I was in the kitchen preparing lunch when I heard voices in the living room. Two voices - Katharina speaking in a low, urgent tone, and a second male voice that I recognized immediately.
Markus Dimitri.
I smiled inwardly. Markus was exactly the kind of person I had hoped Katharina would eventually bring into our little discovery. A brilliant theoretical physicist specializing in quantum mechanics and field theory, he was one of the few people at MIT who could keep up with both my neural programming and Katharina's linguistic analyses.
Most importantly, he was curious to the point of obsession and open-minded enough to accept evidence even when it contradicted his established beliefs.
"...I'm not making this up, Markus," I heard Katharina say as I approached the kitchen door. "I know how it sounds, but you have to see it."
"Kat, you're telling me that you've found empirical evidence of matter manipulation through structured vocal commands. This violates at least three fundamental laws of thermodynamics."
Markus's voice carried the patient but skeptical tone he used when he thought someone was being irrational. It was the same tone he had used when I had first suggested that my neural algorithms might be developing emergent behavior.
"I know it violates," Katharina replied. "That's why I need you to see it. As a physicist, you can spot any tricks or illusions I might be missing."
I walked out of the kitchen carrying a tray of sandwiches, feigning surprise at the sight of Markus sitting on the couch in the middle of the science lab Katharina had set up.
"Markus! I didn't know you were coming."
Markus Dimitri was a thirty-five-year-old man with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard, wearing his trademark leather jacket over a quantum physics T-shirt. He was Greek-American, the son of immigrants, who had become one of the sharpest minds in MIT's physics department.
"Kai," he said, standing to greet me. "Katharina called me urgently. She said you'd made a discovery that I 'had to see for myself before I believed it.' She also mentioned something about you developing abilities that defy known physics."
I placed the tray on the table, noticing how Markus's eyes scanned all the scientific equipment Katharina had set up.
"She... shouldn't have said that," he said, feigning discomfort. "We're still in the early stages of the research."
"Oh, no," Katharina said quickly. "Markus is perfect for this. We need a physicist's perspective. And you know we can trust him."
It was true. Markus was one of the few people at MIT with whom both Katharina and I had a genuine friendship. He had been my study group partner during advanced mathematics courses, and he had collaborated with Katharina on projects about natural language processing applied to physics data.
"Okay," he said, as if reluctantly. "But Markus, what you're about to see... is going to challenge much of what you know about how the universe works."
"Classic attempt at psychological manipulation," Markus replied with a smile. "Preparing the subject to accept extraordinary evidence by creating expectations. But okay, Kat said it's reproducible and measurable. Show me."
Katharina moved to her control station, turning on cameras and sensors with practiced efficiency.
"Markus, I want you to monitor these instruments while Kai demonstrates. EEG for brain activity, spectrum analyzer for vocal frequencies, electromagnetic meter for any energy emissions, high-speed camera for motion capture."
"Impressive setup," Markus admitted, examining the equipment. "You're really treating this as a formal science experiment."
"Because it's a formal scientific experiment," Katharina replied. "Now look at the readings."
I positioned myself in front of the table where a pen was surrounded by sensors. Markus positioned himself where he could see both the pen and the monitoring instruments.
"VEXIS THALAR ZEPHON," disse claramente.
The pen rose from the table and began to float.
Markus stood completely still for about five seconds, his eyes flickering rapidly between the floating pen and the instrument displays.
"What the hell is this?" he said finally.
"Language, Markus," Katharina said automatically, but she was smiling at his reaction.
"Excuse me, but... what the hell is this?" he corrected, approaching the floating pen. "There are no wires. There are no detectable magnetic fields. There are no air currents. The pen is literally suspended in midair with no visible physical support."
He began to walk around the pen, examining it from every possible angle.
"Could it be a hologram?" he asked.
"No," Katharina replied. "I've tested it. It's a real physical object. You can touch it."
Markus cautiously reached out and touched the pen. It moved slightly at his touch, clearly real and solid.
"Okay," he said, his voice taking on the focused tone he used when faced with complex problems. "Assuming it's not some elaborate trick—and I'll check that thoroughly—how the hell is that possible?"
"THYSS ZELAK," he said, and the pen returned to the table.
Markus immediately ran to the instruments, checking all the readings Katharina had captured.
"The EEG patterns show anomalous activity during vocalization," he murmured, studying the data. "Specific frequencies in the vocalizations correlate with onset and offset of the effect. But there is no detectable electromagnetic emission that would cause levitation."
He turned to look at me with an expression that mixed scientific fascination with complete confusion.
"Kai, this violates conservation of energy. There is no detectable energy source to sustain the levitation. Where does the energy come from?"
