevator. “Surface Level One,” I ordered. My stomach did a flip-flop as I rose through the thirteen levels quickly. The door opened to release me and I squinted until I found my sunglasses and set them in place on the bridge of my nose. I could do the walk from the elevator to the front doors of the living-quarters compound with my eyes closed and in the past had actually done it to avoid the bright sunlight.

            Stepping out onto the Campus as it was called by ProGlobal citizens, always gives me mixed feelings. I have never been a sun worshipper and the Campus had been designed for those who loved the sun. But all that aside, I loved the beauty of the ProGlobal Enterprises Central Headquarters. Most of the buildings were coated in a stucco that had quartz and amethyst crystals as the aggregate, making the edifices gleam and sparkle. Even more exceptional was the main headquarters office building, formally known as Grahame Tower, which was finished in a mosaic mural done with expensive gems and minerals. I glanced quickly at the artwork depicting the rise of the Grahames from telegraph designers through the changing years of communications to the pinnacle of the building where the very first inter-solar satellite rested. Its tasks, out near the dwarf planet Pluto, had ceased about a decade ago and were now being done by a much more complex satellite on the ProGlobal Solis Rim Workstation. Now, there was a place I missed with its quiet and dark skies. I had been a professor at the small college out there for thirty years.

            My PAD beeped again and I looked at the device’s screen to see Kalos Kellen Dorsey’s beaming smile. “Are you running late, Vincos Hargrove? I can get them settled if you want.”

            “Would you, please, Kellen? I’m just passing Head Fountain.”

            Head Fountain. Now there is a regular chuckle that never grew old. Back in the Twentieth Century, there had been an author who penned a book warning about corporate corruption titled The Fountainhead. Then ProGlobal had built their ostentatious headquarters with a huge fountain center front of Grahame Tower. However, this fountain has no typical angels pouring water or some similar traditional bowl basin fountain design; its main feature is a giant head made of shrubbery with water flowing out from between its lips. Its eyes are large solar panels that power the pumps and keep the water warm in the winter. The back of the head is a beautiful garden for most of the year. The proper title for the work done by a then-famous architect and artist is “The Flow of Life Fountain”. However, it wasn’t long before everyone was calling it Head Fountain, grinning at the implied reference to the novel.

            I pulled open the side doors of Hargrove Hall (don’t ask) and dashed to the elevator just down the hall. I was trying to avoid anyone questioning my lateness. As I slipped into the waiting liftbox, I was greeted by a half-mocking, “It’s always a surprise to see someone who hates bright sunlight out admiring the campus on a day like today.”

“Surface Level Three,” I commanded to the door and then turned to face the voice, looking for gender clues. The chiseled face had only a hint of makeup and the jet-black hair was pulled sternly into a bun at the nape of the neck. While both ears had multiple piercings, only one sported a collection of small colored dots. “Good morning yourself, Yo-Yo.” I used the affectionate form of the Kalos’ personal Mage name. For eons, mages had used a second secret name for themselves believing, rightfully so, that knowledge of the true name gave another wizard or energy-worker power over you. Now, with the formation of the Consortium of Mind Mages, anyone with high enough access level could know a Mage’s personal name so most of us used some type of shortened form or nickname to deflect the importance of the real name. My own personal name was actually Burgundy Dragon but my close colleagues called me Burdra.

      The elevator’s quick rise did not allow for further conversation so I gave Yosef a quick nod, knowing that he was heading only one level higher. I hurried to the small auditorium often used for the two-week Introduction to Magus Electos Training. The door was already closed and I could hear Kellen’s booming tones from behind it. Through the window I could make out about twenty or so candidates for the ProGlobal Mind Mage Team. Not a bad number these days but nothing like the early days of the Game when we numbered as many as sixty or seventy in a class as natural mages and energy-workers stepped into the limelight in order to gain honor and status within the Corp.

            I gave a quick rap on the small window and caught his attention. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Kellen was using his best carnival barker voice to capture every ear and eye in the room. “May I introduce the illustrious Vincos Amanda Hargrove, Magus Drakos?” I pushed open the door while wincing at Kellen’s choice of the word ‘illustrious’. I really hate superlatives in reference to me. I gave him my honest thank-you smile and turned to the room of chartreuse green caps. “I think Kalos Dorsey meant to say industrious, since I will be working you very hard today. Those of you who have ever worked a factory or workhouse job will know what I mean; the rest of you will know by tonight.”

