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Unhidden Joy I heard Mio’s footsteps in the hallway, checking to see if all the apprentices were in bed for the night. I tucked the Arcane Radio Supply catalog under my pillow and doused my magic light, whipping the covers up over my shoulders as I lay down. The steps paused in front of my door and as he opened it, I remembered to close my eyes and calm my breathing, anything to make it look like I was sleeping. After a long moment—I swore Mio wanted to see if I gave up all pretense of sleeping—there was a soft sigh as if Mio didn’t know what to do with me, then the door closed. Heck, I was nearly forty and I still didn’t know what to do with myself. All I knew was that the breakdown I’d had which now rendered me unable to work had sent me looking for something, anything and finding what I’d thought was a cult for joy seemed better than wallowing at home in anxiety and pity. But this wasn’t a cult, it was a magic order, and I actually was a mage. My breakdown hadn’t been stress and a whole lot of things that should have been diagnosed and I should have been supported through so much earlier. It had been because I hadn’t been experiencing enough joy. Like capital W T F – why did no one tell us that for certain mages we had to experience a certain amount of joy each day or else our brains blew up? The footsteps retraced to my door and it cracked open. “You’re thinking too much again, Haven. You’re safe. Your needs are met. Remain in the moment and if you can, sleep.” Mio’s soft, calm voice lulled me into believing, at least for a moment, that those things were true. Except, every nerve in my body vibrated with the need to share this with people. I wasn’t plugged into the magical world, but I’d been pretty plugged into pop culture and media, and I knew nothing about this. If I didn’t know, I bet others didn’t either. And how many of us were out there? I sighed, because if I kept thinking Mio would come back and make me lay in bed and do body scans and progressive relaxation until I at least hovered on the edge of sleepiness. How he remained completely in the moment, trusting that the future would be perfectly fine, I didn’t know. Seemed freaky to me. The footsteps walked past my front door. I shifted in bed, taking another big sigh to try and calm my mind, focusing on that spot just in front of my nose on the pillow to ground myself. I swore I heard him smile, then he continued walking. The steps went downstairs where the door closed, and then the silence of the night wrapped around me like a comforting cloak. Except it wasn’t silent. I heard the whirr of the furnace as it kicked on, the rustle of the air coming through the vent blowing a jacket I’d hung over the back of my desk chair, then left out from my desk because I’d been browsing my shelves looking for a book I swore I had about the schools of joy magic. Gaudium Magicum. Which sounded gaudy in and of itself. I preferred anand jadu, the Sanskrit word for it. Mio would tell me to quit worrying about which term I’d prefer and just do it. I smiled. I sighed. And somewhere between one thought and the next, I drifted off to sleep. ~* * *~ I knew I was dreaming because I was standing in the blackness of space next to a planet that probably was earth, only I wasn’t a scientist so it didn’t appear to be quite the exact replica, with a comically large radio tower on it. A tower, I realized, one that looked like the Radio Arcanum logo, loomed over the planet as if cartoonish. Lines radiated from the tower like waves going across the entire globe. I would have dismissed them as simply radio lines, but I distinctly heard a voice saying joy comes from connection. The words resonated with me. Yes, joy came from connection. That was part of what I’d been missing and why I’d succumbed to the breakdown. I’d lost my connection to myself and to others, including the outside world. Here, within the confines of this temple there were shrines to Lakshmi, Asvayujau, Laetitia, Baldr, and many other deities of joy. Here, in this dream, in this moment, I sensed not a single deity’s presence, but rather the personification of joy itself speaking with me. Though aware I was dreaming, I simply stared in awe at the image before me. Then, it faded, and I was shown the shed behind the temple used mostly for storage. I hadn’t gone into it except to get a few tools for the garden, but there, in a dusty tote, I saw what I was looking for—the radio that would connect me to Radio Arcanum. I awakened with a purpose. Light streamed through the window, and I blinked at its brightness. While we had free run of the grounds and very little restrictions upon us, I also knew if I grabbed that tote and set up the radio, I’d be violating Mio’s teachings. Focus on the world within and the world