The United States of Magic

I had a dream. A dream of a land where magic is studied on high school, and there are centuries of history of usage. A dream where I’m again a teenager fighting for the girl I like. This is not a very original plot (you have dozens of books, like the Tales of Alvin the Maker, or the Harry Potter books, and several animes, Neo Yokio, or, Little Witch Academia) but this is my plot. So I may write about it.

On a more festive note, I was naive and I thought I was able to write while surrounded by kids and family. I’m not. It turns out that for me what works to force me to sit and write here is to have a new idea (in this case, my dream) that I don’t want to forget, and I tend to if not written.

So for those that are waiting for the end of my fantasies (Coinreruf, StarHotel, or¬†The Water Wedding) they will come, I promise, but probably, long after Xmas and New Year’s eve. Or maybe I’ll be wrong again. I’m reading you ūüôā


Coinreruf (VII)

The travel back to the village we did in silence. I followed her without effort, like if she was my bait and I was some kind of wild animal. A boar maybe. Her scent was very characteristic, and for a few moments, I even closed my eyes and floated on it. It was the smell of mystery, of life, of promises. But I digress.

I don’t know what the king wants exactly from Coinreruf. But as a man, I can feel the power she has over the men. I do need still to understand her better, since my mission is including also delivering a report about her possibilities, her arts, her fame. Why is she collecting shells, for example? What is the limit for her? Does she has a masterplan, dreams, expectations? I do have one myself, even being in such a high position. One day, I will lead an army to expand Pecunia. When the king thinks I’m ready, he will let me choose my army, and I will get for him more territory. Maybe he will even let me marry one of his daughters, and I will then have a chance to be the father of the new king!

I smell Coinreruf again. My dreams disappear like a smoke cloud blown away by a playful child. We stand in front of her tent, and I let her open the door for me. I enter without exchanging a word yet. Inside the tent, I’m in a treasure trove. On the center lays a wonderfully forged fireplace, its ironwork on the shape of spirals, its base, polished to the point of reflection. And this one, from where does it come from? The fire is already burning. Does she has servants that prepare it before her arrival? I look around but we are alone. Multiple cushions lay around the flames, each one, a piece of art worthy of a princess. Then, you have the lamps. I’ve never seen so beautiful ones. Also, they are already on, but maybe they were before? I resist myself to use my authority to get one lamp, once more, since I do not want to use the force on her. I want her to be confident so I can analyze her soul, so that I can chop her behavior, her tricks, into such an amount of little pieces that she will not be able to use them against me or the king of Pecunia.

At the end of the room, there is a big chest, the size of a goat, with inlaid gold. Ignoring her, I directly go to where it stands and open it. Inside, instead of colourful bed clothes, kitchen tools, preserved food, or defensive weapons, what I find is a huge mount of colourful, rounded, multi-sized shells over a bed of white wool.

Apple configurator deployment error: iPad Stuck on the Apple logo


We are going digital and I need to implement a smooth way to deploy iPads. This is done with the Apple Configurator. I’m not going to explain now how to use it (it’s a very complicated tool) but comment on a problem I had using the tool and¬† how to fix it.

I got an iPad from a coworker that needs to be re-deployed, to be able to work with our new framework. I connect the iPad to the machine running the configurator and I see that it needs a software update. That I do right away just to find out that the iPad seems to be bricked after the reboot you do once the update is done. The iPad is still visible from the configurator, but no action is possible. The solution is written here. Press and hold the power button and the Home button simultaneously until the Apple logo appears. Then, let go of both buttons.

In principle I was strongly against the use of these tablets on our working environment. However, now that I can -more or less- control the deployment and I started really using one of them, I understand why people want them ūüôā

Coinreruf (VI)

– Why, if I may ask? – She shows no surprise for my demand. Was she already asked to join the Court of our enemies? I will need to find out.

There, standing naked in front of me, nor defiant neither manse, she looks like a goddess. A perfect skin color, not tanned, neither white. No visible spots, no marks of war. The circles of her nipples, now hard maybe because of the temperature, concentric to the contour of her perfect breasts that seem to be copied from the curves of her hip. The idea of a woman more than a real one. And then you have her magic, still visible.

– Are you questioning your king? – It’s difficult for me to choose a diplomatic position here. I need to get her. How should I approach her, like a lord, or like a peasant?

– Of course not, my lord. May I call you in some special way? Or messenger will do? – She seems to realize my gaze and grabs her¬†furisode. I’m tempted to help her to dress, just to have a chance to get closer to her. Maybe rub her.