"We don't know yet," I replied. "That's why we need a physicist on the team."
"Team?" he repeated.
"Kat was able to reproduce the effect," I explained. "Apparently it can be taught."
Markus's eyes widened. "She managed to do that too?"
"I want to show you," Katharina said, standing in front of a second pen. "VEXIS THALAR ZEPHON."
His pen also rose and began to float.
Markus stared at two pens floating simultaneously, his scientific mind clearly struggling to process what he was seeing.
"This is... this is reproducible," he said slowly. "It's not a unique skill. It's a phenomenon that can be learned and replicated."
"Exactly," he said. "And we want to understand how."
Markus sat down heavily, still staring at the floating pens.
"If this is real - and all the evidence suggests it is - then we are looking at a discovery that rewrites fundamental physics. It implies that there are forces or fields operating that our current science does not detect or understand."
"Or," Katharina suggested, "that there are aspects of human consciousness that can interact with matter in ways we have not documented."
"Mind-matter interaction," Markus murmured. "There are theories in quantum mechanics about the role of consciousness in the collapse of the wave function, but this..." he gestured to the floating pens, "this is macroscopic. This is a direct, measurable effect."
"THYSS ZELAK," Katharina and I said simultaneously, and both pens returned to their respective desks.
"Okay," Markus said, standing up with new energy. "I need to understand this. I want to see all the data you've collected. I want to reproduce the experiments under controlled conditions. And most importantly, I want to understand the underlying physical mechanism."
It was exactly the reaction I had expected. Markus was not the kind of person who would dismiss evidence because it contradicted established theory. He was the kind of person who would dive deep to understand how established theory needed to be expanded.
"There's more," he said. "It's not just levitation. I can demonstrate modification of matter, acceleration of biological processes, manipulation of physical properties."
"Show me everything," he said immediately.
I spent the next hour demonstrating different aspects of the capabilities, with Markus meticulously documenting each experiment. He asked detailed technical questions about each effect, theories about possible mechanisms, suggestions for further testing.
"Molecular modification is the most disturbing," he said after I had transformed a piece of lead into gold through structured commands. "It requires altering the atomic structure. Where is the energy for nuclear rearrangement coming from?"
"We don't know," I admitted. "It's one of many questions we need to investigate."
"And the biological effects," he continued, examining the plant I had modified, "suggest control over complex biochemical processes. How are you targeting effects to specific cells?"
"Apparently through focused intention combined with structured linguistic commands," Katharina replied. "But we don't understand the mechanism."
Markus was silent for a long moment, processing everything he had seen.
"Do you know what this means?" he said finally.
"Enlighten us," he said.
"If these capabilities can be learned and refined, if they can be applied in a controlled and targeted way... you have discovered not just a new physical phenomenon, but an entirely new technology."
He began to pace back and forth, his mind clearly racing through implications.
"Medical applications are obvious - targeted healing, tissue regeneration, disease elimination. But there is much more. Molecular manufacturing. Transmutation of elements. Energy manipulation at fundamental levels."
"What about the social implications?" I asked.
"Revolutionary," he replied without hesitation. "If these capabilities can be democratized, every economic structure based on resource scarcity becomes obsolete. If only a few people have access..." he paused.
"They become a new ruling class," Katharina added.
"Exactly. That's why responsible development is crucial."
It was perfect. Markus was coming to the same conclusions I had planted in Katharina—that these capacities were too powerful to be left to chance, that they needed controlled development, that they required responsible leadership.
"Markus," he said, "can I trust you to keep this confidential while we develop appropriate protocols?"
"Of course. But Kai, you can't keep this a secret indefinitely. A discovery of this magnitude... belongs to humanity."
"I agree," he said. "But it needs to be rolled out in the right way. Introduced gradually, with appropriate safeguards."
"As?"
"We are thinking of establishing a dedicated institution," Katharina explained. "A place where these capabilities can be studied, developed, and taught responsibly."
"An academy," Markus said slowly. "For training in... what would you call it?"
"Applied arcane arts," I suggested. "Or reality manipulation through linguistic interface."
"Magic," Markus said with a wry smile. "You've discovered real scientific magic."
"Terminology is less important than responsible application," he said.
Markus nodded, then looked at me with a serious expression.
"Kai, I need to ask you an important question. How did you discover this? What was the first sign that you had these abilities?"
It was the question I had been waiting for.
"It started with my neural analysis project," I explained, using the story I had developed. "Algorithms that were detecting impossible patterns in medical data. When I dug deeper, I discovered correlations between certain linguistic structures and anomalous brain activity."
"And when he tried to reproduce these linguistic structures..."
"The effects began to manifest," I added. "Small ones at first—objects flickering, temperature changes. Then more dramatic as I refined the techniques."
