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Basis
by Rob Perrier
[Rob has worked on the cutting edge of technology for decades, including co-founding a technology startup acquired by one of the biggest and most forward-reaching tech companies in the world. As a student of history, he steeps his stories in lessons from bygone eras and recent discord. His fantasy and science fiction stories have been published in collections and online for nearly a decade. Visit Rob's site at RobPerrier.com or find him on FaceBook. ]

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​Previous  Shorts
Basis by Rob Perrier
​Blade or Mist by Nichole Galle
​Reaching Out by Judith Pratt
​Observe by Beth Robertson
​Darkside Management by Tom Howard
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Cera removed the spent basis from the lathe and returned it to a rack at the far side of the shop. “Early lunch?” Across their shared workbench, her partner didn’t seem to hear. She strode back to her side, and dropped her hands hard enough to send a jolt through the expanse of hickory. “Tens, are you ready to go get some lunch?”

“You finished already?” Tens looked up from his maps, blueprints, and scrap paper filled with elder runes and geometric calculations.

Cera shook her head. “Not even close. This rush job threw off my power use. I’ve blown through a whole day’s worth plus.”

Tens looked around the octagonal room. Every chin-high recharging stand, excepting the three behind him, emitted nothing but the barest hint of light. “Go ahead and use one of mine. I brought extra from home. Just drop it in my bag when you’re through with it.”

“Do you go home and sit in the dark every night? If I had to bring in even one of mine, I’d be sweating in the dark eating a cold dinner with nothing to do.” Cera had never seen Tens’ place, but it must have been huge or in a top-grade power zone as he always preferred to take his basis cores home at night.

Tens smiled and bent back to his calculations. “No, I eek out every bit at home by being smart. No need for everything to work off magic.” He pointed without looking to the half-built device dominating Cera’s workspace. “I understand a jeweler needing an illusion lock for their vault. But all the people who want them for their homes when an old-fashioned lock and key work fine?”

Shrugging, Cera strode to Tens’ side of the room and examined the three fully-charged cores. They were all larger-than-average crystals encased with his signature angular sheaths. The slants and runes in the silver casings glittered in a way that Cera thought begged for immediate use. She picked the crystal shot through with emerald veins that reminded her of an Aelph rune - if you squinted at it the right way.

Inserting it into the lathe’s brass and silver power port, she asked, “How much space is this one going to need?”

Tens looked between his math and the blueprints of the jewelry store, “They’ve got a few other devices in the shop, but they’re in a mid to high powered part of town. Looks like six feet four and three quarters inches if they limit themselves to opening and closing the vault a dozen times a day.”

“The specs called for a max of ten. Should be fine.”

“I’m sure we’ll still get a complaint six months from now. They’ll need to open it fifteen times. Or some idiot with a powered shield or one of those new cosmo-projection watches will stand too close for hours and it won’t recharge.” Tens gave a sharp exhale and looked at his partner from beneath raised eyebrows.

Cera laughed, “Be careful or someone might think you want the return of the wizards.”

Tens knew he shouldn’t be so pointed around Cera. She was the best engineer he’d ever worked with. She could build out his designs in half the time it would have taken him. Which left him the enviable task of selecting and creating a custom basis for every new project. It was the best part of any job; finding the perfect crystal to match the magic it powered, and designing a cage to capture and optimize the currents. A basis crafted with art and precision could triple the power of a lock like this one.

The dozen they used around the workspace he shared with Cera were nothing more than raw power to be used and re-used in the workshop. The custom cores he designed to reside inside a project like this were more akin to a beating heart. It was as close as anyone was allowed to come to the spell work of the old days.

Across the square, the Grand Crystal Clock Tower sang out the noon song as if to emphasize Tens’ thoughts. His grandmother had been one of the architects on the crowning achievement that defined the city. She’d reminisced every time they’d passed that it had never lost a second and never failed to sing out the time in her sublime song. Tens thought of it as his grandmother’s voice amplified and distilled by the magic that produced it.

“Now can we get lunch?” Cera’s voice had reached the pitch where Tens didn’t dare say no. She pulled the newly emptied green-veined basis, dropped it into his satchel, placed her hand on his shoulder, and, in her sweetest voice, asked, “Do we have time to walk to the noodle place?”

