#programming in magic

 Y’all have been asking for a sequel to this one, and here it is!

 +++

“How did you do that?”

Rick looked up when Marina spoke. She was real pretty. Big green eyes and red hair. Rick hadn’t worked up the courage to really talk to her yet.

The narrow-eyed expression of suspicion wasn’t really a good sign. Rick had sisters. He knew that look meant trouble.

“I told you; it’s called code,” he said and focused on the line he was trying to get work.

So far, it wasn’t working.

Well, he managed to get some spectacular sparks, and lit the curtains on fire, but Marina was decidedly calm about that. Maybe student mages did that kind of thing a lot? Rick didn’t have any way to know and Marina didn’t seem likely to tell him.

“Yes, but how did you do it?” she persisted, and finally set her book down so she could get a better look at the code he was tryingot write out on the floor in chalk.

God he missed his computer. Less than a week, and he would never take it for granted again.

Seriously. The backspace button. He would sell his soul for a backspace button that worked on chalk.

“I’m trying to figure out how to go home,” he said, and rubbed out one character to replace it with another. Days of trying and it still wasn’t working. He was starting to think it was wasted effort. “Open!”

Nothing.

“Portal magic is something only the Masters can use,” Marina told him shyly. She was still unsure what exactly she was supposed to be doing as Rick scribbled on the floor. For that matter, he really wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be doing. Until he could work the bugs out of his code, nothing was going ot happen. “It can be very difficult, and very dangerous.”

“Well, I got here one way or another,” Rickk pointed out. The code on the floor didn’t do anything, even after he rubbed out one clause and changed it by a few characters. “Crap. I was doing this in Haskell, but it’s not working. Myabe if I run it through Python…”

“What is that?” Marina asked, leaning forward to examine his code. “We use runes for some spells, especially in student magic, but this is something entirely different.”

“Python and Haskell are programming languages,” Rick sat back on his heels and sighed. At least on a computer he could try his code and maybe see what the problem was. This was nothing but ‘it works’ or ‘nope’ and it was driving him crazy. “Some languages are better than others, depending on the task you’re doing. I know a couple different ones, but this is… not exactly my wheelhouse. The magic, I mean.”

Real magic. That was trippy beyond measure and he really didn’t know what to make of it. Still, if code worked on magic, he could figure it out.

Probably.

Maybe.

He hoped, anyway.

Something occurred to him.

“Hey,” he looked up at Marina. “You know magic, right? What makes magic work?”

The question took her by surprise, but she thought for a while before relyping.

“It is energy,” she decided at last, and held out a hand. A little glittle or light ran across her fingertips. “In our world, there are rivers, unseen but present, called leylines. They are invisible, and usually under the earth. That energy is mutable, and shaped by will as guided by word, item, gesture, and rune.”

“Huh,” Rick muttered as he started to translate his line of code from one language to another. “Items?”

“Components, mostly,” Marina produced a vial fo glittering dust out of her belt pouch. Rick paused to examine it. “That is powdered mirror. I use it for communication spells. Another of my spells calls for rose petals, dried before midsummer. Often, the component speaks to the spell.”

“I didn’t write down CatDem,” Rick pointed out as he wrote, but he had a sneaking feeling that it wasn’t going to work any better in Python than it had in Haskell. “It just went off when the code flashed across my mind. But that was different. I mean, I know CatDem so well I could probably write it in my sleep.”

“What is CatDem?” Marina asked, bewildered.

“Huh? Oh, Catastrophic Demise. That spell that… kinda blew a hole in your castle.”

Blew a hole was downplaying it. Catistrophic Demise was an end-game spell that players could only get by doing a long series of complicated side quests. It was supposed to be a game-changer.

It was overkill for the whatever-it-was he nuked with it, but probably better than dying, which seemed pretty likely at the time.

He still felt kind of bad about the giant hole in the castle.

Marina was looking at his code again, and slid off her bench to get closer. “So this is a different language? Why did the first language not work?”

“Python is more object-oriented,” he told her, and held his hand over the line. “Open!”

Nothing. Not even sparks. Not even a waver in the air to suggest what had gone wrong.

God he missed his computer.

“Try with this,” Marina dug in her pocket for a minute and came up with a bottle of black liquid. When she shook it, it shimmered with powdered gold. “It’s made with powdered charcoal of holy basil, and gold.”

Rik examined it and shook the bottle to see the gold flakes float around in the thick liquid. “Does the type of ash matter?”

“Holy Basil is for moving forward, in the literal, and for seeking truth, in the metaphorical,” she told him with a shrug like it was common knowledge. “And gold conducts magic. Light magic, particularly, which I think is what you’re using.”

It was worth a shot. He eyed the floor, but was happier when she offered a slip of rag paper and a glass pen. He wasn’t accustomed to the antique tools, but they were better than chalk.

When he had the code transcribed, he handed the ink back, and looked down at his paper.

“Open!”

The paper lit on fire, and the air shimmered, before spitting out something that looked like a kitten.

Except, of course, kittens usually didn’t have feather wings to match a grey-spotted body.

“Ah,” Marina blinked, and offered her fingers for the little creature to smell. “Well, Ch’reet aren’t from this world…”

The kitten meeped and bumped its’ nose against her fingers politely, before leaping onto Rick’s shoulder, purring loudly.

