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	The Science of Magic Part One: Seeker A tale of Sheol David Brown 2004 - 2007 © 21/10/2005 & 24/4/2007, all rights reserved -------------------- Forward -------------------- Before I begin my story - before you as the reader delve into the first pages of this book, it is of crucial importance that I tackle a few issues involving the world of Sheol and its matrimonial science. The word ‘fantasy’, when used in the relevant context of folk-lore and modern fiction, is quite often used to describe a world or setting without the same laws as our own. The American Heritage Dictionary describes the word fantasy as being ‘an unrealistic or improbable supposition’ and ‘unrestrained fancy’ (the latter is particularly applicable for the word’s context in which we are dealing). At times, the pedantic and over-learned enjoy using the term ‘fantasy’ as an almost derogatory one. There are many who look down upon fantasy in all its forms. Perhaps this is because they lack imagination to grasp the concept of such a ‘fanciful’ world, and perhaps, Ursula K. LeGuin hit the metaphoric nail on the head when she said: ‘Fantasy is true, of course. It isn't factual but it is true. Children know that. Adults know it too, and that is precisely why many of them are afraid of fantasy. They know that its truth challenges, even threatens, all that is false, all that is phoney, unnecessary, and trivial in the life they have let themselves be forced into living. They are afraid of dragons, because they are afraid of freedom.’ While I do not intend to argue the case of fantasy’s righteous glory, I do intend to point out that my love for fantasy as a genre is marred by one blemish in the fanciful universe of its literature: unrealism. Perhaps (to play devil’s advocate, and argue the case of the anti-fantastical), it is this very reason many adults deny the whims of the fantasy world, and deem them as ‘childish’. Perhaps it is not because fantasy ‘threatens’, but because it cannot sit well in a mind that no longer believes that Father Christmas is a man who sneaks down every chimney in the world once a year to leave them gifts. Fantasy has to be alien, otherwise it wouldn’t be fantasy. But does fantasy have to be illogical? Does it have to lack realism and invent truths that alienate older audiences? Perhaps not. My reckoning was that a fantasy story with married logic and imagination could break down such barriers. Indeed, Sheol certainly falls under the approximate banner of the word ‘fantasy’. Sheol is a world with some scientificlaw, and some logic, even if perhaps it is alien to our own. But the idea behind the world certainly incorporates a great deal of science fiction, and as such it could perhaps be better classed as Science Fantasy. Still, the classification of the series is as meaningless as sub-cultured schoolyard factions. It is what it is. And this is where I tell you what it is: The Science of Magic (moreover, the world Sheol) is a fantasy world, based on my own ideas of magic, monsters and heroic deeds. But it is restricted by just two things: the bounds of my imagination and logical realism. These two things became the story’s title: The Science of Magic. What if magic was really, truly, and scientifically possible? What if there was some way that a regular Human being could, without use of spiritism, superstition or hocus-pocus, perform the impossible. After all, the magic of today is but the science of tomorrow. When a spell is cast in fantasy story, I find myself wanting to know how it is done, and just what kind of science is the basis of such a fantastical feat. But quite often, I’ve found myself let down in this area. Likewise, I find myself dwelling on constant plot holes in science fiction stories, such as the times when all the aliens the protagonist meets speak the same language as they do (American, usually), or when alien planets have the exact amount of days in a year as our own world. This frustrated me to no end, and I found myself asking the inevitable question: why can’t fantasy be realistic? Why does it have to be … unbelievable? So, before I go on to tell my story, I need to tackle several issues that may cause the more sceptical readers to be put off by the initially apparent improbability of certain situations. By talking about these issues I hope to clear up some aspects of the story which might otherwise mar the enjoyment of a serious reader. These things are: language, wildlife, the celestial passage of time, and the current technological advancements of the races. Other truths will of course be revealed throughout the story, such as the specific science behind magic, and the origins of the world, the races and the creatures on it. Firstly, in regards to the native languages of the world of Sheol, it is important to remember that there are many. Each of the major races of Sheol have their own language, and some of these languages are split into a various few dialects separated mostly be region. You should also keep in mind as you read this novel that the language I have translated all other languages into is English of our world. Because of this, a language barrier may exist between our protagonist and other characters he meets, but there is no such language barrier existing to you as the reader (excepting the odd cases when I intend it to be so). There is, of course, no ‘English’ on Sheol, neither is there any known language of our own world; there are simply new languages. Even the languages that the Human race speaks within Sheol are totally alien to us. This also applies to descriptive words of all kinds, including animals, technical terms, weapons, etc. However, I often chose to use the closest English approximation to describe Sheol’s content, if the object in question is a close parallel to our own understanding. For example, a rapier in Sheol is slightly different to a classic rapier from our own histories, as it is a different world and therefore it should not be assumed that culture and technology would grow coincidentally parallel to our own history. But I use the word ‘rapier’ so that the readers can get an idea what I am talking about without the need to introduce you to countless new terms for