With the rush job they did not have time to walk to noodles, but they did anyway. Returning gorged and happy, they passed through Sovereignty Park and under the Clock Tower. Tens looked up to see the glowing pillar that was his grandmother’s great achievement. Within the silver column at the southeast corner were eighty-two aligned and sequenced crystals which due to the tower’s precise location, height, and raw power, kept the great mechanism in motion and dampened any other magic within a hundred feet.

Catching the direction of Tens’ stare, Cera mused, “Yah, I’m still amazed by it too.”

Polishing and assembling the mechanism and housing for the project took up all of Cera’s afternoon. She found it satisfying to put all the pieces together. Magic flashed around the workshop as single runes etched on fragments came together to form the lyric that made up the illusion lock. They had made a dozen of these devices over the last six months, but she still found the process of completing the puzzle and containing the magic exhilarating.

Tens spent his hours after lunch creating the sheath for the yellow-orange crystal that would power the lock. Cutting and fitting from a single sheet of silver devoured the two basis cores he had remaining. Etching would require fresh power. He reached into his bag for one that was charged, and commenced with the inscribing.

Tens felt Cera’s eyes on him as he began the work. He didn’t mind. It was one of the few things that separated an architect from an engineer. Finishing with a quadrant, he offered, “I’ve got another hour or so. If you’re done, you should go.”

She didn’t reply. Tens completed a line of augmentation scroll and looked up. “It’s fine…”

Cera was at her station staring, not with awe or interest, but with eyes wide and mouth agape. The completed lock was shoved to one side, and in front of her was Tens’ satchel. Everything had been emptied from it: notes, maps, a hat he kept in a side pocket in case of rain. Everything.

“I saw you pull that basis from your bag.” She gazed from Tens to the glowing core.

“Right, it’s the one I brought from home.” He put down the tool and let his hands fall to the arms of his chair.

“You pulled it from your bag, and I thought it was odd that you had two with so much green in the crystal. It’s pretty rare.” She made her way to the end of the desk, her eyes never leaving the basis, “Then I finished, and started watching you, and I thought I saw the same pattern, the Aelph.” She brought her hand up to point, but couldn’t finish the motion.

“I’d never noticed they were so similar. Funny.” Tens watched as Cera completed the circuit around their desk, reached out, and pulled the basis from the etcher. She turned it in her hands as if it might burst into flames.

“I emptied your bag, and there isn’t another one in there. You didn’t bring one from home. It’s the same one, Tens.” She wrapped her right hand around it and looked him in the eye, “How did you do it?”

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Tens rose from his high-backed stool. Cera backed up two steps.

She pointed the basis at him, “It’s not allowed. It’s not legal.”

“I’m not sure what you are thinking, but…”

“Wizarding! It’s not legal, Tens.” A tear slid down her cheek.

“There aren’t any wizards. They were all executed or died in prison a hundred years ago.” He glanced out the window toward the Grand Clock.

Still pointing the basis at him, she pled, “Then how? Tens?”

She was shaking and backing toward the door. Tens held up his hands, “Cera, please. It’s different. I’m not doing what they did.”

Taking another step back, Cera yelled and hurled the basis at his head.

Half way between them, with a blink of his eye, Tens stopped the crystal in midair. It spun lazily, as if it might hang there forever. As he approached Cera, he grabbed it with his left hand and placed his right around the back of her neck. Every muscle in her body froze.

“I didn’t think you’d notice. I charged it when I reached into the bag to grab it.” Tears continued to stream down her face. A pitying smile formed on Tens’ lips as light erupted in his eyes.
...
“I’m sorry I had to leave early yesterday. Wasn’t feeling right. Did you have to work through lunch?” Cera grabbed the latest blueprints and began laying out the parts she would need for the day.

“No, I went and got noodles. You’d already done all of the hard work.” Tens studied Cera. “Are you feeling better?”

Cera smiled, “Completely. Whatever it was came and went in one night.”

“Good.” Tens’ eyes lingered on his engineer for a few seconds longer. Satisfied, he went back to work.
​
The morning song sounded from the Grand Clock. Tens did his best to ignore the grating clamor he thought of as his grandmother’s voice.
 

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