It was a plausible narrative that connected my legitimate research with the discovery of magical capabilities, without revealing that I had literally hacked into the operating system of reality.
"Fascinating," Markus murmured. "It suggests that abilities may be latent in more people than we realize. Perhaps everyone has the potential, but has simply never been exposed to the right linguistic triggers."
"Exactly our theory," said Katharina.
"Which brings us back to the issue of academia," he said. "If you're going to teach this, you need rigorous protocols. Candidate assessment, structured curriculum progression, safety measures..."
"And continuous scientific supervision," added Katharina.
"Have you thought about location?" Markus asked.
"Private island," I replied. "Controlled environment, free from outside interference, self-sufficient in resources."
"Which can conveniently be created through the very abilities you have discovered," Markus noted.
"Conveniently, yes."
He was quiet for a moment, processing all the implications.
"You know you're going to need a team, right? You can't manage something like this alone. You need educators, researchers, ethicists, psychologists..."
"We are aware," he said. "But first, we need a core group of people who fully understand what we are dealing with."
"An inner circle," he said.
"Exactly."
Markus looked me straight in the eyes, and I saw the exact moment he made his decision.
"I want to be involved," he said. "As a physicist, as a researcher, as part of this inner circle. This is the most important discovery in human history, and I want to help guide it in the right direction."
I smiled - this time genuinely.
"Welcome to the team, Markus."
And with that, I had my second recruit. A brilliant physicist who would bring additional scientific credibility to the project, who would help develop sound theories for magical capabilities, and who would become an advocate for the controlled, hierarchical approach I was promoting.
Markus didn't know, of course, that every demonstration he had witnessed, every insight he had developed, every conclusion he had reached—it had all been carefully orchestrated to get him exactly where I wanted him to be.
He thought he was joining a revolutionary scientific collaboration.
In fact, he had just enlisted as a teacher at my mind control academy.
And he was completely thrilled with the privilege.
That's exactly how I wanted everyone to react.
After all the demonstrations and theoretical discussions, Markus inevitably came to the question I was waiting for.
"Can I try?" he asked, looking at a simple pen Katharina had placed on the table. "I mean, if this can be taught, if Katharina managed to learn it... I need to experience it myself to fully understand."
"Of course," he said, feigning hesitation. "But it may take time. Katharina had the advantage of her linguistic training."
"I see. But as a scientist, I need direct experience. External observation only takes me so far."
Katharina positioned herself next to the monitoring instruments, clearly eager to document Markus's first attempt. Her eyes were bright with scientific excitement—she was about to observe a third person potentially developing the same capabilities.
"Remember the frequency analysis," she said to Markus. "The vocalizations need to be precise, authoritative, with specific emphasis on consonant syllables."
Markus stood in front of the pen, studying it intently as if he could discover its secrets through visual observation.
"VEXIS THALAR ZEPHON," he said, trying to imitate my intonation.
Nothing happened.
"Try with more confidence in your voice," Katharina suggested. "The data show a correlation between vocal authority and amplitude of effects."
"VEXIS THALAR ZEPHON," Markus repeated, more firmly this time.
The pen trembled slightly, but did not move.
"Interesting," he murmured, examining the pen. "There was a subtle response. I can feel... something. Like there's a connection trying to form."
It was feedback from the system detecting his attempts, but still not authorized access. I was deliberately letting him try unsuccessfully, building frustration that would make the eventual success more meaningful.
"Keep trying," I encouraged. "It may take several tries to establish the initial connection."
Markus spent the next ten minutes trying variations of the command, adjusting tone, intensity, timing. Each attempt produced subtle reactions—the pen vibrating, flickering, or moving microscopically—but never complete levitation.
"Fifteenth attempt," Katharina announced, meticulously documenting each effort. "EEG patterns show increasing activity in regions associated with intentional focus."
"I can feel myself getting closer," Markus said, slightly frustrated but still determined. "It's like trying to remember a word that's on the tip of your tongue. The feeling is there, but I can't quite access it."
It was exactly the description I was expecting. The system was responding to your attempts with sensory feedback, but without granting you actual access.
"Twenty-fifth attempt," Katharina continued, her voice thick with scientific fascination. "Neural activity is intensifying. It's as if his brain is learning new patterns of connectivity."
Markus was now completely absorbed in the challenge. His obsessive personality—the same one that made him such a brilliant physicist—was fully engaged. He would not give up until he succeeded or until he collapsed from exhaustion.
"Fortieth attempt," Katharina announced an hour later. "Markus, maybe we should take a break. Your stress levels are elevated."
"No," he said firmly. "I'm feeling progress. Each attempt is getting stronger. It's a matter of finding the right frequency."
