Werewolf the Podcast: The Professor on Magic (Episode 198)

What is magic? Well, in today's episode, we get to hear it from the expert. How he thinks magic works in the world. How faith and belief can manifest themselves into what we see as magic. He breaks down the link between quantum physics and Newtonian physics. I have to say the episode and the link are magic.

A really superb episode. Listen and learn. It may be the truth.

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Choking on the Deadlight

by R.D. Nightshade

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Transcript

The Journey North was one of deep thought about what was happening in the Fae world. I had plumped for an old favourite for the drive, an old-looking, much-updated Hillman Minx. 

A glorious little vehicle. I found the Minx after quashing the Goblin revolt in 1994 while working behind the lines. It was in a barn in the middle of a contested Farm. A lucky find. 

After we had removed the vicious new leader of the Gobbos, I had gone back and found it again and bought it for a song. Well, the farmer and his family were dead, so it was auctioned off.

When I had found it, it was a well-kept wreck beneath a tarpaulin. Hmmm! How she shone now with her burgundy paintwork. 

Every inch of its interior was exactly as it should have been, apart from the modern electrics hidden mostly below my seat. I wish I did not need such things, but sadly, I do. 

I found that I needed good music and a constant connection to the world. The classic Minx would have been a great escape, but I was a sinner not allowed to escape from my duty. Or some abstract shit like that, but I did not consider putting other modern items in the interior. Why do I need airbags and seatbelts? It's not like I am going to die, is it?

I eventually got to the city where I was asked to speak today. I can not tell you the city's name, I'm afraid. You know I have to respect the secret act and all that. 

However, I can give you clues. It has the most insane one-way system ever created by man. If it were not for my lack of evidence, I would say that the contraflow system of this great university town was designed by the devil herself. Although knowing her now, she would not be so cruel. 

I had put together an interesting lecture and was to offer it and my so-called expertise to a group of Doctorate students who were developing theories about things that I didn't understand and did not want to understand, to be utterly honest.

One of those precious few was a world-renowned Topologist. I had never heard of that term in Maths before, so out of interest, I had looked it up on Google. 

"Topology" studies shapes and objects where stretching, twisting, and bending don't change their fundamental characteristics, essentially allowing you to mathematically consider a coffee cup and a doughnut as the same object.

I had tried to think about it for about ten minutes, then decided I was born to be ignorant of Topology, so I left Google be, and went to check out one of my embarrassing vices. 

A few months ago, I found a website allowing you to read all the Dan Dares comics. I mean all of them. It is worth a scramble on the World Wide Web if you do not know who he is.

Where was I? Oh yes, the talk that I was going to Cambridge for. Oops, Did not mean to say Cambridge. Another reason to be sent to the Tower for treason. (laugh)

The talk was going to be titled.

Bridging the Gap Between Magic and Quantum Science

I started the music that I wished to listen to for the journey. I had downloaded Django Reinhardt's Discography to the car's media system. I had found it downloadable somewhere. 

Putting this music on quite fits in with the lecture theme. I mean, if you want to talk about magic. In this case of musical magic, I could squeeze a man's entire career of recorded music on my phone. His discography was massive and had twenty-five years of recordings on it. 1928 - 1953. It made me smile that I had to go and explain magic to these students when this seemed utterly incredible magic. All that information is on my phone? Where? Magic beyond me. 

In a small book-lined theatre, I started my talk. 

'Gentlemen and ladies, and others...'

I took a moment to gauge the reaction of those before me as I juggled words into the air to get the correct semantics floating before them. I would impress them with a juggling word flex.

'Others has many meanings. I fully respect all the others because that is my area of expertise. No, I don't mean I have any understanding of gender studies.' I paused for some kindly offered smirks.

"Although I have learned much about that in my long and drawn-out time on this Earth.' I smiled before continuing.

'I include all others as well as the many pronouns we have to engage with rightfully these days. I refer to those others on the fringes of science, magic and truth. Thee others.'

I felt interest peak in the room.

'You find yourselves at the crossroads of science and legend, standing between the rigour of quantum mechanics and the whispered myths of the supernatural.' I continued again, allowing a pause to elicit their interest. 

