The smell of sautéed meat filled my apartment as I stirred the pan with one hand and scrolled through my laptop with the other. There was something surreally domestic about cooking a simple dinner after spending the day transcending the fundamental limitations of human existence.
I tasted the meat—perfectly seasoned, just as I always did—and turned my attention back to the screen. I had decided to watch the entire Harry Potter series again, but this time through the lens of my new perspective. As someone who had literally discovered real magic, I wanted to examine how humanity had fantasized about magical power for decades.
And more importantly, how I could appropriate these fantasies for my own purposes.
The first film was playing on the screen - "The Philosopher's Stone" - as I watched with eyes that could now make real levitation happen. It was fascinating to see how J.K. Rowling had structured her wizarding world: specialized schools, a house system, a hierarchy of abilities, teachers specializing in different magical disciplines.
It was almost as if she had created a blueprint for exactly the kind of institution I was considering establishing.
I turned off the heat and served the meat on a plate, sitting down on the couch to eat while I watched Harry discover he was a wizard. The irony was not lost on me - I was literally in the same situation, except my discovery was real and I had no Hagrid to explain what was happening to me.
I had been my own Hagrid.
"Interesting," I muttered as I chewed, watching the scene where Harry accidentally performs magic by inflating Aunt Marge. "Spontaneous manifestation of power through emotional stress."
On the screen, Hermione was explaining about Hogwarts - a hidden school where young wizards learned to control their magical abilities. A controlled environment where potentially dangerous abilities were shaped through structured education.
It was exactly what I needed to create.
I paused the movie and opened a new document on my laptop. If I was going to introduce real magic into the world through my constructed language, I needed a way to control who learned what, and at what speed. A school would be the perfect interface.
text
CONCEPT: ROYAL ARCANA ACADEMY
Inspiration: Appropriating popular Harry Potter elements for cultural legitimacy
Objective: Complete control over the distribution of magical knowledge
Methodology: Real school disguised as experimental educational experience
ELEMENTS TO APPROPRIATE:
- Student selection system
- Progressive curriculum by levels
- Specialized teachers (who I would train)
- Isolated environment for total control
- "Graduation" ritual that would determine future access
I rewound the film and continued watching, but now with an analytical purpose. Every element of the world of Hogwarts was being processed by my superintelligence as a potential component for my own academy.
The House Sorting Ceremony - I could create something similar, but based on aptitude for different aspects of my magical language. Some students would have talent for physical manipulation, others for more subtle effects. This would allow me to categorize and control abilities from day one.
The different subjects - Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts - I could structure similar curricula, but each "subject" would actually be a different aspect of my language. "Transfiguration" would teach commands for modifying matter. "Potions" would be magically assisted chemistry. "Herbology" would be biological manipulation.
And "Defense Against the Dark Arts" would be specifically about identifying and neutralizing people trying to use my language in unauthorized ways.
I finished eating and picked up my notebook, beginning to sketch out organizational structure as I watched. On the screen, Snape was explaining the subtle art of potion-making, talking about the power that comes from carefully applied knowledge.
"Power through carefully controlled knowledge," I corrected aloud.
I went back to the laptop and started developing the concept in more detail:
text
ORGANIZATIONAL STRUCTURE:
LOCATION:
- Private island (I could create one through geological manipulation)
- Completely isolated from external interference
- Self-sufficient in resources (through magical duplication)
- Accessible only through methods I controlled
STUDENT SELECTION:
- Ages 16-25 (young enough for molding, old enough for commitment)
- Rigorous application process to identify compatible personalities
- Priority for individuals with STEM backgrounds (more likely to accept logical structures)
- Absolute confidentiality agreements
CURRICULUM:
Year 1: Linguistic Foundations - learning the alphabet and basic phonetics
Year 2: Simple Applications - levitation, minor object manipulation
Year 3: Intermediate Effects - Material Modification, Basic Healing
Year 4: Specialization - students choose specific focus
Year 5: Final Project - demonstration of mastery before "graduation"
I paused the movie again during the scene where Harry is learning about the Deathly Hallows. Three objects of ultimate power that would make someone the "Master of Death." It was an interesting metaphor - objects that granted absolute power to those worthy of possessing them.
