Omnipotence

“The ant thinks he knows the answers,” said Mage, “What say you to that?”  He pushed his shoulders back against the cool wall and settled his legs into a more comfortable position under his robes. Mage was old as dirt and the boy was young, only six years. Entitled enough to think he knew it all and yet, not old enough to know just how little he really knew.

Ignoring the teacher’s question, the boy poked another crumb of bread through the top of the enclosure, dropping it in the path of the next ant in line. The ant inspected the crumb with its antennae and deciding it worthy, hoisted it, and fell in line with the others. The boy put his face close to the glass, observing the ants who were oblivious to his observation. On impulse, he gave the housing a rough shake, upsetting the tiny residents. He laughed out loud, a cruel, satisfied cackle.

“I’ll bet they don’t know the answers now,” he said. Mage studied the boy. The little shit was catching on; maybe too quickly. The teacher stood, stretched and poured a cup of tea from the table nearby. Offering it to the boy, he let go just a little too soon and the cup slipped from his outreached hand and fell to the floor, breaking into shards.

The boy cut his eyes disrespectfully at the teacher and called to the nursemaid who was always close at hand, hovering in the hallways just out of sight, waiting for the spoiled little brat to express a need.

“Nurse! Come quickly and clean this mess.”  But she was already halfway across the room, towel in tow. The mess was cleared and their studies resumed. The boy missed that lesson completely.

“Practice your levitation skills,” instructed Mage. He demonstrated what he meant by causing an ant, who was busy re-organizing his world, to rise to the top of the enclosure still holding a particle of dirt. The boy tried, holding his hand over the ant he intended to raise, but the ant carried on as if nothing was changed, still rushing to aid of his companions rebuilding the nest. The boy concentrated, turning red in the face, but nothing happened. He gave up, throwing his hands down in frustration. He kicked the ant enclosure across the room.

“This is stupid, your lessons are useless, Master.”  His lips curled in a way that looked out of place on a child so young.

Mage raised a hand over the boy’s head and slowly the boy lifted from the ground. He waved his arms and paddled his legs trying to maintain his balance, a look of utter shock and fear on his face. His teacher had never practiced the magic lessons on him before, only upon the smaller creatures at their disposal. It was a dangerous move on Mage’s part, but it would keep the boy in line a bit longer. The fat little fucker flailed his arms and legs, his throat too constricted to let out the scream that was lodged there. Before he hyperventilated, or crapped himself, Mage lowered him to the ground. Soon enough, the boy would learn the magic and if he was careless and taught him too much, the boy would one day wield it against him. But for now, it was a useful demonstration.

The teacher leaned down so his pupil could hear over the subsiding heartbeats in his ears.

“Every creature in a position of power over the smaller world around him, thinks he knows the answers.” He paused to give the words time to sink in. “Until the powerful creature realizes that there is power yet still above his own,” he added.

A dawn of comprehension crossed the boy’s face and he raised his eyes to Mage.

“Master, do you think the villagers knew the answers before my father’s troops harvested them?”

————-

This story was posted to http://crossedgenres.com/haiti/ on 1-16-10 as my contribution to the cause. Please pay the website a visit and donate to one of the charities if you can!