– Messenger will do. Get dressed, we need to move. – I turn my back to her. I want to stop being tantalized by her body, and it will help me to create the distance I need to control the person. I need to divert my mind also, and the conversation. – Your furisode.

– Is there something wrong with it, my Messenger? – I’m still giving her my back, but I can’t afford to feel my masculinity reacting after her soft voice whispering from behind. The king is going to appreciate her natural art.

– Who made it? Is there such a marvelous tailor on your village? Coming from the Court, I have seen a lot of furisode, but yours is a masterpiece as I don’t see in years.

– I’m happy to hear that. No, our tailor does mainly haori. We get our clothes from the caravan, twice per year. Uchikake,¬†kakeshita, even mofuku.¬†Once that¬†the old man was very drunk he claimed that he was able to perform¬†saki-ori.¬†Personally, I think he can’t go beyond a simple¬†komon. Where can you learn that? On the Court? But maybe I’m wrong and he can do gofuku for you… sorry we are fishermen, we don’t have too much silk around. Why do you ask? Are you in need of new clothes? – I turn then and find her fully dress. The furisode¬†makes her look even more like a supernatural being. A rokurokubi, maybe.

– I’m just interested on how your community here works, and what is your role in it. You will need to tell me more later. Now, we must come back to your village.

Coinreruf (V)

(Please have a look to Coinreruf (IV) and previous chapters if you don’t remember them)

Before finding her I find her clothes. They are neatly hanging over the branches of a berry bush on the lakeshore at the end of the road the peasant indicated me. She left a furisode, of course, with a complicated pattern of flowers and trees that are making it mingle with the green and brown vegetation around. The flowers on it, delicately painted, are so realistic that I am tempted to pluck one out of the dress. But I refrain myself from touching it. And from taking it to smell it. Anyway, there is no need. Her fragrance is emanating from the bush the furisode was hanged. The smell is indescriptible, strong but pleasant, I wonder if artificial. I remember once during my trips something similar emanating from a big, delicious fruit that the locals called mangoo. It is not as simple as that, it was also sake, and clean rain, and wooden fire, and love. All of it, mixed. If the love has a smell, of course. I am instantly attracted to it, I want it, I want to be covered on it, to have it over my skin. I want to take the furisode and dress it over my old, tiring, boring traveller clothes. But my willpower prevails.

I follow the shore, covered by a fine golden sand. Geta footprints beyond the clearing the furisode¬†is laying are indicating me the way. I fail to picture what kind of woman would walk only on her geta. An amazing woman? Not so far ahead, on another, less visible clearing I find the shoes, and I look for her around. There. Under the water, something the size of an human, with a shiny white skin, is diving. I wait, hoping the person needs to go out to breath. But she does not look at my stop, fearlessly jumping over the surface, back in, splashing all around. Like a mythical creature, some kind of koi now on a woman’s body, she is able to propel her over the surface and back in, taking air during the jump. On the short intervals she is out of water, I managed to admire her butt, round, perfect like a peach, and her breasts, firm and with the same, proportionate curves.

– Hello! – I shout. I’m not able to wait anymore, I want to speak to her, to get her to realize me. I feel for a moment the urge to jump in the water, clothes included, and chase her until I manage to catch her, or at least, to touch her. Then I remember I’m the king’s messenger and I wait.

– Hello. – She leaves the water with natural movements that let me once more appreciate what a marvel of nature her body is. My eyes can’t move away from the space between her legs, where a deep, dark strand of hair seems to hide her magic. She realizes my interest but does nothing to cover it. Why should she? I did look for her. I try to look somewhere else. With my will, after a pause on her round, red nipples, I manage to reach her face, and finally, her eyes. – You are not from the village. Are you lost?

– Maybe – it’s the only thing I babble. I bow down to introduce myself to her. – I’m the king’s messenger. – I do not say my name on purpose. Names have power, and I don’t want her to have more power over me than the one she managed to achieve. Using the bow, I grab her geta and pass it to her. She then sits over a stone, ignoring her nakedness and the effect it causes on me. I gulp some air and continue, releasing my news. – I came here looking for you. The king wants you to come.

Brondignach (VII)

– We need to delete our tracks. – She brings the candle close to the silk string, that starts burning immediately. In a split second, there’s a line of fire between us and the table. – And now, we need to hide. Can you help me? – She lifts slightly her cute dress to reveal that she has a wooden leg. – This is not precisely helping me to run, you know.

– I didn’t know – I mutter. – How that happened? – I try to grab her by the waist without looking like an harasser. She lets me do it, and we start walking. Maybe I’m becoming more familiar with this world, maybe I am not trained to pay attention to it, but I’m shocked I didn’t even suspect there was something wrong with her leg.

