Looking back on my life I sometimes wonder how one man – and the one I’ve never even met, at that – could influence my life more than all the others combined. Well, maybe in terms of pure influence Justin DuMorne took the first place but if you looked for people who changed my life for the better… He never outright told me how to do things, what to think or how to act, but he always had an answer ready if I had a question and he never refused to hear my ramblings when I was working out a solution to some problem.
So when I announced my plans on working solo and asked Johnny if he had any tips for me he was more than willing to dispense his sage advice, as always.
The first one was fairly obvious: you can sleep in a gutter and eat out of a garbage bin but presentable office is an absolute must. Well, I already knew that people judge the looks first but Johnny further insisted that I limit the demonstration of my agency’s magical side to a minimum.
“You don’t want to be considered a fraud or attract only thrill-seekers and starry-eyed fanatics. When faced with trouble, especially of a supernatural kind, sensible people need the security of thinking that everything’s contained in the boundaries of normality and an expert in an appropriate field can give them a rational explanation.”
“But if they have a poltergeist problem they can’t just keep believing that they are experiencing minor earthquakes localized to their bedroom!”
“Look, Harry, it’s not your job to single-handedly enlighten the general populace about the affairs of the supernatural world and it’s dwellers. Normal people are not persuaded easily. And anyway, in most cases you’ll handle your clients won’t need this knowledge at all. You are going to take their money to solve their problems; the reputation of a man who can deal with any strangeness in a discreet manner will benefit you more that apparent eccentricity.”
So, that was that. At first glance my office looked decidedly mundane, but there was a little crystal pendant handing unobtrusively near a map of Chicagoland, a staff (fake, but looking authentic to an untrained eye) in a corner behind a filing cabinet and some light protection runes carved on the windowsills and around the door frame.
The second point was advertising. At first I wanted to proudly state in the yellow pages that I’m a wizard but that idea’s life was short and ended in disgrace on John’s merciless verbal guillotine.
“Do you really want this to work or is it a late blooming teenage rebellion?” he asked tersely. “Do you know what will reasonable people think if they see you under ‘wizards’?”
“You’re a reasonable man, you tell me!” I replied smartly.
“I would think that it was high time I found the annoying voice in my head and set him straight. Possibly with a birch-rod.”
“Hey, that’s child abuse!” I exclaimed, then thought some more and added: “Actually, I’m not a child so it’s armed assault.”
“You aren’t a child,” Johnny agreed solemnly, “so you need to stop playing games. We’ve talked about it before: you can’t shove magic in people’s faces – they simply won’t take you seriously. Your clients need deniability for their own peace of mind. You only need to hint that any potential weirdness would be taken in stride and that’ll be quite enough, I promise you.”
If I had any doubts that Johnny was a businessman they were quickly and decisively put to rest. It was tough at first but over the course of a single year my little agency flourished. I sometimes got an impression that information about me spread faster through word of mouth – at least half of my clients heard about me from friends, colleagues or neighbors instead of an add. I once read that if you take a random Joe from Alaska and an equally random Ann from Australia and examine their social circles you’ll find that statistically they are connected through no more than seven people that are consecutively acquainted to each other. My guess is that in Chicago this chain shortens drastically because I was soon feeling like everybody knew whom to turn to in case of unexplainable incidents or silly little things that others refused to consider (the sign on my door stated that no trouble is too small - the slogan was solely my invention). I was also in contact with several small time practitioners and sometimes helped the beginners to get a better grip on their gifts.
I was still not telling John all the particulars of my day-to-day life but he was generally aware of my triumphs. Actually, sometimes I felt a bit bad because of my resolution not to lean too heavily him but in the end I convinced myself that I didn’t distract Johnny from his own daily pursuits and that it was quite normal to ask a more experienced friend for advice. To further placate my conscience I decided to help him in return.