new objects. The rapier of Sheol is similar enough to the rapier we are all familiar with. So in translation, a sword that was originally called a ‘cussamaer’ in the native language of its Sheolite inventor, it becomes simply ‘rapier’ on the pages of the novel. Logically, it follows that when a type of sword is introduced which has no real likeness to any found in the histories of our own world, its Sheolite name is retained, and the object is described and explained so as to introduce the reader to it. Similarly, a rabbit in Sheol might not be exactly the same as the rabbits on our world; in fact, in Sheol they are called ‘mori’ by Humans, and they are slightly larger, with longer snouts. But to save complication, I will use the term ‘rabbit’ to describe them because they are as close enough to being a rabbit and therefore no new terms need to be introduced and learned. Explaining the individual species of wildlife on Sheol is something that will be done in the actual novel as each specimen comes up (on a need-to-know-basis), but suffice it to say that while ‘mori’ exists, there are also horses, for example, which are no less than actual horses (they are not actually called ‘horses’ by any of the races, but that is simply because nobody speaks English in Sheol). Moreover, there are animals in Sheol which are so far alien from Earth’s own creatures that I am forced to give a separate name in the local language of that region of Sheol. The reasons behind this complicated animal kingdom are something that will become apparent later on in the story. I do not wish to reveal any major plot twists yet, so that’s all I will say on the matter. The issue of language also brings us to the tricky matter of the passage of time. Sheol is not Earth, so it would be illogical to assume that co-incidentally it might be of the same size and celestial position in accordance with its star and neighbouring planets. In actuality, Sheol is the second planet from its sun (which is slightly smaller than Alpha-Centuri), and is orbited by three moons. It also has a wider surface of land-to-sea ratio (1:1, compared to the Earth, which has much less dry land by comparison), but is not quite as big as the planet Earth. What’s more, it would be unreasonable to assume that the planet’s inhabitants would measure time in the same way (60 minutes in an hour, for example). Because of this, Sheol’s calendar is a far cry from that of Earth. It does not have 60 minutes in an hour, 12 months per year, and neither do the months amount to 28-31 days. To tackle this issue, we need, firstly, to concentrate on the measure of time in relation to language, and thereby the translation into our own chronological measurements. In Sheol, minutes are measured metrically, as are hours. In fact, they are not called minutes or hours at all, and are thought of in quite a different light. To save on this complication, I have attempted to approximately translate each time unit into our own language and measurements. So, the reader does not need to concern themselves with this complication, as I will always speak in terms of Earth seconds, hours, minutes and days. Where Sheol calendar months and years are concerned, it is a different matter. I cannot skirt the fact that month in Sheol lasts a uniform 25 days (except the last month, which lasts only 20 days), or that there are only 10 months in the year on this planet. Still, a day on Sheol does indeed last roughly 24 hours Earth time, so the only thing that will be different in this story compared to one set on Earth is that years and months will pass more quickly. It would take exactly the same number of days to travel 100 kilometres on both Earth and Sheol, so the reader need not be overly daunted by the prospect of needing to constantly learn new chronological terms. This, naturally, brings me to the translation of distance into our own modern language. Rather than use the terms of measurements common to Sheol’s native population, I have opted to translate them directly into our own modern understanding of the same distances. To illustrate, let’s assume a character says: ‘It’s 100 kilometres to Amillay’, the character would not actually be saying ‘kilometres’ (as a kilometre does not exist in Sheol), nor would he be speaking a Sheolite word that translates into ‘kilometres’. Instead, in the same way I am translating all languages to English, I am also translating all units of measurement into terms of our own understanding. *1 At times throughout my stories, I have included footnotes regarding in-depth details of Sheol’s history, racial customs, languages and more. These are not imperative to the storyline, but they do help the reader to understand the world more fully. As such, they are optional reading. While I do not wish to over-complicate the story, I did find it imperative to build a realistic world. My only excuse is that I am obsessed with realism and logic, so I could not simply write a fantasy story and leave out the science of magic anymore than I could leave out the magic in this fantasy story. Likewise, the world’s creation (which took me many years), begs to be born onto the literary page in the same way a painting begs to be shown in a gallery. Whether you choose to look is up to you. My main aim as a writer is not to boggle the reader with needless trivialities and complicated histories; it is simply to entertain. Yes I wanted to create a world that feels as real to the reader as it does to me, but as a storyteller, this was never the point of telling these stories. You might say that the world was made to bring my stories to life, rather than my stories being written to bring my world to life. So when you read the first of many novels set in my world of Sheol, enjoy yourself. As much as I believe that magic and science can in fact go hand in hand, this is still a fantasy novel, primarily concerned with the escapism of the reader. So please enjoy it. -------------------- *1 The most common Sheol unit of distance measurement is called a ‘yan’, a Tenakoshan word that can be translated into the phrase ‘ten long steps’. But of course, this is a triviality not needed for the purposes of enjoying the story.
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