as it is in this moment. Do not worry about the world outside these walls. Focus on your magic. His words, repeated every morning after breakfast, echoed in my mind. And yet, somehow, I knew the world beyond was connected with my magic. I’d heard rumors of other magical groups, other ways of creating magic. I needed to learn more; I hungered to learn more. I’d just have to talk to Mio. I tossed back the covers and got out of bed. After brushing my teeth and changing into clean clothes, I went through a Sun Salutation and my morning meditation. I was the last one downstairs for breakfast, but today the fruit and oatmeal tasted more delicious, the orange juice just a bit tarter, and I believed that I was on the right path. After breakfast we went into the workroom, a large basement studio where we were to pursue what brought us joy. Simone sat at the pottery wheel in the corner, and soon it’s steady whir-whir-whir as she molded clay filled the room with an effervescent light. Davis went to the easel, opened his tin of pastels and began drawing. We were to be creative, Mio had told us, to use our talents to bring joy to ourselves and the world. This was our practice, and this was our calling. I went to the table in the corner, well away from them and the others. Someone danced on a mat; another acolyte sat with a large bag of yarn and was kitting, or crocheting, I never could remember which, someone else had a digital drawing tablet. I sat and opened the box containing all the parts. My joy was in fixing things, and while I didn’t work on fancy electronics, I could do some. Prior to my burnout, I’d been tinkering with small gadgets, a bit of soldering, science fair type stuff. I’d dreamed of opening up my own repair store, even though I didn’t have any of the magic that would allow me to talk to things run by electricity. I’d heard of that, was envious as hell about it, but my magic wasn’t there. This was a lamp. It’d once been an old base, some kind of wooden sculpture that had been turned on a lathe, maybe in some teenager’s shop class. The lamp had long since stopped working, and I’d scavenged it from the curb, where it’d been tossed out to go to the dump. The wood had a curving, natural shape to it, not a man-made column or cylinder. Instead, the natural knots in the wood had been brought out with curving lines and interesting sweeps of a chisel. Love and care had gone into this piece. And even though I didn’t know by whom, bringing it back to a functional state was bringing me joy. I’d spent many hours cleaning the wood, polishing it, even found half a can of linseed oil that I’d finished it with. Removing the old wiring and broken receptacle for the bulb hadn’t been hard. I’d rigged up a way to test the components, and had found another lamp from which to take the necessary parts. Doing this without money, in ways that allowed me to upcycle and repurpose things was part of my joy. The hours spent walking along the sidewalk, not exactly dumpster diving, but also keeping an eye out for things that could be of use, that, too, was part of my joy. I threaded the wire through the lamp, carefully working it along its length. I was aware of the creative, joyful energy flowing around me. If I looked closely with my magic sight, I’d be able to see the joy moving through the air like sparkling dust motes. I paused for a moment, the desire to share this with someone, anyone, welling up within me. What good was joy, I wondered, if I kept it to myself? I sensed Mio’s presence before he appeared by my table. “And what are we working on today? I do not sense as much joy from you, and it must be cultivated.” “And shared,” I insisted, the words out of my mouth before I could censor them in front of my teacher. “We need to connect with others, to share. The radio—” “The outside world seeks to rob our joy,” Mio said softly. “Do you wish to deprive the other seekers of theirs?” I pressed my lips together to keep from rebutting him. Unlike some of the others, prodigies who had been cosseted and held away from the world, I had lived in it, been in it. And yes, I’d burnt out, broken down, and nearly been destroyed by the unceasing desire for more. My employer had wanted more money, more productivity. I’d thought happiness had come from more of what—I did not know—but more of whatever it was I didn’t have. I swallowed hard. “No, teacher. I do not.” I admitted at last. “But while I know better than they that the world is harsh, I also know that it is not completely unfeeling.” I wondered if those who were running saw the streets the way I did. I doubted it. They spoke of times and becoming one with the movement, a quick, mindful meditation that brought them into themselves and dissolved the self at the same time. “We will not know until we try. The world knows of many