"Blasted wizards." Muttered Rathar. His companion glanced at him.

"Aren't you one?"

"Yeah, but I'm talking about the bloody headmasters." Firan nodded.

"Sent you out on another mission?"

"Yeah, its not like I blew up the whole lab." Rathar said bitterly.

Firan briefly considered the fact that he was lucky in having a shop near enough to be an undesirable spot and far enough to be safe. This was uncomfortably tested when the university blew up. He had to get a wizard to realign the reality.

"Uh huh."

Taking no notice of his companion's apparent sarcasm Rathar called to Firan to hurry up. Firan groaned. Rathar was obviously going to buy spells. Having tried to talk him out of it countless times before he knew that Rathar was, once again, going to be cheated out of his money. Never mind that Rathar was himself a wizard. He stubbornly persisted in buying spells from the shadiest character possible. Firan suspected darkly that he did this on purpose.

From far off he could hear them carrying on. Firan wandered through the marketplace, comparing items and occasionally ducking as the barely audible argument grew louder. Nearly every one else did too. The only ones remaining upright the whole time were the people who were new, or actually believed in the amulets that they were wearing, or peddling. Ever since the introduction of Rathar there formed a Peddler's Guild. An extension of it monitored Rathar's days in the market and amulet peddlers present that day. All of them who was in the same shape and in fit condition by the time he left was presented with a certificate of authenticy. Firan kept one in his pocket, but ducked nevertheless. A tiny enchanted jewel wasn't going to be much help if Rathar had learned something with a material component – or, in layman terms, a huge boulder came hurling at you. He was pondering buying some healing crystals when he heard what he was waiting for. Everyone threw themselves to the ground. The newer ones took their cue and threw themselves to the ground too. Then everything went white.

When Firan woke up, he was in a haystack. As his mind gradually woke up he began to notice a field of corn. He was apparently in a barn that overlooked it. Farther down he saw rolling fields of green, sometimes interrupted by a straight, black, road. At least that's what he thought it was. No road he'd ever seen was black, or for that matter, completely straight. The sky was overcast and it raining steadily, soaking into the ground.

He heaved himself out of the haystack and went off to search for Rathar. This didn't take long. He was apparently right next to him, just outside his viewing range. He shook him, rather roughly, as he was to blame for his current mess.

"Grmmm…."

"Get up!"

He rolled out of the impromptu bed and surveyed the surroundings. When he saw the road he stopped and exclaimed loudly. "What in the hell is that?!"

"Eh? Who's there?" They spun around to meet a man, similar to Firan in stature, walking around the corner. Seeing them, he stopped and waved a threatening fist at them. "We don't take kindly to people who impose on our house."

Standing up, Firan cut a figure a good six inches taller than him. Speaking apologetically he said "Sorry to intrude upon your hospitality, but we've lost our way…"

Still suspicious, the man continued questioning them. "What? Don't you damn foreigners have you cars and other self-serving whatnot? Or are you getting a 'feel' for rustic people?"

Confused, Rathar spoke up. "Car? Do you mean cart?"

The stranger glanced at him, his anger transmuted into confusion by Rathar's innocence. "Well, you certainly look like a foreigner, you speak English well, but then again, you seem not to understand what a car is…" The man pondered for a while, looking at Rathar and Firan, and muttered "and one of them wears a dress…"

Rathar had born many insults in with his spectacular way of annoying all of his superiors and people who had been near him who were incompatible with his personality (read – just about everyone). Several of those insults capitalized on the wizardly robes, but it still stung to have a complete stranger attack him on his style of clothing.

'They're robes" He snapped, rather coldly.

The stranger glanced at Firan's sword and the leather straps that secured it to his belt. He then looked again at the staff Rathar was holding. After some thought, he looked back at the mud outside, which held only his footprints.

"You'd better come with me."

Frank's mind was awhirl with thoughts. The two had seemingly come from nowhere. Even stranger, they seemed to have stepped straight of a fantasy novel. Though he used very little technology, as was his small group that kept their minds and bodies pure, he doubted that this would be a problem. He wasn't Amish, but the non-reliance on technology kept the children from degenerating into, as he thought of them, sniveling weaklings with no patience whatsoever.

Tromping up the steps he re-engaged the conversation.

"So what's your name? Mine is Frank" Frank, in his many years of deflecting derision and scorn from people who sneered at his lifestyle, found that knowing their names helped establish better relations.

Firan nodded at him and spoke up "Mine is Firan, his is Rathar". Rathar was still snubbing him, obviously hurt by the dress reference.

Stepping inside the doorway, Frank led them inside. Unsure of what to do, he was thankful that the children and his wife weren't home. Briefly, he considered calling the police, but then he realized that it would be extremely prejudiced of him to just call the police without hearing out the story. Acting as one in a dream, the pair looked around, reacting surprised to the smallest things, from the electrical plugs in the wall to the telephone. Good thing these two weren't in a city Frank thought wryly, or else their brains would explode within the first ten minutes. Arriving in his living room, the group sat down on the soft, pink, sofas and Frank leaned forwards to talk.

