Hand of Creation Prologue

Chapter 1: Reality

There are some things in this world that never change.  Ordinary people wandering the streets, greeting those they bump into, all smiles and happy words.  All lies.

The world in which we live is not what we pretend it to be.  We as people are not who we pretend to be.  It is a world built upon one lie after another, illusions that we weave to conceal the truth, and masks we wear for how we wish to be seen.  It is in our world where lies and deceit are the norm, and honesty is viewed as a liability that cannot be afforded by anyone who wishes to get ahead.

Is it any wonder then, that someone recognized these illusions, and decided to make them more then just figurative?

But, I am getting ahead of myself.  I have a tendency to do that, but don’t tell anyone, as it would cost me one of my own masks.  This is not a tale to change the world, examining the failings of humanity and giving those of you who hear it a chance to change.  No, this is a tale about me, and the people that I once spent and currently spend time with.  This is the tale as I remember it, and it will be expressed as such.  Everyone lies, even I do, so I may have already altered my memories of these events into the illusion that I call truth.  Whether you believe a word I say is up to you, I have no power to force you to believe me.  Well, actually I do, but I’m getting ahead of myself again.  I suppose I should start more around the beginning…


* * *


To start, my name is Dorian.  Just Dorian.  Last names hold no value, not unless you intend to revive the feudal class system, in which case feel free to cling to your last name and its titles.  I have no desire to return to that system of government, so just Dorian will serve you fine.

I’m twenty-seven, and a guy currently looking for some gainful employment.  I’m no movie star when it comes to my looks, but I do just fine with them.  People tend to compliment me on the symmetry of my features, and people tend to get lost in my blue eyes, even more so now than before.  I’ve let my hair get away from me a bit, and I don’t shave as often as I should, but my hair is a light enough brown that people don’t usually comment on the stubble.

My current residence is a tiny little apartment in a low-end neighborhood.  You don’t need to know which city.  Too many people are looking for me, but that is again too much information out of context.  The rent isn’t too bad, so long as I have a source of income, and the apartment meets the basic needs of my existence.  My neighbor is a young woman named Caroline.  She’s a natural beauty, with stunning dark eyes and light hair, and is too interested in me for her own good.  She reminds me when rent is due, and lets me maintain contact with real people.  If she knew what I was however, I bet she would run screaming for the hills just like everyone else.

The truth is that I am a magic user, a Magus.

Now, I know what you are thinking: ‘Magic, that only exists in fairy tales and the kids’ imaginations.  Do you honestly think I’d believe that load of crap’?  I don’t blame you.  Not too long ago I would have thought the exact same thing.  I wasn’t born with this curse after all, I acquired it after meeting a man by the name of Dr. Jeremiah Abel.

Dr. Abel was a man of vision.  He was a scientist that specialized in genetic recombination and gene splicing.  In other words, he would take plants and animals and alter their DNA, allowing them to better serve a specific purpose.  Talk to him and you found yourself hanging on his every word, trapped in his cold brown eyes.  He had the tendency to run his hand through his short cut brown hair when he found something amusing or was focusing very intensely.  There is also a rumor that the only reason he kept his short sideburns neat, and face perfectly shaved was because he received an adoring letter from a fan of his work asking him to.

You see, with the discovery of a renewable alcohol fuel source and development of an aggressive crop that could provide food for much of the planet, people returned to worrying about truly important problems in their lives; such as if their nose was too large, their hairline too far back, or their breasts too small.  Dr. Abel was there to help humanity with these problems, patenting a form of Genetic Surgery to replace the need for plastic surgery.  By manipulating the patient’s genetic code he could give them the desired changes without inserting foreign inorganic material into their bodies, and without any scarring.  The procedures were incredibly expensive, but celebrities and the wealthy praised Dr. Abel as though he were the Messiah himself.

A slight aside on that note: despite his name, Dr. Abel was decidedly not religious.  During one appearance on a late-night talk show, the host asked Dr. Abel if he believed in God.  He chuckled, ran a hand through his hair, and replied:
“No, I do not believe in God, but whether it exists or not is irrelevant.  If there truly is a higher power that created us, and allows all of the atrocities that we humans commit against each other and this planet go unpunished, then it does not deserve our reverence anyway.  God either does not exist, or does not care about the worthless mistake of an organism that he created with us.”

The host and audience were quite shocked, and there was a very long pause before one of the crew recovered enough to switch to commercial.  That statement made many religious groups very angry, which resulted in a number of lawsuits being leveled against Dr. Abel, which he settled out of court.  The fact that the corporation behind his research and genetic surgery clinics is named Hand of Creation probably didn’t help either.

The next step in Dr. Abel’s work on human genetics was something beyond what anyone thought possible.  He was well aware of the degree of corruption and lies that dominate the world.  It had become so ingrained into the fabric of society, that to remove it using any normal means would cause the world to come crumbling down.  The only way that society could be saved, as far as he was concerned, would be magic, that impossible force beyond human comprehension.  The ability to do the impossible was all that was needed.  But in order to accomplish this, he would need test subjects capable of controlling an illusion so convincing it was spawned into reality.  But perhaps I have gotten ahead of myself once again, yet it is needed to get ahead of myself in order to go back to the beginning.  That is how deep the illusions run.

Simply stated, I suppose, it all began when I was sixteen.