different kinds of magic. Why shouldn’t they know the magic of joy?” There, I’d said it. Asked the question that had been burning in my soul these many months. “There is a place where all the magic wielders connect,” I said, emboldened by my words and the fact that Mio wasn’t immediately silencing me. “We do not have to leave, and we can be as anonymous as we wish.” I thought the last part was the case. Disembodied voices over the radio seemed as anonymous as it got, like text on the screen. “You’re referring to the Radio Arcanum,” Mio said. “If you are at a good stopping point, come with me.” I sensed a shift within him, a resignation that I wouldn’t let this line of questioning go, so he might as well indulge me. We walked in silence out of the room, up the stairs, and then out the back door to the shed. My dream! My heart leapt, and I struggled to keep my emotions in check. Our magic worked on joy; it also required control. “We were on the Radio Arcanum once. People can look up your call sign and find you, if they wished. Perhaps you are right, and we are too afraid of those who wish to steal our joy.” Mio opened the door to the shed. He pointed to a dust-covered plastic tote in the back of the shed, underneath boxes with scrawling writing on the sides that had faded either through time or magic. “When you finish your lamp, come and get this box. I will send what books we have on the topic to your room. If this is your joy, Haven, perhaps if you seek it, then it will calm your mind. Now come along. You have a project to finish, and I…” Mio’s voice trailed off. He stared at me. “I have to figure out what to do with you, because you are not like the others, and in seeking your joy, you may have to leave our sanctuary.” I gasped. There were the words that I’d been dreading since my arrival. It was safe here. I mean sure, I was a little odd with my focus on electronics while the other novices were all into the arts. If I added prayers to the gods of things—I didn’t know who they were but imagined if we worshipped a panoply of deities of joy, then there had to be at least one god of technological things—to my morning devotionals, I didn’t think anyone minded. Now I wondered if Mio knew. “But I don’t want to,” I said, aware that I sounded like a child rather than a middle-aged adult. “I—” “Came to us physically hurting and heartsore with too little joy in your life. But now you know to cultivate joy and if going into the world will bring you more joy, then you cannot deny that sacred calling,” Mio said. “Come. Let’s go inside. You need to finish the lamp, and I need to ponder what to do with you.” I nodded and followed silently, though Mio’s comment that he had to “ponder what to do with me” rather hurt. It reminded me of my mother when she was in one of her moods. I’d also had more than one boss say the same thing. Milo sent me downstairs and I sat at my table, aware that the music had changed and some of the others had moved onto other projects. I looked at the lamp, thinking if I focused I could finish it today. And then tomorrow, I could start working on the radio. ~* * *~ The paperwork sat on the desk in my room when I returned after lunch the next day. I’d finished the lamp, demonstrated how it had worked, and we’d all given supplication to the deities of joy, even if I could tell many of the other novices didn’t quite understand why I found joy in fixing things. Still, Mio had asked if he could use the lamp in his office, and I’d humbly accepted. If I was going to leave, and I’d been giving that a lot of thought, then perhaps Mio wanted something to remember me by. The envelope sitting on top of a box had a return address from the Radio Arcanum Society. I opened it to find a letter addressed to me giving me a new call sign, USREC3. I had no idea what to do with it, and I was told I couldn’t use it until I passed a test. A test? I struggled against rolling my eyes because studying for a test most definitely wasn’t part of the joy I had to experience. Except, if it allowed me to connect, and maybe even use the radio once I might experience joy. And the learning might spark joy too. I flipped through the papers. There was a lot to go over, and then I opened the books. As I guessed, there’d be a lot to learn, but it was interesting. I didn’t know a lot about electronics or electric stuff, in spite of my finding things from the curb and fixing them like the lamp. Fixing a lamp, and I’d done a lot of lamps in my stay here, was one thing. It was like my hands were being guided to transistors and diodes, and I knew just what to do. Scanning these books were like going into a math class, only it was an interesting topic and something I wanted to learn. I grabbed a book and took it to my bed, stretching out to read. A few hours must have passed because soon I