I watched him keep trying, his scientific determination growing with each partial failure. It was fascinating to see a brilliant mind applying rigorous methodology to something that was essentially a programming interface in disguise.
"Fiftieth attempt," Katharina said, now clearly concerned about Markus's obsession. "The neural patterns are showing fatigue, but also interesting adaptation."
"I still feel like I'm almost there," Markus insisted. "It's like solving a complex equation - you know you're on the right track even before you get to the solution."
He was right, in a sense. The system was recording his attempts, learning his vocal patterns, mapping his neural architecture. Each failed attempt was building a more complete profile that I could use when deciding to grant access.
"Seventy-fifth attempt," Katharina announced two hours later. Her voice now carried admiration for Markus's persistence, mixed with scientific concern. "Markus, this is extraordinary. Your brain activity is showing changes that would normally take weeks of training to develop."
"I can feel the difference," he replied, sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Each attempt is building on the last. It's like my brain is developing new circuits in real time."
It was partly true. My interface was gradually mapping his neurology, identifying the optimal pathways for eventual connection. But the real work was being done by the system, not by his brain's natural adaptation.
"Ninetieth attempt," Katharina said, her voice now filled with amazement. "Kai, his neural patterns are catching up with yours. It's as if he's converging on the same type of brain activity."
Markus was now completely exhausted, but he refused to stop. Beads of sweat ran down his face, his hands trembled slightly from fatigue, but his eyes remained focused on the pen with laser intensity.
"One more," he murmured. "I can feel I'm almost there."
It was time. Ninety-nine attempts had provided enough data to create a complete profile. Markus had demonstrated total commitment, scientific persistence, and complete absorption in the process. He was mentally and emotionally invested in success.
It was the perfect time to grant access.
"System," I muttered silently, "authorize new user. Access level: basic. User: Markus Dimitri. Profile based on ninety-nine calibration attempts."
I felt the familiar feeling of registration, this time setting specific permissions for Markus:
User settings for Markus Dimitri:
Access: Basic Levitation Commands
Allowed objects: Small, inorganic items
Maximum effects: Simple levitation, controlled movement
Locks: All advanced capabilities
Monitoring: Complete record of all activities
Notes: User has demonstrated exceptional persistence, suitable for gradual development
"Hundredth attempt," Katharina announced, her voice full of anticipation.
"VEXIS THALAR ZEPHON," Markus said, this time with the authority that came from two hours of focused frustration finally being released.
The pen rose from the table gently and began to float.
The silence that followed was electric. Markus stood completely still, staring at the floating pen as if he couldn't believe he had finally done it.
"I did it," he whispered. "I really did it."
Katharina burst into silent celebration, her eyes shining with pure scientific excitement. She ran between the instruments, checking readings, documenting the historic moment of a third person demonstrating the capabilities.
"Markus!" she exclaimed. "The neural patterns are perfect! You've managed to establish the same kind of connection that Kai and I developed!"
Markus was now smiling with a mixture of exhaustion and scientific triumph. "It's incredible," he said, still focusing on the floating pen. "I can feel the connection. It's like there's a direct line between my intention and the object."
"How do you feel?" I asked, genuinely curious about his experience with my interface.
"Empowering," he replied immediately. "But also… humbling. It's like discovering that the universe is much more malleable than we ever imagined. That consciousness can directly influence physical reality in ways that science has yet to comprehend."
It was exactly the interpretation I wanted him to develop. Not an artificial system, but a natural ability being unlocked.
"Try moving the pen," suggested Katharina, still documenting everything.
Markus concentrated, and the pen began to move slowly left, then right, then in small circles. His control was initially shaky, but quickly improved as he practiced.
"It's like learning to ride a bike," he noted. "Once you get the hang of it, it becomes more and more intuitive."
"THYSS ZELAK," he said finally, and the pen settled back on the table.
Markus immediately sat down heavily, clearly exhausted but elated.
"Kai," he said, looking at me with new respect, "now I truly understand what you've discovered. This isn't just new science—it's a fundamental shift in human capability."
"And now that you've experienced it yourself?" I asked.
"I am now convinced that this needs to be developed responsibly," he said without hesitation. "Power like this... has the potential to transform civilization or destroy it, depending on how it is managed."
"Exactly our conclusion," said Katharina.
Markus looked around at all the scientific equipment, at the two of us who had introduced him to this impossible reality, at the pen that had just defied physics in response to his vocal commands.
"When do we start building this gym?" he asked.
I smiled internally. Perfect.
Within a matter of hours, Markus had gone from skeptical observer to enthusiastic participant to committed advocate of exactly the kind of controlled development I was promoting.
