27

Swallowing, you step a little closer to the computer desk. Although your grandma hasn't mentioned the news article you read, you can't believe that this is a coincidence.

But when you meet your grandma's eye again, you don't see fear in her expression. More than anything, she simply looks focused.

"In one of the books that I gave to Dolores, there was a microchip which had a copy of that program on it," she tells you in a low voice. "It was only ever a very last resort; but it's one I've always kept in the back of my mind, just in case. But after you reminded me of it again, I suddenly had a new thought. Now that we've successfully transferred so much of our magic into digital storage, there may not be any need for a failsafe which 'erases' our magic. Instead—we might just be able to seal off any outside access to it."

One corner of her mouth twitches—and you realize that your grandma seems almost excited.

"What do you mean—'seal off'?"

Giving you a significant look, your grandma picks up a spare sheet of paper, crumples it up into a ball, and cups her hands around it.

"So much of our magic is already here—more or less ours, to do whatever we want with," she replies. "With some creative coding, I could put up a wall around it; block it off from the outside world. Then, at least in theory, nobody else would be able to reach it—but we would still be able to use it from here. We would have our own magical machine, just for us. We'd be able to do all the same things as ever, but with all the added potential of the digital as well. It would be like the most powerful computer imaginable."

As she speaks, your grandma grazes her fingers over the keyboard, seeming almost unable to pull away from it. On the monitors above, you can see pages of code—and you can only guess that your grandma has already been busy working on this idea for some time.

Trying to make some sense of all of that text, you think back to everything your grandma told you about digital magic. You've already seen it work once, back in the forest—but is what your grandma's saying now really possible? Could you seal your magic inside its computer storage, cutting it off from anybody and anything else?

And if you did—would it really just vanish from the town, from the forest, as if it never existed? With no need to ever think of it again? Would it really leave no trace that it was there?

"Would we really need to do that?" you murmur at last, breath catching in your throat. "I mean—even if someone did find out—"

"Huknock…"

your grandma's look is gentle, but her eyes are still as they linger on your face. Then, turning around, she makes a few clicks with her mouse, and on the central monitor you see the same news page appear that you had seen downstairs. With a pang in your stomach, you realize there can be no doubt as to why your grandma decided to show you all of this.

"With these developments—even without any kind of active investigation, there's still going to be more attention on the forest than ever. More movement, more things dug up and pushed around. They may not find anything, but I think we should be prepared for that possibility regardless. And…there are some things you still don't know. Please believe me when I say that there are some eventualities to which I think losing our magic would be preferable; but we don't have to make that choice any longer. We can keep our magic, and protect it from outside discovery. As I say, this is a last resort; but I think it's a pretty good one to have."

Leaning back in her chair, she looks up at you expectantly; purposefully. Even as her hands fidget slightly, she seems quite calm—and, as before, even a little excited. You get the sense that ever since this idea occured to her, she's been thinking of ways she could implement it; things she could do with it. Given how enthusiastic she was about the idea of enhancing a machine with magic, you can only imagine how she might have felt when she realized she might be able to have that same power—but for herself, and for yourself, alone.

Soon, letting out a small breath, your grandma smile.

"Don't worry, Huknock. This isn't something you need to dwell on; I just wanted you to know what I was thinking. If anything, I hope it might help you to feel a little less worried, if you were anxious at all about our magic. This code is far from finished, but I hope I might be able to get it into working order soon, in case we ever need it. If we ever did—you already know how to run it. I trust you to do it if at any point you ever felt it was necessary. Hopefully not, but…if we had to, we could."

Swallowing briefly, your grandma nods; and without pause turns back to her screens, telling you as she does that you're free to go along with your day. After a few seconds, you head out of the warm room and make for the stairs—but as you start to walk down, you think to yourself: what would really happen if you pressed that button? Would it really be like having all the forest's magic totally for yourselves?

Maybe your grandma has some reason to believe it could be safer that way. But at the same time—you just don't know if it would be right for anybody to have so much power all for themselves.

Even as you reach the downstairs hallway, you can still hear the sound of your grandma hurriedly typing. And part of you can't help but wonder whether this idea, with all the potential it might hold, is really such a "last resort" in your grandma's mind.

The End