heard a soft knock on my door and looked up from the diagram I was examining to see Mio standing in the doorway. “You didn’t come down for laughter today,” he said. “Is everything all right?” A moment later his eyes landed on the open box, the books strewn around, and the one I was holding. He smiled. “Ahh yes, that material arrived today for you. I see, you’re pursuing joy. I hate to interrupt, but I think I have some thoughts on your next journey.” I used a postcard that had come with the book to mark the page, then set it on the table next to my bed. “My next journey? Then I won’t be staying here with you.” Mio went to the desk and pulled the chair over so he could sit next to the bed. “No, Haven. I have meditated and this order needs to remain as isolated as possible. We allow people to walk, and the locals know we’re here. But going onto the airwaves isn’t aligned with our purpose. We are a sanctuary, a place to find joy away from the world. It is time for you to go back into the world.” A sudden fear washed over me. I stiffened, the only word coming to my mind was “no”, because the world was too big, too much, and I— Mio touched my arm. “You would not be alone. I reached out to a transition order, one that if you wish, would help you find the school of magic to which you belong, because you do have the potential, and joy will not fully express it for you. The radio is yours. Take it with you. After devotions tomorrow, I’d like you to meet someone.” The decision had been made then. I nodded. “Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate…” My throat closed and I feared tears would make it difficult to speak. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” I said at last. “I know. This isn’t easy for us either. We have enjoyed having you here.” But my time was done. The decision final. My need for connection, even though I believed there was joy in connecting with others, and I knew Mio did too, would be my undoing. Mio stood, reminded me that dinner would be served soon, and I could learn and find my joy on a full stomach. But I wasn’t hungry. Still, I went downstairs anyway. ~* * *~ My heart pounded as I walked to the meeting room where outsiders arrived. The last time I’d been in this room I’d been worn out, exhausted, running on fumes and grasping at straws, which had come in the form of an invitation to meet with Mio and find sanctuary. I entered the room to find a man wearing a nice t-shirt with a blazer over it and jeans and Converse sneakers standing next to a woman wearing a blouse and jeans with low-heeled boots. “You must be Haven,” the man said, striding forward and offering me his hand to shake. I accepted. “I’m Vern from Ordo Recortis, or the Order of the Guide, but you can just call us The Order. Mio wanted us to talk about the next steps in your journey.” I noticed a tattoo of a fancy-looking key on the inside of his wrist. “I am.” I wasn’t sure what to say and my anxiety was starting to overwhelm me. “Let’s sit. I’m Sura. This is probably a shock for you. I bet Mio told you just last night that you’d be meeting us.” She gestured to the chairs around a large meeting table, and I accepted one. “He did,” I admitted, taking the chair closest to me. Sura gave me a sympathetic smile. “I told you, Vern.” She sat across from me, and Vern took the chair next to her. “This isn’t an interrogation. You’re welcome at the Order. What neither Mio, nor Vern, has told you is that the guides at the order are bound to help you find your magic. It sounds like you have an affinity for electronics and are looking to be a part of Radio Arcanum, but you also have some connection with joy magic, is that right?” I nodded. “Just how long as Mio been talking with you about me?” I asked, because I was starting to think this had been in the works for a while and no one had bothered to tell me until last night. “Only a couple of weeks,” Vern said. “As you probably noticed most joy mages work with the arts. Mio wondered if perhaps your affinity for electronics was another manifestation of that. Part of his work is to make sure that you find your joy. We’re going to be the next step of that.” I processed what he said. “Mio said I can’t stay here. Where will I go?” “You’ll stay with the Order until we can determine your magic skill or if you have a blending of skills, and then we’ll help you find your next spot. Think of us as a halfway house for wayward mages.” That didn’t sound so bad, though it did sound as if I’d be going through a lot of transitions, and there was a lot of uncertainty. One thing I knew, Mio didn’t have services or devotions for those who weren’t novices or lived here. I guess I’d hoped I’d become a novice someday, but things just hadn’t seemed right. Now I knew why. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On one hand, it reminded me of things that had happened before the burnout. On the other, it meant Mio cared about my joy, which I suppose was part of his work, and wanted me to be where I was happy. The problem was, at the moment, I wasn’t sure where I was happy. Read the full article