'The question is one that has haunted the greatest minds of both disciplines: Can magic be explained in quantum terms? And, if so, does that mean magic is simply another form of physics—one we have yet to master?' I asked.

I looked around the dimly lit lecture hall, my gaze settling on the eager, if somewhat sceptical, faces of the youngish students before me. 

They had come from institutions across the world—physicists, mathematicians, and even the occasional theologian. 

Oh, and yes, the Topologist who was not what I expected. He was the opposite of the stereotype I had built in my mind and looked like a battle-ready flanker from a late seventies Rugby League team from Salford. He looked like he was smoking a rolly, as we used to call those awful handmade cigarettes, even when he was not. Odd. Even odder with all my years of working with people, is that I still think in stereotypes. Utterly odd.

I could sense that all the group were curious. I felt it. Let's see how they would feel after this little talk. They might come to the conclusion I need some sort of mental health intervention.

'To understand this idea, we must first consider what quantum mechanics has already revealed about the nature of our universe," I continued.

I wrote the next point on the whiteboard behind me. I am not a fan of... erm. The PowerPoint thing. It hurts my base sensibilities. I know I am old-fashioned.

'Quantum Superposition and the Many-Worlds Theory.' I wrote in healthy-sized letters. I wish we still had chalkboards. I much prefer them. 

After the squeaky blue scrawl had been written, I continued.

'We already know that at the smallest levels of reality, particles can exist in multiple states at once—a phenomenon we call superposition.'

I stood before them, checking their engagement as I tossed my marker pen from hand to hand, considering my next statement carefully.

'It is only when observed that they 'choose' a definite state. Now imagine for a moment that a skilled practitioner of magic is merely someone who has learned how to guide this collapse of probability towards their desired outcome.'

'A spell, then, is nothing more than a command for reality to take a certain path." I paused to let this concept settle in. Also, I am always open to questions that need to be fielded. Nicely, though, it seemed that I could continue without distraction.

'Similarly, the Many-Worlds Interpretation suggests that all possible realities exist at once, but...'

I stepped away from the lectern, still throwing and catching my pen while considering my next sentence with difficulty. 

'We only experience one world normally as humans. Magic could be the ability to step between these realities, borrowing knowledge, energy, or even entire objects from parallel timelines. The legends of oracles seeing the future or wizards pulling swords from thin air were perhaps merely bending probability in ways we do not yet understand."

A lot of typing and notes were taken by those before me. I stood and waited for them to finish what they were doing. There were no questions again, which was good but slightly unsettling. Often, I have to... sort of... reiterate these points. 

I smiled and cleaned the whiteboard with a sponge that was there for the precise reason of cleaning the board. I know this sounds strange, but these boards don't have these spongy items nine times out of ten. Bloody useful and saves my kerchief. I genuinely think there is some supernatural power that makes them disappear. Maybe some whiteboard sponge fairy who steals them. Hmmm! Fairies are in my head again!

Once clean, I wrote the next point. 

Quantum Entanglement and Magical Bonds

"Next, consider quantum entanglement, where two particles remain connected, no matter how distant.' I paused.

'Change one, and the other changes instantly. To the untrained eye, this might seem impossible—an action at a distance without any detectable link. And yet, this is already proven physics.'

'What, then, of telepathy, or the ancient idea of 'soulmates' being connected across great distances? What of objects imbued with powerful emotion—cursed relics, sacred artefacts? If entanglement exists on the quantum level, why not on the human, emotional, or spiritual level? Perhaps our ancestors called it 'magic' simply because they lacked the mathematics to describe it.' I could sense brains being put in gear.

'Any questions?' A number of heads were shook in response. I smiled and turned back to the board. The sponge had gone from its place on the board. The Fairies? Oh no, silly me. It was on the lectern. I laughed and smiled with a little embarrassment as I made it obvious what I was returning for and picked up the eraser with great deliberation before returning to the board to wipe the words away. 

The Observer Effect and the Power of Belief. I wrote.

"One of the strangest findings in quantum mechanics is the Observer Effect—the idea that merely observing something changes its outcome. What if belief itself is a form of observation? What if entire civilisations, believing in the same gods, myths, and curses, actually shape reality simply by focusing their collective will upon it?"

I turned back to face those in the room.

