The Ghostwriter's Words

Sara: An Engagement, a Forever, a Broken Heart and Magick

A glass of Scotch Magickly appeared in the Professor's hand, surprising even himself. "I wanted it, and there it was," he announced in amazement. Magick was brand new to him. As Sara had warned him, he had missed a lot over the past five centuries.

Sammy informed him, "That happens to be the finest Scotch in the world. What's in your glass spent a century in a series of different barrels. When I'm not guzzling it, I'm constantly finding new layers and flavors that poke their heads out and then hide again. It's like candy. Maybe too much like candy."

The Professor admired his glass with more respect. He sipped in just enough to coat his tongue, savoring it with a smile. "It is like candy, isn't it?" he agreed, then decided, "I believe I'll have another." He tossed back the remainder of his glass, humming an appreciative sound, as a full decanter appeared on the table beside him.

Sara's AI Avatar had been instructing him, and he'd been practicing. Little things, such as fetching himself a drink from Sammy's private stash. Conjuring airplanes and Golems would come in time.

"Care for one, birthday boy?" the Professor asked, another tumbler appearing in his hand as he lifted the decanter to pour.

Sara shouted, "Oh, no! That can wait. We need to toast Sammy's birthday properly." Flutes and a massive bottle of Champagne on ice joined the decanter on the table. "I've been saving this for a century. It's the best of the best, from as far back as anyone has records. It is the best vintage in history, based on legend, since no one alive has ever tasted it. There are three bottles left in the world. Thankfully, they are all larger bottles and more likely to be still good, but I think we will all find ourselves quite drunk if we don't allow any of this to go to waste."

"Invite more people," Claire suggested dreamily, obviously off in her own world. Her new, evolving world, where art streamed from her imagination.

"Who?" Sara wondered, then announced, "Lady, of course, although she must have guests." She sent the invitation, then happily shared the response aloud. "Lady is already on her way, with a couple celebrating their anniversary, over the moon to meet the Descendant and honored to have the opportunity to wish him a happy birthday personally."

The Professor announced, "I've invited a guest too. But I thought it best if she didn't arrive until I better understood how things were going." He took a quick look in Sammy's direction, then Sara's. "She's nearly here."

To Sara, he privately asked, 'Do you have any more of that special elixir?' He flashed her a look at a small box he slipped from his pocket.

Sara smiled, and a sealed container floated to the table beside him as they heard a voice call out, "Hello! Anyone here?"

Lady arrived shortly after the Professor's guest, her excited guests in tow. With everyone expected now present, the cork was removed from the Champagne, with hardly a pop, without a human hand, and only Sara Two showed any surprise. Not even Lady's guests.

"I don't want to waste any fizz that's left," Sara One explained, adding, "Divers discovered this in the hold of a ship that sank centuries ago." The bottle was visibly ancient and appeared to pour itself as the flutes were all filled, then found their way to each guest's hands.

Claire hesitated before taking hold of the flute floating in the air before her. "What the fuck," she finally declared, "I'll never know what I'm drinking around here." To Sara, she privately inquired, 'Is what's happening here the same as what you did at home? Will I be able to do this too? Will I be a witch like you?'

'We're not witches; it is just Champagne,' Sara assured her. "Magick isn't sorcery. It's science, engineering, and a few centuries of research.' She touched her Magick Hat, explaining, 'It's imagination, thoughts with intention, the same as you're creating your art. Only with the assistance of billions of microscopic nanobots.' Sara smiled with pride, telling Claire, 'Magick is mine. My invention. I'm pretty smart if I do say so myself.'