On the floor by the door, Remus whined as the howl of the local red wolf pack rose into the trees. Family. The thought skirted Hiram’s mind, and he nodded before taking another sip of the moonshine. “They ain’t your family no more,” he said. “But it still hurts. I know.” Hurt like the dull throb of his thumb, the nail black and threatening to peel from where he’d missed the nail he’d been hammering because he’d been thinking about the letter that had come nearly a week ago now. Hurt like the reminder he wasn’t wanted. The increased lanterns he saw coming from the direction of Gemini Lacus, headquarters to Armis, the Musimagium’s law enforcement arm, told him something not very good was going to happen. He still read the dits and dahs like he had during the great war, the cadence of morse code somewhat soothing, even as they talked about the schisms happening in the Musimagium. People like him weren’t welcome. Not fancy enough. Not cultured enough. Damn prohibitionists doing more than trying to outlaw the drink. They really didn’t like people who didn’t meekly follow the rules, people like him who asked too many questions. Even tonight, with the burn of moonshine in his veins and the howl of wolves making Remus itchy to go out and run with the pack that had refused him, the sound of those same dits and dahs coming from the receiver didn’t soothe him either. Not wanted. The foreman at Gemini Lacus had said as much the last time he’d been by to repair their radio transceivers. Not a lot of call for the skills he’d learned during the Great War down in the Ozarks, but they’d needed him where the agents listened to the radio signals and tried to ferret out those who were using magic to harm. But the official letter that his contract had ended put a stop to that. Someone else would fix their radios now, someone a bit more cultured, someone not bonded to a three-legged wolf. A grin turned Hiram’s lips, and he took his third and final sip for the night, before putting the cork back in the bottle and setting it on the table beside him. Remus whined again. The thunder, and the howls, were getting louder. Family. This time the images sent to his mind were a flash of red fur darting between spindle-trunked oak trees, the scent of loam with a hint of warm sunshine he associated with rabbits, filling his nostrils. Remus rose onto his three good legs, the paw of his right front not quite long enough to support his weight. He went to the door and nosed it once, twice, then sat, tail thumping gently against the cabin’s wooden floorboards. “You know you can’t run with them. Can’t keep up and you smell too much like me.” He held out his arm, the sleeve rolled up to reveal forearms tanned from the sun and thick with graying black hair, as if to let Remus smell him and remember where he belonged. Remus sniffed and his tail thumped a little faster. “Okay, boy. But don’t go far and come right back.” A crack of lightning and rumble of thunder nearly drowned out his words and for a moment Remus hunched down. But he had the door opened and the red wolf darted out without hardly making a sound. He stepped onto the porch that looked off to the east and toward the road. From the ridge he could barely see it through rows upon rows of trees, but he thought about Remus, saw the trunks flashing past as he raced down hill, tongue lolling out of his mouth, and sheer joy in the movement. Electricity crackled in the air. Any other wild creature would be holed up in its den, but not Remus. It’d been on a night like this when he’d found the pup, his paw caught in a bear trap someone set and forgot about. The pup had been weak, and he hadn’t thought it’d survive. But Remus had. Hiram’s leg twinged with the change in weather. He reached down to rub his thigh, then stopped, hand hovering mid-air when the image of the grey and red pelt flashed through Remus’ vision. His wolf had stopped, hunkered low in some blackberry vines, ignoring the thorns in the hopes of not being seen. The bigger wolf looked like a cross between a gray and a red, and when he sat and howled even the rumble of thunder stopped to listen. Shivers ran down his spine. The Moko Pack. This short story was previously exclusive to the Muse Happens subscription program (paid tiers) is now available for sale only here at the Kit Author website. When you purchase it for $0.99 you'll receive a coupon for $1 off your first month of membership at Muse Happens. Grab the short story here! Read the full article

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