One, Two, Many

I'm told that there's a tribe or society somewhere, or was, that suffers from the same lack of scientific passion that drove me into liberal arts. In that tribe they grew quickly bored with numbers and counting and decided all they needed were the terms one, two, and many.

The tsunamis around the Indian Ocean have been called "Biblical," and I can't think of a better word. My mind and heart are too overwhelmed to grasp the enormity of it, but I can understand and appreciate many.

In other science news I love this time of year and the top ten lists. Science magazine has published a list of the year's greatest achievments but may have gone to press before today's findings by the FDA and a new drug that can be used for childhood lukemia. I someday may talk about modern drugs, but it brings up another, more interesting point.

Nowhere in the media that I've found is there any mention of the year's greatest advancements in palmistry. Astrology, too, as well as aromatherapy and accupuncture seem to have muddled through another year with nothing to show. Odd that.

I also can't help noticing that a disaster the magnitude of which has recently occurred, one that has cost many lives, somehow wasn't predicted by any of the people who make a living telling us they can see the future. I'd think, in my lay mind, that anything this enormous would have been noticeable to anyone who claimed the gift. I'd expect this to be more noteworthy than some vague pronouncement about Liz Taylor, but it looks as if I'm wrong.

I'm glad about one thing, though. Many of the NGO websites are back online. It's wonderful that they were so hammered.

(Writing news under more



Magus One may never be written. I've been thinking of it some, and my whole take on the thing is that anyone who discovered a means by which the fundamental laws that govern our universe could be avoided would have an incredible advantage over the rest of humanity. An alchemist who could turn forty cent lead into four hundred dollar gold would crash and destroy the world's economic footing. Once he could produce fireballs and light spells without cost, our dreams of free and renewable energy would radically alter the world.

I envision a scene with seven or eight magicians hurling fireballs at boilers, producing steam.

Levitation would render Caterpillar obsolete, phase-shifting and teleportation would make museum pieces out of railroads, airports, and even cars. This guy, this Magus One, would be able to own the world, but it would be a world that I'm not sure I can fully understand.

An army of people reading health spells could cure the world's ills, resurrecting the dead and producing exponential population growth. Our mage could, of course, wave his hand and cast death and destruction at whim, but a world with magic is looking less like a place I'd like to live to write about.

Maybe I should just continue research, and try to find out if it's right or wrong to speak of getting into a shiny car or grasping a glimmering sword. Grammar has rules, and I find comfort in rules.