            “First off, let me reintroduce myself. I am Amanda Hargrove, Magus Vincos, Magus Drakos. You will refer to me as Vincos Hargrove, or simply Vincos. Likewise, Kalos Dorsey will be addressed as such.” I nodded in Kellen’s direction. I strongly believed that Tiros and Electos should never be allowed any familiarity. Turning back to the small audience, I continued, “I have walked the Dream Plains since before I was nine and suffice it to say that was a very, very long time ago.” I spotted a young strawberry blonde woman turn to her neighbor and pretend to stifle a giggle. Strike One, Sweetie, I thought to myself. “I was one of the original Alpha-Tester Mages when Miracle Mage wove energy-work and mage skills into the Game. I have been bested by some of the greatest Mages and in turn, I have beaten other great Mages. I have watched familiars of great Mages die from their wounds and I have seen great Mages lose their minds. Let me remind you now that you are nowhere near being considered a potentially good Mage, let alone a great one. If you think this is going to be all fun and glory, you had better pack up your things and walk out of this room, for good, right now.” I paused for dramatic effect and scanned the room to see who was not watching me. Every eye was glued to me and some faces actually grimaced. “Good. Now let’s get on with it. The only reason you are here is because you managed to pass the Tiros Test plus create some semblance of a hideaway on the Dream Plains. Many years ago, that was a lesson taught to small children who showed even the slightest talent for energy-work. So don’t let your sophomoric accomplishment be a source of pride.

            “I see that some of you had the same initiators but a couple of you are mostly self-taught. Every teacher reveals the path to the Dream Plains in their own way. Some might have walked you down the side of a mountain, some rowed you down a rushing river, some walked through a forest or a glade, and some even had you jumping from cloud to cloud.” Miss Giggles did her little act again. Strike Two. Do it again, I mentally dared her. “You are welcome to use whatever method you find comfortable. Now, first listen to my next instructions, and then pull your interfaces out of the drawer of your desk.” I waited for the usual drawers to open. “Okay, what part of ‘listen first’ did you not understand?” It is petty of me, I know, but I can’t help pulling that one every time. However, my next statement was all too true. “You cannot survive as a Mage if you tend to jump ahead, or assume you know what’s coming, or refuse to stop and gauge the situation. You may have heard the axiom ‘cleanliness is next to godliness’? Well, learn this one: ‘recklessness is next to mindlessness’.

            “Now, once you have put on your interface, I want you to use whatever method you choose to get onto the Dream Plains. Once you are there, go directly to your demesne. I don’t care what term your teachers used. I will refer to it as your demesne. A turris actually refers to a fortress with turrets or to a very tall tower, which you may or may not have. And a home base is a baseball malaphor. A demesne on the other hand is a piece of property that has one rightful owner and thus can look like anything you choose. I know some of you have been required to build an actual fortress or stronghold of some kind. That is not necessary, and at a later point, you can rebuild if you so choose. A well-protected cave or cabin will serve as much purpose as a showy building. Go directly to your demesne and start by checking your shields on the property you claimed. Reinforce, if you feel the need to do so. The time you are being given is plenty for that task. Then, go to the highest place on your stronghold where you can see in every direction. I don’t care if you have to climb a tree. I want you to rest there, carefully searching the horizons to see if you can spot a red-purple beacon. When you see the beacon, turn your body fully to face it, concentrate on making a connection with the light, and stay there until someone indicates for you to return to the Here and Now. Does everyone understand the directions?”

            A couple of hands flew into the air. I sighed because I already knew what at least one of them wanted to ask. “What exactly are we trying to accomplish?” There it was. I had a moment of arguing in my head. That is the fun of having so many familiars; they are never all out of your mind. Tell them: NOYB. Say: learning to fly. Tell them: … Shush, I whispered in my head. Aloud, I continued to address the students. “You are trying to find a specific beacon and align with it.” I paused a moment knowing I would hear the next standard question. “What if we can’t find the beacon?” I gave the man with his green cap sitting jauntily over his left ear a sly grin. “We will deal with that if it happens, when it happens, but it could mean missing lunch hour.” I looked to see if anyone else was going to ask about the assignment and then reviewed the instructions. “You have fifteen minutes of Real Time to get to the top of your building so do not hurry your way down the path or forget to check your defenses. Now, put on your interface.”