I could create something similar. Not physical objects, but levels of linguistic access that would function as conceptual "relics." Only the most exceptional graduates would be granted access to truly powerful commands.
And only I would have access to the "Elder Wand level" - commands that transcended anything the students would ever learn.
I went back to the movie, now observing the dynamics between students and teachers. It was interesting how Dumbledore maintained absolute authority while allowing students to feel empowered. He controlled information, he controlled access to knowledge, he controlled the entire environment - but he did it in a way that seemed benevolent and wise.
It was exactly the approach I needed.
"Set macro: materialize_concept," I muttered, deciding to test an idea.
I reached out my hand and focused on creating a physical object that represented my vision for the academy. A small crystal sphere appeared in my palm, within which a tropical island was suspended, complete with buildings that looked like something out of a fantasy film but with distinctly modern architecture.
It was my Arcane Academy in miniature.
I spun the sphere, studying the details my mind had instinctively created. A central tower for my residence and offices. Dormitories arranged in a hexagonal pattern for easy monitoring. Underground laboratories for more advanced experiments. A library with access controlled by permission levels.
And in the center, a large amphitheater where I would conduct lectures to students who would think they were learning ancient magic, but in fact would be being trained as the first agents of my new world order.
On screen, Harry was facing Voldemort in the final battle. Two wizards with completely different views on how power should be used. Voldemort wanted domination through fear. Harry represented power used for protection and preservation.
I would be different from both of them.
My power would be used for evolution. To elevate humanity beyond its current limitations. And my academy would be the mechanism through which this evolution would be carefully managed and controlled.
I placed the crystal sphere on the coffee table and continued planning:
text
EDUCATIONAL PHILOSOPHY:
Presentation: "Rediscovering latent human capabilities through ancestral language"
Reality: Controlled training on proprietary magical interface
Pedagogical Approach:
- Start with theory and history (establish academic credibility)
- Gradual progression to practical applications (avoid culture shock)
- Emphasis on responsibility and ethics (prevent inappropriate use)
- Controlled competition between students (motivation through gamification)
Rewards System:
- Access levels based on performance and loyalty
- "Honorary graduates" receive positions as assistant professors
- "Advanced research" opportunities for the most exceptional
- Implicit threat of loss of access for inappropriate behavior
The film was coming to an end. Harry had defeated Voldemort not through superior power, but through superior understanding of how magic worked. He knew rules that Voldemort ignored.
It was an important lesson. In my academy, I would be the only one with a complete understanding of how the system actually worked. Everyone else would operate with partial knowledge, depending on me for interpretation and direction.
Like teachers teaching from a textbook without fully understanding the material.
I closed the laptop and picked up the crystal sphere again. With focused concentration, I began expanding the model, adding details that would make the gym not only functional, but irresistible to ambitious young people.
Sports fields where students could practice magically assisted flight. Gardens where plants could grow into impossible shapes through biological manipulation. Astronomical observatories where power over time and space could be demonstrated on a cosmic scale.
It would be like Disneyland for people who have always dreamed of real power.
And every attraction, every demonstration, every "miracle" would be carefully calibrated to keep students fascinated, loyal, and dependent.
"System," I said to my empty apartment. "Initialize construction project. Location: artificial island in the South Pacific. Specifications: as per model in the crystal sphere."
I felt that familiar sense of registration, but much more intense this time. I was commanding geological changes on a massive scale—literally creating new land where before there had been only ocean.
It would be a multi-day project, even for my expanded capacity. But when it was finished, I would have a real, functioning magic academy completely under my control.
A place where talented young people from all over the world would come to learn what they would think was rediscovered ancient magic, but which would actually be training to become my unconscious agents in the transformation of human civilization.
It was psychological manipulation on an institutional educational scale.
It was perfect.
I looked out the window at Cambridge, where normal people lived normal lives, completely unaware that in a few months they would be living in a world where magic was real, but controlled by a single person with specific views on how humanity should evolve.
Harry Potter was over, but my own story was just beginning.
And unlike Rowling, I wasn't writing fiction.
I was creating the future.
It was time to get started. I closed my laptop, grabbed my jacket, and pulled my phone out of my pocket. It was time to take the first real step toward introducing magic to the world, and I knew exactly where to start.