What can a young wizard do for his imaginary friend? Obviously, some magic. Of course, I couldn’t do it myself but I instructed him in simple ways of defending against supernatural attacks. I mean, most circles are closed with an exertion of will and Johnny had will in abundance. There were other elementary things like iron nails, horseshoes and hematite but when I moved on to planting violets and binding rowan twigs with red string my friend accused me of having a laugh at his expense. Oh well, I did all I could for the magically illiterate.
~!~
The first time police asked me for help I was truly unexpected. Karrin Murphy – head of the Special Investigations department – needed no deniability and coddling since she’d already encountered her fair share of things that go bump in the night. All she asked for was an explanation on which she could base her strategy. If the criminal was caught (or at least stopped without a chance of harming anyone else) she was satisfied. That’s not to say that she was easily accepting of my tales of trolls killing bums under bridges and pixies stealing jewelry but she was at least willing to give them the benefit of doubt which was much more that normal people could boast.
After my third police consultation – when it became obvious that there was always some nasty or other lurking in the background and the SI was happy with the was I was handling them – I figured I needed some credentials. John was right saying that people tended to reject anything that didn’t fit into their image of normalcy, so if I wanted a job with the police I couldn’t just say I was providing magical assistance.
It’s amazing what courses – mailing or otherwise – one can find if he simply puts him mind to it. In two months flat I was in possession of a certificate that was going to officially cover my ass. It stated that I was an expert in obscure cults and religions which was undoubtedly helpful when dealing with maniacs who fancied themselves warlocks and worshipped bloodthirsty gods that required regular virginal sacrifices. (I freely admit to not attending most of the lessons and cheating on the final test but my knowledge is far more sound than anything a professor can teach in the classroom). Lt. Murphy was impressed with my business savvy and in no time at all I was an official police consultant in occult crime.
All in all, my life was pretty interesting in a good kind of way at least partly due to Johnny’s advice. And – if I wanted to get mushy – I could say that even on the bad days I was warmed by the knowledge that he was always only one thought away.
~!~
I just couldn't resist Marcone checking Harry's most absurd ideas. And to think, I was hoping to get to the Storm Front in this part already...
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timeasmymeasure
My (not so) Imaginary Friend (4/hopefully no more than 8)
Date: 2011-03-26 08:58 pm (UTC)So when I announced my plans on working solo and asked Johnny if he had any tips for me he was more than willing to dispense his sage advice, as always.
The first one was fairly obvious: you can sleep in a gutter and eat out of a garbage bin but presentable office is an absolute must. Well, I already knew that people judge the looks first but Johnny further insisted that I limit the demonstration of my agency’s magical side to a minimum.
“You don’t want to be considered a fraud or attract only thrill-seekers and starry-eyed fanatics. When faced with trouble, especially of a supernatural kind, sensible people need the security of thinking that everything’s contained in the boundaries of normality and an expert in an appropriate field can give them a rational explanation.”
“But if they have a poltergeist problem they can’t just keep believing that they are experiencing minor earthquakes localized to their bedroom!”
“Look, Harry, it’s not your job to single-handedly enlighten the general populace about the affairs of the supernatural world and it’s dwellers. Normal people are not persuaded easily. And anyway, in most cases you’ll handle your clients won’t need this knowledge at all. You are going to take their money to solve their problems; the reputation of a man who can deal with any strangeness in a discreet manner will benefit you more that apparent eccentricity.”
So, that was that. At first glance my office looked decidedly mundane, but there was a little crystal pendant handing unobtrusively near a map of Chicagoland, a staff (fake, but looking authentic to an untrained eye) in a corner behind a filing cabinet and some light protection runes carved on the windowsills and around the door frame.
The second point was advertising. At first I wanted to proudly state in the yellow pages that I’m a wizard but that idea’s life was short and ended in disgrace on John’s merciless verbal guillotine.
“Do you really want this to work or is it a late blooming teenage rebellion?” he asked tersely. “Do you know what will reasonable people think if they see you under ‘wizards’?”