"Many ancient traditions speak of spells that require unwavering faith, of supernatural beings that exist only because enough people believe in them. Could consciousness itself be a key force in shaping the physical world? If so, then what we call magic is merely another expression of quantum mechanics—one we have yet to fully quantify."

The Topologist raised an arm that would have been comparable to the size of my leg and opened his palm to reveal a shovel-sized hand. 

'Yes, David.' I saw him look at me, shocked by the use of his name. I always made sure I learnt the names of those sitting in front of me and their backgrounds. Firstly, it is so lovely to use a person's name. They feel valued and respected. That I had took some time to read their work and have a slight affinity for them. The second reason it is helpful. Is that using their name makes them accountable; they can not hide in a crowd. The third and the real reason that I learned names is that I am rightly a paranoid bastard, and I needed to assess the safety of the situation. I hate being caught in traps. Be ready for the worst. 

"Professor, is this point related to why ritual and pageantry are so important in magic? Why do we need all the candles, the chanting, the blood sacrifices? Why all that if it is just belief?" David asked.

I smiled, leaning against the heavy oak lectern. "Ah, an excellent question, David. One that cuts to the very heart of magic itself." 

I gestured toward the parchments behind me, where arcane symbols and Latin inscriptions were scrawled in my own distinctive hand. 

"In my opinion, magic, real magic, is not a thing of nature that we have yet been able to isolate. It does not exist in and of itself in a manner that we can observe.'

I paused. This was such a bloody good question, and it had me thinking on the spot. 

'Erm, a manner we can observe effectively and in a quantifiable way.'

'We can see the outcomes of magic but not the process," I said, tapping my temple with a pen.

"Magic, my dear students, is belief. Human conscious belief."

A murmur passed through the room. I let it settle before continuing.

"Let me put it another way.'

'You are all familiar with the placebo effect, yes?'

I received nodding heads and acknowledgements.

'The notion that a sugar pill, given with enough conviction, can actually cause healing? The same principle applies to magic but on a grander, more terrifying scale.'

'The universe does not care about your spells—it does not bend to whispered words alone. But you care. And the deeper your belief, the more reality begins to listen." It was flowing now. I had never put this concept into words before, but I felt a journal paper would be this day's outcome. 

I was now becoming enthused and excited and began pacing, hands moving as I spoke. 

"This is why ritual is so crucial. Every step, every motion, every carefully selected ingredient—these things reinforce belief and turn it into something tangible.' 

I stopped pacing.

"A spell cast in haste, with no preparation, is a wish upon the wind. But a spell woven through hours of ritual, with chants memorised, symbols drawn with steady hands, blood or bone offered in sacrifice… that is a spell with weight."

I paused my monologue a little too long for the student's comfort. I could feel the tension growing in them. A little ploy of mine. 

To release that tension I smiled at the class with sharp amusement. The tension in the air dissipated.

"And this is why the most powerful magic requires the most elaborate rituals. You cannot ask the universe for something extraordinary with a half-hearted prayer and a supermarket candle. No, no. The cost must be paid in effort, in faith, in sacrifice."

A pause. A smirk from my lips.

"Which is why, ladies and gentlemen, you always hear about virgins' blood in dark magic. Think about it. The harder something is to obtain, the more effort goes into acquiring it. The more effort expended, the greater the belief in its power. The greater the belief…" 

I was now in full thespian orrator mode and opened my arms theatrically. 

"The stronger the spell," I announced

Laughter rippled through the hall, though a few students shifted uneasily in their seats.

I leaned with my back to the lectern, picking up another marker. 

"So, next time you read about some ancient rite requiring a dozen rare herbs harvested under a full moon, a human skull buried at a crossroads, and a dagger blessed by a fallen priest, you'll know why. The magic itself isn't in the ingredients." I tapped the pens in my hand, eyes glinting. 

"It's in the belief they create."

With that, I waited for the other questions. None were forthcoming, so I turned back to the board and began writing again.

Bridging the Gap: The Missing Element Between Quantum and Newtonian Physics

'Moving back to the subject of the talk.'

I let the silence settle over the room. Then, I smiled—a small, knowing expression.

"Let's discuss this.' I said, pointing to the words on the board.

The Missing Element Between Quantum and Newtonian Physics

"Why do quantum effects only appear at the smallest scales? Why does Newtonian physics dominate the macroscopic world? What is the missing link between the two?"

