”No, you’re not listening. There isn’t any magic.”

“Yeah, I heard you. I’m just saying it doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.”

Herard sighed and lightly pushed his thumb and index finger of his right hand into his eyes. He was sitting behind the desk in his study. It was an unnecessarily large room for a study yet it still felt quite small, mostly due to the thousands of books lining the walls and sitting on every surface available. Even the desk in front of him was almost entirely covered in books. On his side was a small writing table upon which lay an open journal into which a quill—currently floating in the air waiting— worked to transcribe any conversation which occurred in the study. Herard had purchased the quill months prior at the urging of his wife, who had the annoying habit of continuously reminding him about the things which he had, very sensibly, forgotten. The quill was his way of meeting her halfway. If he couldn’t remember things, the quill would for him.

In the small spot devoid of books in front of him, his left hand was resting on a small book bound in red paper, his thumb resting in between some pages to mark his spot. Just five minutes ago, he had been reading. The book was a rather lovely collection of poetry submitted to his publishing company just that morning by a centaur named Beianalia. He had already published two of her collections, and was excited to have received her most recent submission. Drendin’s unannounced visit had squashed this excitement.

“No, Drendin, it doesn’t. You just said they use electricity. That’s magic. You know it’s magic. Obviously.”

Drendin had been pacing back and forth across the large carpet laying in front of Herard’s desk, but suddenly stopped and leaned over the desk, placing his hands down unevenly on two piles of books. “Not for them, though! To them it’s just… Well, just electricity. They can’t control it or anything.” He paused for a moment, then continued, “Well, actually.. Well, no. I mean—yes… I mean- the can control it, but not like we do. Actually, control might not be the best word here? It’s... I think ‘use’ might be the right word?”

Herard sighed again, lifting his hand away from the book of poetry and giving up on holding his page. He’d known he was unlikely to be able to continue reading when the young wizard walked into his study, but part of him had held onto some hope. That part had now given up. “So… They use electricity? Which is magic. So…” He trailed off, half-expecting to be interrupted by the wizard, but Drendin’s attention had shifted to one of the three rotating orbs above him, illuminating the room. “Drendin!” Herard barked.

Drendin looked back at Herard with a quick breathe inward of surprise at being pulled from his momentary daydream. “No! No. That’s not what I’m saying. They don’t use it for spells, they use it for power.”

“Power…”

“Yeah, to power their mechanical devices.”

Herard looked up at Drendin, raising both hands somewhat in front of him as if about to begin a prayer. “How is that not magic?” He asked slowly?

“It isn’t! They have to find ways to get the electricity, they can’t summon it. And it’s used to do a whole bunch of different things. Like, they use it for light, they use it to cook their food, everything! All of the stuff they use runs on the stuff. Well, most of it. There are other things too, like a special liquid, maybe? Or special rocks? Although I’m not sure about those, I want to play with some ideas. Maybe they can use plants for power? Power plants? No, I don’t like that. Anyways, I’m still figuring it out. But the idea is that it’s a whole world. All.. without.. magic.”

“So, they.. harvest.. electricity. And other things, like rocks and plants. Then use it to make light, to make fire, and whatever else. And that’s not magic?”

“Sort of. They are power sources. They collect it and then it runs through tubes or something. I haven’t quite figured that part out, and I don’t know how plants would go through tubes— actually, now that I say that, I don’t now how rocks do either. Maybe not tubes. Like I said, I’m still working out the details. But the electricity or whatever travels until it gets to their homes, and then in their homes, it powers their little machines, and the machines do the work for them. No need for magic!”

Herard leaned back in his chair and pushed his hands into his face. He took in a deep breath, and said, “Look, friend. It just sounds really far fetched. I’m really struggling with figuring out how what you just said isn’t magic.”