I opened Katharina's contact and started a FaceTime call. It took her a few rings to answer – as usual, she was probably absorbed in some project and needed to process the interruption.
When her face appeared on the screen, I could see that I was in her apartment. I recognized the background—white walls with her obsessively organized bookshelves, each book arranged by topic and then alphabetically. She was wearing her reading glasses, her hair still in the same messy bun as before.
"Kai," he said, frowning slightly. "You just left my lab two hours ago. That's... unusual."
It was typical for her to notice deviations from behavioral patterns. People on the spectrum often had heightened sensitivity to changes in established routines.
"Kat, I've discovered something amazing," I said, unable to completely control the excitement in my voice. "About that language we discussed. I need to show you something."
She leaned closer to the camera, her intense blue eyes focusing on the screen. "What kind of discovery?"
"I can't explain it over the phone. It's something I need to demonstrate in person. Are you at home?"
"I am. But Kai, you know I don't like unplanned visits. My Tuesday night schedule is reserved for organizing the week's data."
I took a deep breath. Asking to break the established routine was a big ask for Katharina. But I needed her specifically—her analytical mind, her scientific objectivity, and most importantly, her trust in me.
"I know, and I'm sorry I didn't warn you in advance. But this is... revolutionary, Kat. It's literally going to change our understanding of how language can affect physical reality. Can I come?"
She paused, clearly processing. I could see her eyes moving slightly—a sign that she was performing rapid mental analysis, weighing the disruption to routine against the potential value of the discovery.
"Revolutionary how?" he finally asked.
"As an empirical demonstration that those phonetic structures we analyzed have measurable effects on the physical environment."
Her eyes widened slightly. For Katharina, the promise of empirical data on linguistic phenomena was irresistible.
"How much time do you need?"
"Thirty minutes, maximum."
Another pause. "You can come. But let me know when you're coming. I don't like surprises at the door."
I sighed with happiness—a genuine feeling that surprised me. Even with all the neurological modifications I had undergone, there was still something about Katharina that evoked a real emotional response.
"Thanks, Kat. See you in twenty minutes."
I ended the call and left the apartment, my mind racing through how I would present this. This was the first time I would demonstrate real magic to another person. The first test of how a normal human being would react to the incontrovertible evidence that reality could be programmed through vocal commands.
The drive to Katharina's apartment was tense in a way I hadn't anticipated. The whole way, part of my mind was questioning whether I was making the right decision. Once I demonstrated real capabilities to her, there would be no turning back. She would become an accomplice, a witness, or a threat—depending on how she reacted.
But I had to start somewhere. And if there was anyone I could trust to react scientifically rather than emotionally, it was Katharina.
Her apartment was in a red brick building in Somerville, a fifteen-minute drive from MIT. It was a small but meticulously organized space—exactly the kind of controlled environment in which she felt comfortable.
I sent a message when I arrived: "I'm here."
She immediately replied, "Apartment 3B. Door will be unlocked."
I walked up the stairs, feeling my heart beat faster. Not from physical exertion—my cardiovascular optimization had eliminated any fatigue from simple activity—but from nervous anticipation.
The door was ajar, as promised. I knocked lightly and entered.
Katharina's apartment was exactly as she had expected: minimalist, organized, functional. A simple gray sofa, a coffee table with only a laptop and a few academic journals arranged at precise angles. Bookshelves covered two entire walls, books organized according to a system that probably only she fully understood.
She was sitting on the couch, laptop closed, hands folded in her lap—a posture that indicated full attention.
"Hi," I said softly, closing the door behind me.
"Hi. Have a seat." She gestured to the armchair across from the couch. "Explain this revolutionary discovery."
I sat up, suddenly intensely aware of the weight of the moment. In the next few minutes, I would fundamentally change another person's life. Katharina had thought she lived in a universe governed by immutable physical laws. Soon she would learn that those laws were more… flexible than she had assumed.
"Remember the words I showed you today? VEXIS, THALAR, ZEPHON?"
"Yes. Unique consonant structures, possibly of pre-Indo-European origin."
"Well, I've discovered that they have properties beyond just linguistic patterns." I picked up a pen from her coffee table—a blue Pilot G2, meticulously positioned parallel to the edge of the table. "May I demonstrate?"