He did it to me. – His “third person” is filled with hate. A hate so dense that it makes me forget about how she despise me. I feel guilty now of not being nicer than I was. I feel pity for her. And I have goosebumps imagining the giant performing experimental surgery on his new doll. She seems to feel my change of attitude, stops, and push me out of her range gently but vigorously. I release her waist with hesitation.

– Don’t patronize me. I do appreciate it, but all that happened was my fault. I hope we have time to speak about it when we find the burrow. – The doll comes closer. I take her under my grip again. I realize I didn’t ask her for a name, neither shared mine.

– Forgive me, mylady, but I didn’t introduce myself yet. – I make a break. She doesn’t seem to pay attention to me, her gaze focused beyond our little forest of wooden carpet knots. – I’m Carlos. Or I think I am. I don’t remember so much.

– Welcome Carlos. I’m Sienna. – She turns her head just to smile me. She is indeed beautiful, so beautiful that I could think she escaped from an old paint. Early twenty century, maybe. – I already nicknamed you Lancelot. Do you mind? – I nod. – I believe nicknames give you good luck. They help you to focus your image on the world. My first impression of you was not good, but you were lucky, and you didn’t seem to be unhappy about taking care of me if I ask. That’s why I named you Lancelot. Did you name me already? – We stop. The room wall is closer to us. We’ve been walking for around two hundred meters, and we still need to cover other fifty. I look at her.

– No, I didn’t name you. – I lie. – I was having other things in my mind, like to learn why we are here, and how to to come back. – That’s true. – Should I call you in any way?

– Only if it comes in you mind. – She looks at me to smile again. Maybe she thinks smiling is some kind of weapon against rude men. – Otherwise I will be pleased if you call me princess, like Trell was doing.

– Right, princess. Your highness, can we speak about what will be find in that burrow? – We started walking again. I look up. Now I don’t see the sky, just the moonlight going through the window up above us. From time to time, it get slightly darker, meaning outside we have clouds. Well, like everywhere on the planet.

– It’s just a hole. Not an unoccupied dwelling, not a secret castle, just a hole. Sorry if I created expectations, but the good thing is that they don’t know we have that place. So if they look for us, we’ll be there. Isn’t enough?

– Enough it is. – I prefer not to continue inquiring, I don’t want to destroy what we are building now, a very weak relation of utility. You give me, I give you.

We reach the gateway, and we enter in.

Brondignach (VI)

I can’t actually slide down the spider silk string. My first jump put to a test the strength of my anchorage, and it turned the cable loose. What the hell I was thinking? Maybe I was not thinking at all, I was just looking desperately for an exit. I remember knowing that people under stress tend to commit mistakes. Mine was to overestimate our capabilities. Mine, since I did nail the pin to the body and the velvet trade, and hers. How do I know she doesn’t want me to fall? How do I know I’m not sliding down to a trap? Maybe she has friends. Maybe she will blame me for the rest of our days together of the death of the boy… this… Trell. But I have no options. No alternative but to go ahead.

Pity that the connector is so sticky, otherwise I could use my shirt an the string as a zip line. And my stomach keeps groaning. Gosh, I’d love to have in front of me one of these Argentinian steaks, covered in ketchup…¬† when was the last time I enjoyed one of these, anyway? In Argentina? When was that? Oddly enough, I can remember clearly just my name, Carlos Sin, and nothing else. The rest is all mixed up, I think. Like the memories from a dream, I’m not able to focus on the details. Argentina for me is like a concept, I do remember the steak, where I was eating it, and a little bit of the decoration. Something about a horse. Maybe I could ride a horse. Yes I’m sure I can.

But what am I? What’s my job? When I try to remember, I see myself performing a lot of different tasks. Like going down a rope. It looks like I do know how to do this. When did I do it the last time? And more importantly, why?

– Are you coming? I’m getting sleepy! – I hurry up. As I said to the doll, I do remember going regularly to a gym. There I was executing my routine. Five kilometers on a belt. Some lifting. Some swimming. Then there was the circuit. Where was that? And why was I alone? Am I some kind of SWAT? Maybe a superhero?

– Here, mister. – A dim light is ahead of me. The carpet. I jump when I’m a couple of meters away from the point of anchor on the carpet. There she is, standing with a candle that she just fired, close to some kind of medieval canyon on vivid colors. I come closer to her position, trying to keep my pose on the way. What should I do? Kiss her? Thank her? She sees my doubts and acts firs by extending her hand with the palm down, like a princess would do. I take it and kiss it. – Welcome to your nightmare, my knight.