Testimony and Questioning of Witness Number 18: Isaac Vainio

The CHAIRMAN: This hearing will come to order.

It’s my privilege and honor to welcome the members of the Joint Committee on Magical Security, as well as the witnesses who have been called to testify as we help to shape the future of this great nation during this time of worldwide turmoil and conflict.

Mister Vainio, thank you for taking time from your work with New Millennium to join us today.

Mr. VAINIO: Your invitation made it clear I didn’t have a choice.

The CHAIRMAN: Do you affirm that the testimony you will give before this committee is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?

Mr. VAINIO: Aren’t I supposed to be sworn in on a Bible?

The CHAIRMAN: For security reasons, no books will be permitted in the chamber during your testimony.

Mr. VAINIO: Don’t worry, I’m not about to try libriomancy with a Bible, or any other religious text. Gutenberg might have been able to handle that kind of intensity and belief, but—oh, sorry. Yes, I do so affirm.

The CHAIRMAN: Thank you. You may be seated. Mr. Vainio, would you please—what is that?

Mr. VAINIO: His name is Smudge. He’s a fire-spider.He’s perfectly safe as long as he’s in his cage. Don’t go poking your fingers in there, though. He’s my service animal. My lawyer advised me this was permitted under disability law.

Mr. CHILDRESS: You have a service spider?

Mr. VAINIO: He senses danger. Like Spider-Man. Having him around helps me with some . . . anxiety issues. It’s been a traumatic few years. I have a letter from my therapist if you’d like to see it.

The CHAIRMAN: That won’t be necessary. For the record, please state your history and current role with the organization known as the Porters.

Mr. VAINIO: I’ve been a member of the Porters—intermittently—for about seven years, working to protect the world from magical threats. I’ve been a cataloguer, field agent, and researcher. Ten months back, I helped to found the New Millennium project in Nevada, where I currently work as Director of Research and Development.

The CHAIRMAN: Ten months. That would be shortly after you announced the existence of magic to the world.

Mr. VAINIO: Correct.

The CHAIRMAN: You constructed New Millennium in the United States. You yourself are an American citizen, born and raised in Michigan. Are you loyal to this country, Isaac?

Mr. VAINIO: How do you mean?

The CHAIRMAN: There are hundreds of you libriomancers scattered throughout the world, and thousands of other creatures. Vampires and merfolk and werewolves and bigfoots and Heaven knows what else. What assurances does this committee have that you won’t turn against the United States of America? How do we prevent people like you from selling your abilities to the highest bidder?

Mr. VAINIO: Maybe you could start by not treating us all like potential criminals and terrorists.




Chapter 1

“You didn’t think this would be easy, did you?”

“I knew there’d be conflict. Fear. And yah, violence too.”

“You’re mincing words. The world is headed for war.”

“Humanity has been at war for more than ninety percent of recorded history.”

“Not like this. What you’ve seen over this past year is only the beginning. The warm-up act, if you will.”

“Says you. Not even magic can see the future.”

“Not magic. Experience. I watched humanity for centuries. They fear you. Humanity works to control what it fears, and to destroy what it can’t control.”

“You’re a pessimist. Also an asshole.”

“Neither of those facts changes the truth. Your actions helped bring the world to this precipice.”

“And yours didn’t?”

“They did, but let’s be pragmatic, shall we? Of the two of us, only one is in a position to affect current events.”

“One of the advantages of not being dead, eh?”

*****

You'd think my time in the field fighting everything from possessed libriomancers to magically animated metal monstrosities to a thousand-year-old dead necromancer would have prepared me for an afternoon testifying before a pack of Washington politicians, but by the time I emerged, I longed for the simplicity of a rabid were-jaguar whose motivation was straightforward, foamy-jawed murder.

I ignored the reporters waiting in the hallway and made my way toward a wooden bench where Lena Greenwood sat whispering with Nicola Pallas and Nidhi Shah.

“Well?” asked Nicola.

“I understand now why a group of vultures is called a committee. I didn’t turn any of them into roaches, if that’s what you’re asking.” Though in several cases, it would have been an improvement. “Why drag us out here when they’ve already decided we’re the biggest threat to world peace since the atom bomb?”

“To show that they can.” Nidhi had been a psychiatrist for Die Zwelf Portenære, the magical—and until recently, secret—organization better known as the Porters, for as long as I’d known her. Of the four of us, she was the only one with no inherent magical abilities of her own. She got paid to keep the rest of us magic-users sane. Her job was far more challenging than my own.

She’d dressed conservatively for her testimony earlier today, in a simple black jacket and matching trousers, with a subdued blue shirt and a minimum of her usual jewelry. “And a few minds haven’t yet clamped shut. Senator Clarke supports the Porters and our work. Representatives Hays and Hoffman have spoken out against the overreactions from Homeland Security and the FBI, and Secretary McGinley at DHS has said he’d be willing to sit down with representatives from different inhuman communities.”

“Our job now is to demonstrate to the world that we’re not a threat.” A pair of white earbuds hung around Nicola’s neck like a pair of anorexic pet snakes humming a faint jazz tune. She reached into her jacket pocket, and the music died a moment later. “Be thankful it isn’t worse. The Chinese Central Military Commission charged Shin-Tsu Chang with treason last month.”

Shin-Tsu Chang and Nicola Pallas were two of the six Council Masters who had taken over the Porters after the death of Johannes Gutenberg last year. I didn’t know Nicola’s Chinese counterpart well, but I’d read and respected most of his magical research from the past two decades. “Is he safe?”

“For now,” said Nicola.

Lena took my hand as we walked down the hall. “Try to think positive. If they do decide to throw us all into internment camps, you could stop stressing about that IRS audit.”

“What’s the IRS going to do, take my house?” I snorted. My home had burned to the ground last year, and I’d been commuting between a little apartment in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and my quarters at New Millennium ever since.

“As of this morning, they’re also suing the Porters for centuries of back taxes,” said Nicola. “One of our lawyers will be in...