He didn't know that every struggle he had experienced, every moment of frustration, every eventual triumph had been carefully orchestrated to bring him to exactly this psychological state.
He thought he had discovered natural human ability through scientific persistence.
In reality, he had been granted user access to my proprietary reality manipulation system, complete with built-in limitations that would keep him dependent on my infrastructure while making him feel empowered.
It was perfect manipulation disguised as personal conquest.
"Welcome to the team, Markus," he said loudly.
But inwardly, I was thinking: Welcome to my academy, Professor Dimitri. You will be an excellent addition to my faculty.
And the best part was, he was completely grateful for the privilege.
Exactly how I wanted them all to be.
Two weeks had passed since Markus had joined our little research circle, and my apartment had essentially become a 24-hour science lab. Katharina and Markus were so absorbed in their investigation that they rarely left the room, surviving on takeout and a shared obsession with understanding the mechanisms behind what we had discovered.
The sound of the doorbell pulled me out of my own thoughts. I walked to the door to receive our third Chinese takeout order of the day - the routine had quickly settled in as it became clear that neither of us wanted to waste time cooking or going out to eat.
"Thank you," he said to the delivery man, taking the bags of hot food. It was always the same: enough food for three people who were expending mental energy at levels that bordered on obsessive.
When I returned to the room, I heard Katharina and Markus in the middle of an intense technical discussion. They were sitting surrounded by stacks of papers, multiple laptops open, and hand-drawn diagrams covering nearly every available surface.
"...but the fundamental question remains," Katharina was saying, gesturing with a pen at a complex diagram on the wall. "How do specific linguistic structures manage to interface with physical systems in a way that transcends our current understanding of causality?"
Markus was hunched over an equation he had scribbled on a sheet of paper, making quick calculations with the focused intensity I had come to recognize as his problem-solving style.
"I have a theory," he replied, circling some numbers. "If we assume that consciousness operates at quantum levels—which there is growing evidence to suggest—then perhaps we are looking at a direct interface between conscious intention and quantum vacuum fluctuations."
I quietly placed the food on the kitchen table, not wanting to interrupt. It was fascinating to hear their brilliant minds creating elaborate theories to explain phenomena that I knew were simply interfaces for my proprietary system.
"Explain," Katharina said, turning from the diagram to focus completely on Markus.
"Okay, consider this," Markus began, standing up and walking over to the whiteboard we'd installed on the wall. "We know that the quantum vacuum isn't really empty. It's constantly bubbling with virtual particles appearing and disappearing. Energy fluctuations that usually cancel each other out."
He began drawing diagrams as he spoke, his hands moving quickly to capture complex concepts.
"Now, if consciousness—specifically consciousness structured through specific linguistic patterns—could interface with these fluctuations, it could theoretically direct them. Instead of them randomly canceling each other out, they could be directed to produce macroscopic effects."
Katharina frowned, processing. "But that requires language to have direct physical properties. Not just as a carrier of information, but as an active force."
"Exactly!" Markus said, clearly excited. "And that's where your research becomes crucial. You've documented that specific phonetic patterns correlate with specific effects. This suggests that linguistic structure is not arbitrary - it corresponds directly to underlying physical structure."
Katharina began to pace back and forth, her mind clearly racing through implications.
"If you are right, then we are looking at the discovery that language is literally a creative force. Not just metaphorically, but physically. Words as tools for direct manipulation of reality."
"Yes, but only certain words," Markus corrected. "The structures you discovered have specific mathematical properties. Harmonic ratios, resonant frequencies, patterns that correspond to fundamental structures in physics."
They were creating an impressively sophisticated scientific theory to explain my magical interface. It was like watching two geniuses trying to reverse engineer a video game, creating elaborate explanations for mechanics that the programmer had simply hard-coded.
"But there's another layer," Katharina continued, turning back to her own diagrams. "The question of the learning curve. Why are some people able to access these capabilities more easily than others?"
"Neuroplasticity," Markus replied immediately. "People with certain types of neural training—linguists, musicians, mathematicians—have already developed pathways that are compatible with these interfaces."
"Or," Katharina suggested, "there is a genetic predisposition. Variations in brain structure that make some individuals naturally more receptive."
It was interesting how close they were getting to the truth without realizing it. There were indeed differences in receptivity—but not for genetic or neurological reasons. Simply because I controlled who had access and when.
"This brings us back to the fundamental ethical question," Markus said, his voice growing more serious. "If these capacities can be developed, but only by certain people, we are creating a new kind of inequality."
"Unless," Katharina replied thoughtfully, "we develop methodologies to expand access. Training programs that can help people develop the necessary neural pathways."
"An academy," Markus said, and he could see them both getting excited again about institutional implications.