Rick petted it helplessly and sighed.

“99 shiny new bugs in the code,” he sang glumly as the kitten made itself comfortable on his shoulders. “99 shiny new bugs. Take one down. Pass it around. 200 shiny new bugs in the code.”

+++

Counter-Code

Code for Magic

99 Shiny New Bugs

+++

The high sorcerer stared down at Rick with an expression of  wary suspicion on his ancient, bearded face. “You are here because one  of our students-“ he leveled a dangerously disappointed glare on the  hapless woman next to Rick, “-made a grave misjudgment while using a  portal spell.”

“To be fair, she saved my life,” Rick spoke up  and caught an elbow in the ribs from the woman. He thought her name was  Marina, but there wasn't much time to talk while a huge beast was trying  to eat them.

The high sorcerer was unmoved. “What I now must  discover,” he continued as if Rick hadn't said anything, “is how you  fended off the beast. The spells you used were unlike anything in our  archives. Where did you study?”

“I didn't?” Rick shrugged.  “It’s just that, well, I spend a lot of time thinking about magic. It’s  my job, I’m a programmer. So when I saw her using it, I figured I could  too, and it just kind of… came.”

“Programmer?” Marina couldn't hold herself back. She was pretty, and her bright blonde hair caught the sun. “What is that?”

“I  write code for-“ he tried to figure out a way to explain it. “It’s like  an illusion in a box that someone can interact with. I help build them-  my specialty is magic and explosions.”

“You are an illusionist?” The high sorcerer focused on the part he understood. “But the spells you used were not illusions.”

“Uh,  no. Those were just some ideas I had- when we got attacked, the code  sort of flashed in my head and the spell went off,” Rick tried to tell  him. “Okay uh- do you have chalk? I can write it out for you. It’s hard  to really translate.”

A lackey appeared at a gesture and offered a lump of chalk.

“Okay if I write on the floor here?”

“As long as it will not damage the floor.”

Well,  hopefully it wouldn't. Rick got on his knees and carefully wrote out a  line of code he knew well- a shield spell that featured heavily in the  game he was working on. A few minutes of thought and he thought he had  it right, complete with a verbal activation that (please God) should  work. When he was done, he stood up again and dusted off his hands.

“Shield, activate!” He said, hoping he wrote it down right.

A bright blue shield popped into existence around him and he stared at it, just as shocked as the rest of them when it worked.

“That’s awesome!” He crowed. “Dispel!”

The  high sorcerer didn't look disapproving anymore. He left his podium and  walked over to regard the line of symbols on his floor.

“This is… a spell?” He asked, intrigued. “It is no language I have ever seen.”

“It’s  a series of commands and perimeters,” Rick explained, now in his  comfort zone. He had been programming since he got his first computer as  a kid. “See here where I put this line- that’s where the verbal command  goes in. So when I say ‘shield, activate!’-“

The shield  reappeared. He tried not to crow. This was awesome. “It triggers the  next set of commands. ‘Block all magical effects targeting the caster’  ‘block all physical attacks targeting the caster’ and ‘color/blue’”

“You  put the color in?” Marina asked, kneeling beside the lines. “If I  change the color without your knowledge, should the shield change as  well?”

“Ought to. Anyone can alter code if you know how.” He pointed to the word and handed her the chalk. “Dispel! Okay, go ahead.”

She wiped away the chalk with her sleeve and wrote something else before nodding to him.

“Shield, activate!”

A  bright pink shield popped into existence around him. Rick started to  laugh. “Pink?” He asked through his grin. “Testing me, huh?”

“Wanted to know if you were telling the truth. So this will stay until it gets erased?”

“Ought to. I didn't put a use cap on it.”

“Use cap?”

“Uh, shot limit. You know, how many times you can use a wand before it runs out of charge?”

The  high sorcerer was looking speculative now. “Could anyone learn this  magic?” He asked, kneeling to examine the code. “Clearly anyone can  alter it, if a mere student can change it in a place.”

“I  mean, I’ve been writing code for a long time,” Rick told him. “Since I  was a kid- child I mean. But sure, I don't see why not.”

“Do  something else?” Marina asked, excitement coloring her voice. “Could  you- I don't know- make lights that burst without heat, and then stick  to the walls?”

“Maybe?” That was more complicated. He knelt to  scribble on the floor. “Putting a- a five minute time limit so they  aren't there forever and- let’s go with purple and green for colors-“

It was much more complicated and the long string of code took up several huge flagstones when he was done. “Okay- Burst!”

A  thunderclap echoed through the room as a firework exploded out of the  floor and left motes of light on every piece of stone they touched. The  lights sparkled brightly, and the watchers around them scrambled out of  the way.

Marina shrieked in glee, and the high sorcerer nodded.

“So this is how you defeated the beast?” He asked slowly, examining the new code, but not touching it.

Rick  rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, no I didn't have time to  write it out. Didn't even occur to me,” he said uncomfortably. “But I’ve  been coding this end-game spell all week and I got it right just as the  portal grabbed me and it just sort of… went off.”

“And the name of this spell?”

“…catastrophic demise.”

“Ah. That would explain the damage to the castle.”

 +++

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