The Blue Scene Manual - Introduction to Anomalies

  Though magic is in the air all around us humans, the most talented magicians are often structures. It is for this reason that the Manual advises that your Sympathy manifest as an inorganic material.

  At times, a building with mystical power acts as a locus of magical potential beyond what a fleshly body could sustain. It takes on organic characteristics, warping physicality in a way that often—but not always—correlates with its digestible essence. It may come to resemble an animal, or even a man. These beings are known as Anomalies, and they hide in existing structures until a mage finds them.

  Sympathy is necessary to subdue Anomalies. By summoning Sympathy within the center of the Anomaly and initiating a Sympathy clash—a contest between magical manifestations—you will generate a dreamlike arena that stands between the nature of yourself and of the Anomaly. Both of you will find advantageous terrain in this arena.

  Anomalies are rare. One is born roughly every few months in a 500 square mile radius. If transport is unreliable, you will be statistically unlikely to acquire one for several years.

  After reaching the Earthly Milestone, wherein you can reliably manifest your Sympathy, absorb your first Anomaly. Only one can be nonlethally imbibed until the Impossible Milestone, wherein your Sympathy manages to break the laws of physical reality. This is a long way out for any but talents forged in fire.

  For these reasons, selecting an ideal Anomaly to synergize with is essential…

  “You are not supposed to be here!” she emphasized, pointing a finger at Milo.

  Panic fluttered across his face before he could conceal it. Milo reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope. “I used to help out here! I’m just bringing a birthday card to the manager!”

  The employee wore maroon slacks and a matching double-breasted suit. Her stance was active, her limbs gangly. Milo thought she looked like a willow bending in on itself. “Nobody likes Ted though. He’s a nepo baby who fired some guy for panic attacks. Still, that might’ve convinced me you just had bad taste if I didn’t see you falling out of a rift in space. Hey, is this break room more cramped now?” She began to pace back and forth between the door and farthest wall, which was now spatially correct—and seven floor tiles smaller.

  Her frown deepened. “I knew it. You’re one of those mage-trespassers, aren’t you?”

  Milo shrugged, eying her nametag. “I don’t see why that’s a problem. Trespassing doesn’t hurt anyone, Sandra. Plus, the Manual says Anomalies might bring bad luck, so it’s a merit to devour them.”

  Sandra chuckled. “The act itself doesn’t hurt, no. If you were just breaking into places with weird vibes, that’d be fine. But I’ve seen what mage-trespassers do with the Anomalies they harvest. I’m not keen to get set on fire or have my lungs stolen, so my lips are sealed. That’s a promise.”

  Milo’s brow furrowed. She’s talking about Arsonists and the Burglars’ Society. I guess ever since I got fired, anti-trespasser courses have become more comprehensive. And more loaded with paranoid propaganda. He cocked his head. Being feared could save me from spending some time in prison, if she really doesn’t snitch.

  His Sympathy emerged beside him. The door was still a little dented from his encounter with the Anomaly, but the process of digestion was already repairing its body. Sandra watched the wood knit together with eyes like saucers.

  It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, Milo thought. That’s why I’m doing this.

  “Here’s the magic you’re so afraid of,” he said.

  She squinted. “Does it kill people with splinters?”

  “Nope.”

  “Is it a tomb? You lock someone in and they never come out?”

  “Nah, it only leads somewhere when Anomalies are involved.”

  Sandra tapped her foot. “Okay, I’m stumped. How does this cause mayhem? What does it do?”

  Milo laughed. “What do you mean, ‘what’s it do’? It’s a door. It leads somewhere if I open it, but most of the time it’s a rectangle of wood. Well… actually. There is one thing. I just developed it after absorbing the Anomaly. Wanna see?”

  Sandra leaned in slightly to stare at it. “Against my better judgment? Yeah.”

  Still, she maintained a respectful distance.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “I don’t know what this’ll do, but I have a hunch… behold!” Milo gestured proudly to the door.

  Click.

  The hinges moved on their own. The door opened itself to 30 degrees.

  Milo jabbed a thumb at it with a denigrating expression. “Yup, this thing is useless!” he said jovially.

  She laughed. Milo laughed with her, hysterical. Why couldn’t it have been spatial manipulation? Now my future as a magician is shot!

  “I guess you could concuss someone if they ran into it real fast?” she said, but the mirthful grin on her face did not fade. “Why’d you get it, anyway? Is a mage-trespasser’s magic random?”