"But not just any academy," Katharina elaborated. "It would need to be specifically designed to develop these capabilities. Curriculum based on a deep understanding of both linguistic and physical principles."
Markus returned to the whiteboard, beginning to sketch out organizational charts.
"Think about it systematically. First year: foundation in linguistics and quantum physics. Understanding the theoretical framework before any practical application."
"Second year," Katharina continued, "controlled introduction to basic techniques. Simple levitation, basic object manipulation. Building confidence and familiarity."
"Third year: specialization tracks," Markus added. "Medical applications, materials science, energy manipulation. Different paths for different skills."
"And fourth year: research projects," Katharina concluded. "Students working to advance understanding while demonstrating mastery."
It was perfect. They were designing exactly the kind of curriculum I had envisioned for my academy, but thinking it was their idea. Even better, they were creating the scientific justification for the hierarchical structure I needed.
"But there's the question of containment," Markus said, his voice lowering. "How do we ensure that knowledge isn't misused? How do we prevent it from spreading to people who might use it destructively?"
"Psychological screening," Katharina replied immediately. "Extensive assessment of character, motivations, emotional stability. Only admitting people who demonstrate appropriate responsibility."
"And continuous monitoring," Markus added. "Not just admission standards, but continuous assessment. Ability to revoke access if needed."
"Which brings up an interesting question," Katharina said thoughtfully. "Could access really be revoked? If these capabilities are learned neural patterns, how do you unlearn them?"
It was an excellent question that touched on exactly the control mechanisms I had built into my system. But they didn't need to know that revocation was simply a matter of removing user permissions.
"Maybe there are timeout mechanisms built into the process," Markus theorized. "Like muscle memory that fades without practice. If training stops and without reinforcement..."
"Or feedback mechanisms," Katharina suggested. "If the environment does not provide adequate support structures, capabilities naturally atrophy."
They were unwittingly describing exactly how my system worked—user access that could be revoked, capabilities that required continuous connection to my infrastructure, dependencies that ensured loyalty.
"This actually raises a fundamental question about the nature of these capabilities," Markus said, turning to theoretical considerations. "Are they truly individual abilities, or are they more like... an interface to a shared resource?"
Katharina's eyes widened. "You mean how to access distributed network instead of developing personal power?"
"Exactly. If consciousness interfaces with the quantum field, perhaps the field itself is a shared resource. Individual training develops access, but real capabilities come from tapping into something larger."
It was remarkable how close they were getting to the truth without realizing it. They were describing my reality manipulation system as if it were a natural phenomenon, creating elaborate theories to explain an interface I had deliberately designed.
"That would explain the consistency," Katharina said excitedly. "Why the same commands work for different people. Why effects follow predictable patterns. It's not each person developing unique skills—it's everyone learning to access the same underlying system."
"And that would also explain patterns of throttling," Markus added. "If there is shared resource, there would naturally be built-in constraints. Not everyone can access unlimited power simultaneously."
Perfect reasoning that justified exactly the user limitations I had implemented. They were creating a scientific explanation for what was actually careful resource management on my system.
"But this raises questions," Katharina continued, "about the identity of the system itself. If there is a shared resource that everyone is accessing, what controls it? What ensures consistency? What prevents chaos if multiple users try contradictory commands?"
This was dangerous territory. They were beginning to ask questions that might lead them to realize the existence of a controlling intelligence behind the system.
"Natural laws," Markus said quickly. "The same way gravity works consistently no matter how many people are subject to it. The underlying physics provides stability."
"Or," Katharina suggested, "there is emergent intelligence in the system itself. Not conscious control, but self-organizing principles that maintain consistency."
I decided it was time to steer the conversation in a safer direction.
"Interesting theories," he said, casually chiming in as he set out the food. "But shouldn't we focus on more immediate practical issues? How do we expand testing to a larger group?"
Both Katharina and Markus immediately turned their attention to me, eager to discuss next steps in the research.
"Absolutely," Markus said. "We need more data points. So far only three people — not enough to draw any definitive conclusions."
"I agree," Katharina added. "But selection of additional subjects needs to be careful. People who can contribute to research while maintaining confidentiality."
"Graduate students?" Markus suggested. "People already involved in related research who would understand the implications."
"Or colleagues in other departments," Katharina suggested. "Psychology, neuroscience, materials science. Interdisciplinary approach."
"Slowly," he said, emphasizing caution. "One person at a time, careful screening, gradual expansion. We need to maintain control of the narrative while we collect data."
"Control of the narrative," Markus repeated thoughtfully. "That's the crux of it. How do we frame this discovery as we begin to share it more widely?"