“You’re a reasonable man, you tell me!” I replied smartly.
“I would think that it was high time I found the annoying voice in my head and set him straight. Possibly with a birch-rod.”
“Hey, that’s child abuse!” I exclaimed, then thought some more and added: “Actually, I’m not a child so it’s armed assault.”
“You aren’t a child,” Johnny agreed solemnly, “so you need to stop playing games. We’ve talked about it before: you can’t shove magic in people’s faces – they simply won’t take you seriously. Your clients need deniability for their own peace of mind. You only need to hint that any potential weirdness would be taken in stride and that’ll be quite enough, I promise you.”
If I had any doubts that Johnny was a businessman they were quickly and decisively put to rest. It was tough at first but over the course of a single year my little agency flourished. I sometimes got an impression that information about me spread faster through word of mouth – at least half of my clients heard about me from friends, colleagues or neighbors instead of an add. I once read that if you take a random Joe from Alaska and an equally random Ann from Australia and examine their social circles you’ll find that statistically they are connected through no more than seven people that are consecutively acquainted to each other. My guess is that in Chicago this chain shortens drastically because I was soon feeling like everybody knew whom to turn to in case of unexplainable incidents or silly little things that others refused to consider (the sign on my door stated that no trouble is too small - the slogan was solely my invention). I was also in contact with several small time practitioners and sometimes helped the beginners to get a better grip on their gifts.
I was still not telling John all the particulars of my day-to-day life but he was generally aware of my triumphs. Actually, sometimes I felt a bit bad because of my resolution not to lean too heavily him but in the end I convinced myself that I didn’t distract Johnny from his own daily pursuits and that it was quite normal to ask a more experienced friend for advice. To further placate my conscience I decided to help him in return.
What can a young wizard do for his imaginary friend? Obviously, some magic. Of course, I couldn’t do it myself but I instructed him in simple ways of defending against supernatural attacks. I mean, most circles are closed with an exertion of will and Johnny had will in abundance. There were other elementary things like iron nails, horseshoes and hematite but when I moved on to planting violets and binding rowan twigs with red string my friend accused me of having a laugh at his expense. Oh well, I did all I could for the magically illiterate.
The first time police asked me for help I was truly unexpected. Karrin Murphy – head of the Special Investigations department – needed no deniability and coddling since she’d already encountered her fair share of things that go bump in the night. All she asked for was an explanation on which she could base her strategy. If the criminal was caught (or at least stopped without a chance of harming anyone else) she was satisfied. That’s not to say that she was easily accepting of my tales of trolls killing bums under bridges and pixies stealing jewelry but she was at least willing to give them the benefit of doubt which was much more that normal people could boast.
After my third police consultation – when it became obvious that there was always some nasty or other lurking in the background and the SI was happy with the was I was handling them – I figured I needed some credentials. John was right saying that people tended to reject anything that didn’t fit into their image of normalcy, so if I wanted a job with the police I couldn’t just say I was providing magical assistance.
It’s amazing what courses – mailing or otherwise – one can find if he simply puts him mind to it. In two months flat I was in possession of a certificate that was going to officially cover my ass. It stated that I was an expert in obscure cults and religions which was undoubtedly helpful when dealing with maniacs who fancied themselves warlocks and worshipped bloodthirsty gods that required regular virginal sacrifices. (I freely admit to not attending most of the lessons and cheating on the final test but my knowledge is far more sound than anything a professor can teach in the classroom). Lt. Murphy was impressed with my business savvy and in no time at all I was an official police consultant in occult crime.
All in all, my life was pretty interesting in a good kind of way at least partly due to Johnny’s advice. And – if I wanted to get mushy – I could say that even on the bad days I was warmed by the knowledge that he was always only one thought away.
I just couldn't resist Marcone checking Harry's most absurd ideas. And to think, I was hoping to get to the Storm Front in this part already...