She nodded, her eyes focused intently on the pen.
I took a deep breath. It was time.
I stood up and pointed to the pen, keeping my voice clear and authoritative:
"VEXIS THALAR ZEPHON."
The pen rose gently from the table and began to float in the air between us.
The silence that followed was absolute. Katharina stood completely still, her eyes flickering between the floating pen and my face, as if she were trying to process information that didn't fit into any cognitive framework she had.
The pen continued to float steadily, slowly rotating on its axis, defying gravity in a way that could not be explained by any physics she knew.
"How," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Language," he said simply. "The phonetic structures we've been analyzing today. They're... instructions."
Katharina stood up slowly, walking over to the floating pen. She reached out cautiously, as if expecting it to be a hologram that her hand would pass through.
But when his fingers touched the pen, it was solid, real, warm to the touch.
"This is impossible," she muttered.
"THYSS ZELAK," he said softly.
The pen stopped floating and gently fell back into his hand.
Katharina held the pen, examining every aspect as if it were an alien artifact. "This is the same pen. Same weight, same texture. But it was… floating."
"Try."
She looked at me, and for the first time since I had known her, I saw complete confusion in her eyes. Katharina was a person who needed logical explanations for everything. Her world was built on predictable patterns and systems that could be analyzed and understood.
I had just shattered this world.
"How is that possible?" she asked.
"Honestly? I don't know completely. But I have found that certain combinations of these words produce measurable effects on physical reality."
She sat down heavily, still holding the pen. "This contradicts every law of physics we know."
"Or," he said carefully, "it indicates that our understanding of physics is incomplete."
It was crucial that I framed this correctly. Not as magic or a supernatural phenomenon, but as a scientific discovery that expanded our understanding of how reality worked.
"Can you do it again?" she asked.
"VEXIS THALAR ZEPHON," repeti.
The pen rose from his hand and resumed floating.
This time, Katharina studied the phenomenon with more analytical detachment. I saw her mind shift from shock to scientific curiosity.
"There is no visible mechanism," she observed. "No electromagnetic field that I can detect. No air current. The pen is simply... suspended."
"Exactly."
"And you control it through vocal commands in that ancient language?"
"Yes. Specific phonetic patterns produce specific effects."
She stood up again, circling the floating pen as if viewing it from different angles would reveal the hidden mechanism.
"That changes everything," she said finally. "If language can direct physical effects... if sound patterns can alter reality..."
I could see her mind racing through the implications. As a linguist, she understood better than most how revolutionary this discovery was.
"Kat," he said gently, "I need you to understand that this information is extremely sensitive."
She looked at me carefully. "Sensitive how?"
"Think about it. If people knew that certain words could manipulate physical reality, what would happen?"
His analytical mind immediately grasped the problem. "Chaos. Every person would want access. Governments would try to weaponize it. Social structures would collapse if power over physics were democratized."
"Exactly. That's why I came to you first. I need someone I can trust to help me figure out how to handle this responsibly."
It was manipulation, but not entirely false. I really did need Katharina's help—just not in the way she thought.
"THYSS ZELAK," she said, and the pen settled back into her palm.
She stared at the pen for a long moment, then looked back at me.
"Kai, if this is real - and I just witnessed that it is - then you have made the most significant discovery in human history."
"I know."
"And you're asking me to help keep this a secret?"
"I'm asking you to help me figure out how to reveal this safely. In a controlled way that won't destroy civilization."
Katharina was quiet for several minutes, her mind processing not only the phenomenon I had demonstrated, but all the implications that came with it.
Finally, she spoke:
"I'll help you. But we do it scientifically. Controlled experiments, documented results, peer review when appropriate."
"Of course."
"Kai?"
"Try?"
"Thank you. For trusting me with this."
I smiled, and for a moment, I felt something like genuine affection for this brilliant, analytical woman who had just become my first recruit in transforming the world.
"Thank you, Kat. For believing in me."
When I left her apartment that night, I knew everything had changed. Katharina was now within my circle of acquaintance, positioned to become an invaluable asset in my plans.
The first demonstration was complete.
And it had gone perfectly.