      I stepped back from the podium, watching the new Electos secure their headpieces. Somebody really needs to design a better looking interface, I thought. The students looked like experiment subjects in a very old, B-grade, evil-scientist movie crossed with old-style jet fighter pilots. Each student now wore a metallic helmet with three small stubby antennae just above what had been their soft spot at birth. The helmet completely covered the skull and ears plus it had a thick plastiglass screen that dropped down in front of the eyes and nose. The inside of the helmet was completely lined with sensors that read all brain activity, concentrating on the pineal gland specifically. The information received was then transmitted into The Grid. Any, and supposedly all, Dream Plain and Other Worlds activity was monitored by the Consortium of Mind Mages as well as sponsoring corporations, if they chose to do so. The COMM, also known as the Consortium, maintained the Grid, giving access to the corporations on an ‘as needed’ basis. ProGlobal had a standing agreement with COMM that any and all Grid work done by their citizens would be recorded, but in fact only formal challenges, competitions, and training sessions were logged. The competitive Mind Mage players were an honored part of ProGlobal Sports but hardly the only sport that brought prestige to the Corp. It also helped that ProGlo was a Forbic corporation and one of the elite ten that literally ruled the world.

      I turned to Kellen who had taken a seat to one side of the small stage and signaled that he should follow me. We headed for a door mostly hidden by the large screen at the front of the room. The sign read ‘PGS IT Staff ONLY �" door is to be kept locked at all times’, but we let ourselves in. The hidden room had one wall covered in video monitors above a table of computer consoles. To the other side of the room were four interface stations complete with the most comfortable lounge chairs ProGlo could provide.  A small tinted window looked back into the auditorium. At two of the computer stations on the curved desk were the familiar figures of my two favorite information technicians.

      “Bobby! Mike! Great to see the two best Peegee geeks at the helm.”

      The identical twins spun their chairs in unison. Their body builds and facial features were not the only similarity between them; they often did or said the exact same thing at precisely the same time. As children their tendency for synchronicity brought them to the attention of psychologists. The scientific study of the two youngsters had provided them with access to computers while still toddlers. Early on, both boys had shown beyond genius intelligence and a very strong aptitude for mathematics, music, and mage skills. Despite showing exceptional proficiency as mages, they had both chosen to become IT techs, following the example of Miracle. As soon as they had graduated from ProGlobal Central Tech, PG Sports had snapped them up to maintain a statistical analysis of the whole Corp sports program. If you wanted to know any minutiae about any given sport in the known universe, chances were that they could spout the answer from either their own minds or find the information in no time at all. The two faces beamed as they both leapt from their chairs to give me a four-armed bear hug. Sometimes it was easy to forget that they were only sixteen.

      “Missed you boys too.”  I had been the one to administer their mage skills tests shortly after their ninth birthday and we had been friends ever since. “So, I guess I don’t need to remind you to set the Spirograph from my tower and log in your findings immediately.” I winced as both sent a cynical “Really?” into my head. I held my hands up, palms toward them. “Whoa, boys. Just a joke. No need to shout.” Kellen gave me a quizzical look. “Oh nice, and you only shouted in my head. Gee, thanks.”

      Kellen grinned, figuring out what had happened.  “Yes, thanks, guys. I appreciate the consideration. So, how are we doing?” He leaned in toward the bank of monitors.

      Mike and Bobby returned to their chairs and started clicking on their keyboards. I noticed that one of their royal blue Mage robes had fallen carelessly onto the floor. I sighed as I collected both and hung them on the back of the door. Turning back I saw that the bank of monitors had become one screen, showing the map of the Dream Plains with my demesne just below and left of the center as a red-purple flashing dot. That was the beacon the students would be trying to find. A soft gray line spun in a geometric pattern out from my place swinging in arcs like the popular child’s toy from the twentieth century, thus the nickname, Spirograph, for the Gamescape Localized Mage Activity Detector. It acted somewhat like radar to find even the faintest mage activity. The one we were using was designed to tap into the omnipresent monitoring system used by CoMM but to concentrate on weak signatures and then define the acquired positions in relation to my tower. I settled into a lounge chair and pulled on an interface helmet.