  “It’s called a Sympathy,” Milo said. “I got to choose its shape.”

  Puzzled, Sandra walked in a circle around him. Investigating his expression as it soured. She pointed at his Sympathy. “You don’t seem crazy. Why this?”

  Milo rubbed his eyes. Don’t cry. Idiot. “Since I refuse to drive,” he said morosely, “I thought if I got some kind of spatial manipulation power, I could skip commutes with it. A gate seemed best for that. Then job-hunting would be easier…”

  Yes. Indeed. The reason why it mattered that this supposed spatial Anomaly was ‘the closest’... it had to be within walking distance!

  She patted him on the back. “There, there. You’re like thirty, you can get over your fear of driving.”

  “I’m twenty-two!” Milo wailed.

  “Oh, really?! But you look so short.”

  “What does that have to do with-”

  “Give me your phone number. It’s easier to apologize over the phone.”

  Holy shit. She’s a go-getter! But she only saw me being pathetic! No, think of it in practical terms. She must want to get in on the ground floor if I ever figure out commute-skipping. There are no ulterior motives here!

  “Okay,” said Milo. “Do you have a pen?”

  He signed his cell number in the prop birthday card.

  The trudge home was arid and dusty. Sweltering California sun beat upon Milo’s skin like a dental drill. The fields were charitably gold; more likely burnt, dead yellow wheat. On the distant horizon a factory chugged timber and belched smoke into the sky.

  I’m going to get a farmer’s tan again, Milo thought peevishly, rolling up the sleeves of his tee to discover he already had.

  There was nothing to do on the walk but think about his Sympathy. So he did.

  I can’t just think of it as “my door” any more. It’s mine but the Anomaly is baked into the wood grains. That means it needs a name, since it’s no longer an extension of just myself.

  “Revolving,” he said aloud. “Nice ring to it. Sounds even better if I pretend it’s a gun.”

  Revolving could open itself, but that wasn’t the only use he could think of for the Anomaly’s power. Now that he was digesting it, he was certain it “stockpiled rotational momentum”. Before he finished digesting, he had about two hours to decide what tertiary effects to empower with those nutrients.

  There were three things he could feasibly apply the energy to. Or he could just let his Sympathy grow naturally, performing all three to a lesser extent.

  “I can make the door more durable. I can make its hinges open to a wider angle. Or I can make it open faster.”

  Although that Anomaly fed itself into my door like a coyote to a painted tunnel, there’s no guarantee that other threats I’ll face as a magician will do the same. Opening faster is necessary if I want to hit something with my own power.

  But there was another consideration. Anything smart enough to avoid running directly into my door isn’t going to get close to it on purpose more than once.

  Milo frowned. Already, he had forgotten the heat haze beating down, forgotten that he was putting one foot in front of the other.

  How… can I make it less predictable?

  Milo was right-handed. Revolving’s knob always appeared on the right, while the hinges appeared on the left. In terms of boxing, it was like practicing a mean right hook but neglecting even jabs.

  He frowned, and the sun caught in the creases of his wrinkled forehead.

  “I’m going about this the wrong way,” he realized aloud. “If I want to be less predictable, I can’t guarantee that by opening faster than people will predict.”

  I have to go farther than they expect.

  Milo passed a toolshed looming in the field. He took shade beneath the bent boughs of its roof.

  His Sympathy manifested against the wall. Though he had known of it for less than a month, it felt more and more like an extension of his body.

  The door swung open. The shed’s spruce planks peered at him from behind it.

  From a flat perspective, I can only do that. But the Revolving isn’t constrained to lying flush with walls. What’s it called, again? A saloon hinge?

  Revolving appeared floating six or so paces away from the shed. Milo’s green eyes glinted.

  “That’ll do.”

  The best way to make Revolving harder to read… open it both inwards and outwards!

  Milo felt the Anomaly’s energy simmering in his body. The door warped and shook like it was hidden beneath a heat mirage.

  Click. It opened inwards, 30 degrees. Click Click. It opened outwards, 30 degrees.

  Milo stepped around to the back of Revolving. As he expected, the hinges were, from his current perspective, on the right—and there was no knob on the left.

  Now all I have to do is…

  “Practice summoning Revolving backwards. Hm. At that point, couldn’t I have done visualization practice to mirror it horizontally?”