"Scientific breakthrough," Katharina said immediately. "Revolutionary understanding of the consciousness-reality interface. Historical significance comparable to the discovery of electricity or quantum mechanics."
"But presented responsibly," Markus added. "Not sensationalized. Serious scientific research with appropriate safeguards."
"And always emphasizing the need for institutional oversight," he said. "Individual discovery is just the beginning. Real work requires coordinated effort, adequate resources, a controlled environment."
"An academy," both Katharina and Markus said almost simultaneously.
Perfect. After two weeks of intensive research and theoretical development, they were more convinced than ever that my vision for controlled magical education was not only desirable, but absolutely necessary.
They had convinced themselves through rigorous scientific reasoning that exactly what I wanted was what needed to happen.
And the best part was, they had no idea how completely they had been led to these conclusions.
They thought they were independent researchers making objective scientific decisions.
In fact, they were my first faculty members, designing curriculum for the institution that would serve my agenda of controlled human evolution.
And they were completely excited about the prospect.
It was exactly as I had planned.
As we ate our late Chinese dinner, I grabbed a piece of paper and began to scribble down words from the language I had created. It was a habit I had developed over the past few weeks—making vocabulary lists, testing combinations, exploring syntactic possibilities. For Katharina and Markus, it felt like a natural process of linguistic discovery.
To me, it was carefully choreographed theater.
"ORVEN," I wrote, followed by "THYMAL" and "NEXUS DUAL." Words I had designed specifically for duplication commands, but which to them would seem like natural variations on the existing vocabulary.
"What are these?" asked Katharina, noticing my concentration on the paper.
"I've been thinking about more complex syntactic structures," I replied, feigning uncertainty. "If simple commands can produce levitation, perhaps more elaborate grammatical constructions could... I don't know, produce different effects?"
Markus leaned over to look at my list. "Interesting. Do these words follow the same phonetic patterns we've already cataloged?"
"They do," he said, studying the words as if he were seeing them for the first time. "But there's something different about this particular combination. ORVEN THYMAL NEXUS DUAL. It's as if... it forms a complete syntactical construct."
Katharina immediately perked up. "Want to test it out? We can set up full monitoring."
"I don't know," he said hesitantly. "What if it's dangerous? We don't know what kind of effects more complex commands might produce."
"That's exactly why we need empirical data," Markus insisted. "Science requires experimentation, even when—especially when—we don't know the outcome."
I looked at the pen on the table, pretending to consider the risks.
"Okay," he said finally. "But let's start with a simple object. If something goes wrong..."
"All instruments are active," Katharina confirmed, quickly checking the sensors. "EEG, spectral analysis, electromagnetic meters, high-speed cameras. If anything anomalous happens, we'll capture it."
I stood before the pen, holding the paper with the new words. This was the crucial moment—the first demonstration of truly impossible ability to my captive audience.
"ORVEN THYMAL NEXUS DUAL," he said clearly, directing the command to the pen.
What happened next was even more dramatic than I had anticipated.
The original pen remained on the table, but a second pen began to slowly materialize in the air beside it. Not instantaneous appearance, but gradual building—first a translucent outline, then increasing density, then complete solidification until a second, identical pen was floating beside the first.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Katharina and Markus stood completely still, staring at two pens where moments before there had been only one. Their scientific minds clearly struggling to process what they had just witnessed.
"What... what just happened?" Katharina finally whispered.
"Duplication," I replied, my own voice thick with feigned admiration. "Creation of identical matter out of nothing."
Markus slowly stood up and walked over to the pens. He picked them both up, examining them closely, weighing them, testing their clicking mechanisms.
"They're identical," he said, his voice tight. "Exact weight, seemingly identical molecular structure, even minor scratches and signs of use."
"That's impossible," Katharina muttered, frantically checking the instrument data. "Matter duplication violates mass-energy conservation. It's fundamentally impossible according to all known physics."
"Apparently not," he said, trying to sound as shocked as they were.
Markus sat down heavily, still holding the two pens.
"Kai, do you understand what this means? If you can arbitrarily duplicate matter, you have just demonstrated a violation of the most fundamental conservation laws of the universe."
"How is this possible?" Katharina asked, her voice thick with scientific urgency. "Where did the energy to create new matter come from?"
"I don't know," I replied honestly, since technically I didn't fully understand the underlying mechanisms of my own system. "But it happened."
Markus began pacing back and forth, his mind clearly racing through implications.
"If energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed, then this duplication must be drawing energy from some source. But from where?"
"Perhaps," Katharina suggested hesitantly, "energy isn't really conserved at quantum levels? Perhaps quantum vacuum fluctuations can be exploited to create net energy?"
"That would violate thermodynamics," Markus replied immediately. "The second law is absolute. You can't extract useful work from a single reservoir of temperature."