I leant forward, my voice dropping slightly to get the attention the following information would warrant.

"I believe that the answer will not come from physics alone. The missing piece of the puzzle will be found in what we now call the supernatural—the unexplained, the mythical, the things we dismiss because they do not fit into our existing models. But what if they are not separate from science? What if they are simply pieces of the puzzle we have yet to properly examine?"

"Some of you may laugh. Some of you may think this is fantasy. But I tell you now—history has shown us that many 'impossible' things simply needed the right framework to be understood. Once, we thought the Earth was flat. Once, we thought time was absolute. Perhaps one day, we will look back and see magic not as a fairytale but as the bridge that finally united the quantum and the classical."

I held a dramatic pause and made eye contact with each student in turn. I could feel the incredulity biting at the souls of some of them. 

'Maya Culpa to those of you that I have offended with this idea. It is only the opinion of a simple man.' I told the audience, my head slightly bowed in apology.

'If that day comes. The day when magic reveals itself, and it will, my dear students. I am convinced of it.'

'Then we will finally understand that science and magic were never separate to begin with. They were always one and the same."

I paused and drank from the water glass on the lectern from which I was pontificating. I liked the lectern as it felt like a formal gap between myself and my students.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I am no stuck-up old fuddy-duddy. Well, that's incorrect. I am, but I always see myself and anyone I speak to utterly on the same level in discussion. 

As Descartes told me. 'Even the idiot is a savant of knowledge about something.' Hmmm, that quote loses something in the translation, but I hope you get the gist of what I am trying to say.

After a few sips, I returned the glass to where it had sat. I noticed that its base perfectly fitted into the watermark in the wood stain that had developed there over the decades I had been visiting. Could this be the same glass as was here in the 50's?

I brought my attention back to the group. No one had moved. Okay, that's a good sign. 

'I open the floor to questions that I will resolutely do my best to butcher.' I offered, smiling. 

A young man in the front, a theologian, I think from reading the class information files. 

'Yes, Jason,' another little moment of shock on a face not expecting me to know its name.

"Referring back to the concept that faith... er belief creates God, Professor.'

'Many things, not just God, David', I reminded him. 

'Er, yes. If belief has the power to create gods, does that mean gods only exist as long as people believe in them? And if so, could a God that was once forgotten ever be revived by new belief, or does their existence fade permanently?" 

A broad smile spread across my face. "Now that, my dear Jason, is a damn good question." And it bloody was.

"Hmmm!...' I started but had to rethink my thoughts.

I raised my eyebrows to the class and smiled. They laughed in appreciation at the action.

'Bloody hell, Jason... That is such a dam good question. It has utterly confusticated me for a moment.'

Another pause for consideration.

'Hmm!... You see if we accept the premise that gods and magics are created by belief, then it follows that their existence is directly tied to the minds and faith of their worshippers and believers. As long as someone, somewhere, acknowledges in them—even in the faintest whisper of an old story—they are, in some form, still present.' Another pause, a sip from the glass and its careful return to its watermark on the lectern.

'But once that belief is gone entirely, once the last person to utter their name has turned to dust, then they fade. Not die, exactly, but become... unreachable, maybe. Dormant."

I paused, and I shifted gears to something more contemplative. 

"And yet—" I glanced around at the bookshelves lining the room. 

"I've seen things brought back. Gods, spirits, creatures long forgotten, revived through written words, old stories rediscovered, their names spoken again after centuries of silence. So perhaps the real danger to a god isn't just the loss of belief but the loss of all records. A god may survive the death of its last worshipper if it still lingers in ink, carved into stone, waiting to be found.' Again, I paused in thought

'For goodness sake, there are probably lots of old gods and other entities battering around that damnded World Wide Web thingy.' I pronounced, adding the next sentence somewhat bitterly.

In fact, I don't bloody doubt it.' 

I looked back at Jason, nodding approvingly. 

"I offer you 'gratulationes', Jason. Your question cuts right to the heart of it. If belief alone sustains the ethereal, then what happens when they are completely erased—not just from memory, but from history itself? Can they ever be reborn, or is that the true death of a deity? That, my friend, is something I would very much like to know."