Magic Is Walking — How I explain Magic

[black pan26]

Magic, is the ability to walk.

Imagine, for a moment. You are born in a world where everybody is paralyzed from the neck down.

From birth you are fitted with a machine which controls your body. The machine is weak, just barely able to perform daily tasks, but everyone else is the same so you never notice.

Then one day you meet someone.

They're walking! Without a machine!

They move with such speed and grace! Climbing, running, swimming, fucking walking without effort! With absolute ease!

You rush to meet them, straining your machine to its limit until finally you catch up in a moment when they've paused. And you ask them, "How?"

How can you move without your machine? How is your body anything more than a vessel for your mind, anything more than dead weight?

And they reply, "How can you not?"

"From the day of my birth," they begin, "I have been able to do these things, and I have always wondered why no one else did so. Recently I came to an answer. Do you wish to hear it?"

And you nod as the metal embracing you vibrates in place, showing your barely constrained interest and enthusiasm. But their next words drill a hole in the depths of your soul, sending you to the deepest pits of despair.

"I am special," they said simply, "and you are not."

And without sparing you another glance, another thought! They leave, letting you wallow.

Years pass, though you barely notice, until you meet one such being again. That is how rare they are, these folk that can walk. You heard that most tend to hide what they can do, a fact you find both easy and difficult to understand.

Despite your knowledge that you are lacking, a faint flicker of hope, like a spark of desire, ignites within you and you approach.

They pause. Unlike the other they notice you, and unlike the other they wait for you to come.

They hear your question, spoken with the edge of despair in your voice.

They think over your words, and you ready yourself for another crushing blow.

And at last, they give a response.

"Everyone can walk."

Shocked, you rear back.

"How?!" you ask, leaning forward as your loud tone drew a moment's attention from those passing by. Just as quickly they move on, seeing nothing amiss, nothing of interest.

After all, the one in front of you is one of those who hide their gift. Wearing a machine, though it gives them no aid.

"How?" you ask again in a lower tone, careful not to draw attention lest they refuse to reveal their secret before too many prying eyes and seeking ears.

They smile, amused at your outburst, and explain as best they can.

In a whisper they speak. "From the day of my birth, I was unable to walk, but I had heard and read countless stories of those who could. Like everyone, I believed these to be fiction, the imagination of authors giving a window into that which could not be."

"But one day, for just a second, I saw someone who could walk. It was ugly and difficult, a twisted limp with every step drawing forth a complaint and grimace of pain."

"I approached and I spoke and I asked, as you ask me."

"And they said, 'From the day of my birth, I bore the embrace of my machine. Yet, when my kin cried out for aid, I found I could move beyond its limit to save them. Now I work to regain that moment of infinity. What you see before you, horrific though it may appear, is the fruit of all my effort, and soon enough you will witness as I move with ease.'"

"Still, I disbelieved, but a part of me began to wonder, what if?"

"Thus, I turned off my machine and tried to walk."

You cut in, your excitement overwhelming you. "And so! You walked?!" You cried in a harsh yet excited whisper.

"Of course not!" They laughed. "I tipped forward and fell on my face. My family had to come and return me to the embrace of my machine lest I lay there and die."

Their laughter tapers off, returning to a calm smile.

"At first," they said, "I was overwhelmed with disappointment. For a time, I accepted what I thought was reality and gave up on a hopeless dream."

"But! Days later as I lay still in bed, I awoke to a realization. If I could not move without my machine, then how did I fall forward from its standing embrace? I did not know, I could not explain it."

"Buoyed by this mystery, I began to practice."

"The next day, I weakened my machine enough that I was noticeably slower and tried to live my life in such a state."

"But quickly I faltered. It was agony, I tell you, agony! I had no way to measure my progress and thus knew not when this willing suffering would end nor when it would bear any fruit. So, I returned my machine to full strength and contemplated my next act."

"So, I bought a fridge, a small one, one that my machine could barely lift. Then I weakened my machine and made it my goal to lift the fridge once more."

"At first, I could scarcely move it, as though it were rooted to the ground. But over time I could push it, then drag it, and finally lift it."

"Then I weakened my machine again and started once more. I repeated this until one day I moved to weaken my machine and realized it was no longer on."

"From that day I grew stronger, and now I walk with ease. Though I may not run, or swim, or climb, I can walk, and that is enough for me."

You were astounded by all you had heard. Profusely you thanked them, and you went on your way.

And the very next day, you stood before a mountain. You placed one hand upon it, then the next, for you wished for more than to walk. You wished to run, to swim, to climb! Let the machine walk for you, letting it be your crutch as you push your body to act on your will.

And slowly, your pitiful attempts bore fruit! From scrabbling against the face of the mountain, paddling weakly within the embrace of water, and moving slower than when you walked in your attempts to run, you achieved your aims.

And one day, along the way, your machine failed. Loyal yet worn, the creation meant to follow you from birth to death could not keep up, and as with all things, though it was meant to last, it failed. You paused, you mourned it and buried it within your heart, and then you continued. To run, to swim, to climb. To walk.