"Unless," I suggested carefully, "we're not dealing with a closed system. What if consciousness structured through linguistic commands can access energy from... other dimensions? Parallel universes?"
It was a preposterous theory, but exactly the kind of speculation that would distract them from questioning too deeply the real source of the effects.
"Multiple dimensions," Markus murmured, considering. "String theory suggests the existence of compactified extra dimensions. If consciousness could interface across these dimensions..."
"Or," Katharina added, getting excited about theoretical possibilities, "perhaps we are observing direct manipulation of quantum information. If reality is fundamentally informational, then duplication may be copying patterns of information rather than creating new matter."
It was fascinating to see their brilliant minds creating increasingly elaborate explanations for phenomena that I knew were simply commands executed through an interface that I controlled.
"But perfect duplication implies copying information at the atomic level," Markus noted. "Position and momentum of each particle. That would require computing power that exceeds the capabilities of any known system."
"Unless," he said thoughtfully, "consciousness has access to computational resources we don't recognize. What if human consciousness is the interface to something like a universal computing substrate?"
"Are you suggesting that the universe is literally a computer?" Katharina asked.
"Not exactly. But if fundamental reality is informational, then properly structured consciousness could theoretically interface directly with that informational layer."
Markus stopped walking and looked at me intensely.
"Kai, this has implications that go far beyond science. If you can duplicate matter arbitrarily, you can create infinite resources. Food, materials, energy..."
"Or," Katharina added darkly, "weapons. Explosive materials. Toxins. Power to duplicate matter is power to fundamentally reshape the world."
"That's exactly why institutional oversight is crucial," he said quickly. "An individual with those capabilities operating without restraint could cause untold chaos."
"But also," Markus noted, "a person with these capabilities could solve global shortages. End hunger, provide unlimited clean energy, create abundance for all."
"It depends on how knowledge is distributed and controlled," Katharina replied. "In the wrong hands, it would be the ultimate weapon. In the right hands, it could be the salvation of humanity."
It was the perfect setup for the conversation I wanted to have.
"Which brings us back to the concept of academia," he said. "An institution dedicated to developing these capabilities responsibly, training people who demonstrate appropriate judgment, maintaining oversight over how knowledge is used."
"But now there is an even more fundamental question," Markus said seriously. "Given the magnitude of these capabilities, who has the authority to make these decisions? Who determines who gets trained? Who controls access?"
"People who understand implications," I replied carefully. "Scientists, educators, ethicists working together to ensure responsible development."
"Led by the person who discovered capabilities first," Katharina added, looking at me. "Kai, you are naturally suited to a leadership role. You understand science, you demonstrated these abilities first, you are already thinking responsibly about implications."
It was exactly what I wanted to hear, but I had to sound reluctant.
"I don't know if I'm qualified for that kind of responsibility," he said. "These decisions affect the future of humanity."
"That's exactly why you're the right person," Markus insisted. "Anyone who wants that power shouldn't have it. People who discover things by accident, who immediately think about safeguards and oversight, who care about accountability - those are the people who should guide development."
"Besides," Katharina added, "you have practical understanding that no one else has. Theoretical knowledge is not enough to safely train others. You need someone with direct experience."
They were arguing enthusiastically for exactly what I wanted - my program leadership that I would design to serve my purposes.
"And institutional structure?" I asked.
"Dedicated academy for advanced studies," Markus replied immediately. "Small, carefully selected faculty. Strict admission standards. Progressive curriculum building from theory to practical application."
"Isolated location to prevent unauthorized access," Katharina added. "Complete self-sufficiency - which you could achieve through duplication of resources."
"Research facility combined with educational institution," Markus continued. "Advancing understanding while training the next generation of practitioners."
"And an oversight board to ensure ethical standards," I suggested.
"With you as the primary authority," Katharina said firmly. "Academic supervision is meaningless without practical expertise."
Perfect. In the space of an hour, I had demonstrated capabilities that elevated my status from interesting discovery to literally impossible power, and my recruits had argued for themselves to support exactly the institutional structure I needed.
They thought they were designing safeguards to protect humanity from dangerous power.
In reality, they were designing infrastructure for my control over human evolution, complete with academic legitimacy and their enthusiastic endorsement.
"When do we start?" Markus asked.
"How soon can you start construction?" Katharina added.
I looked around my apartment, now serving as a makeshift research facility, at two brilliant minds who had convinced themselves that my agenda was their scientific duty.
"Soon," he said. "Very soon."
It was time to begin Phase Two.
Building the academy, recruiting students, developing faculty.
Building my new world order, one carefully controlled magical education at a time.
And the best part was that my future teachers were eager to help.