"So, where are you from?"

Glancing at each other, Firan and Rathar instantly communicated the fact that as of now, it might not be wise to communicate that they were from another world. "Not here" Firan said succinctly.

Seeing that they weren't going to give up any more information, he quickly abandoned that line of inquiry and moved on to other matters. They probably would reveal more as they came to trust him. Right now he would focus on the matter of their clothing.

Firan acquiesced to Frank's demands quietly enough, but Rathar was adamant about the change, or in this case, not changing.

"How else would they know I was a…er…wizard?! Not that I'm against commoners mind you." Rathar added at the look on Frank's face.

Frank was thinking of a way to break it to Rathar gently that there was no such thing as magic. In fact, he was hoping that Rathar would resist so he could have a serious discussion. It had been a while since he had had one since all the non-believers had recently taken to avoiding him.

"Look chap, there's not such thing as magic."

Rathar frowned and waved at him. "Don't be foolish, of course there is magic"

Frank sighed, he saw the final blow, the one thing that would shatter his argument into a million bits. He had hoped that Rathar would give him a run for his money, but the end of the argument was in sight. "If so, then why don't you show me?"

"Err…"

"Exactly!"

Firan winced and crept to another chair. Rathar stood up, fingered the air for a moment and evaluated the runes that he would use to assemble a spell. This universe seemed to have a damper on them though, so he would have to expend twice the amount of energy casting it. This didn't really matter to Rathar, as several acres of scorched earth attested to his magical energy. He pushed the spell through and mouthed the words.

A foot-wide ball of fire sprang from his fingers, dreamily wafted over to the wall, burned a hole through it and fused the soil outside into glassy smoothness. Satisfied with his point, Rathar turned and triumphantly announced. "Take that you son of a mother!" He then noticed Frank staring at the hole, mumbling incoherently.

His brain , having just about all its beliefs re-evaluated, quickly shunted the new experience inside, accounted for the fact that there was magic, but in all other cases resumed function normally. Only when he was forced to act upon that idea would he think about it.

"So your saying that this world is like ours, yet there are certain differences?"

"…you could say that about everything."

Frank found himself annoyed that they had taken it so casually, then he shook out the notion, convinced that it resulted directly from TV's influence. Interrupting them, he announced triumphantly " I give you, Electricity!"

Rathar scoffed at this in face of the current evidence " Electricity only exists in fantasy novels!"

Firan, who usually listened and let the talk flow around him, spoke up at this point. " Maybe we should sit down and talk."

Rathar went first. He talked hesitantly, the idea of drawing upon the environment as opposed to yourself was quite alien to him, but he soon warmed to his subject.

He started talking about how magic was inherent in everybody, as the very fabric of the universe, then he explained how most people could cast the simple spells, such as to heat their water, or increase their strength.

However, certain people had more Magical Energy (also called mana) than others. These, if they desired to, could apply to an University where they are taught how to increase their mana, and taught other spells. There is a slew of subjects ranging from Experimental Theory to the many variations of Science. He, Rathar explained, specialized in advanced defense and offense to fight what is commonly defined as evil.

"And the people who aren't as gifted?" Frank's mind had drifted to the various novels where the magic users had established themselves as the aristocracy.

"Just about everyone has the capability to do basic spells, they can apply to go to the gym and increase their talents. There are reported cases where an average person raised him/herself to the level of a mage by use of these gyms." Firan supplied helpfully.

Glaring at Firan Rathar resumed his ovation. "Magic also slowly recharges over time, and can be stored in just about anything, though crystals are the norm. This is useful since raw magic dwindles away quickly.

"Its also possible to make sure that a stored form of magic can only be used one way, like a heal spell or something."

"And your world? How is your environment?"

"Mostly wilderness, with several towns. Many species evolved to co-exist with magic, and they're the most dangerous."

"Like dragons?"

Rathar recoiled in shock. "How'd you learn about that?! Dragons can't exist in this world, if magic is so scarce!" He paused a second. "Unless…we weren't the first…"

Another silence joined the first.

Frank coughed "Well, I'm not a acquaintance of electricity, but I know someone who can find out." Frank grimly stalked to the front door and rammed a hat onto his head.

He was thinking of an old acquaintance who, though exposed to the supposedly dehabilitating effects of technology, still maintained his personal integrity.

His name was Phred.

Frank ushered them into the car, which, to Rathar's amusement, Frank believed would go at speeds faster than horse back, or for that matter, walking.

Slamming the door, Frank slowly backed out, and began their journey.

Rathar, accustomed to high-speed magical vehicles, looked out with unconcealed wonder. True to Frank's assurances, the speeds reached soon matched the ones of the magical transfers at home. Another reason was that glass was relatively scarce, requiring much skill to mold by hand and even then, it was usually expensive baubles that sat on mantles to pointedly show the visitor that they were richer than them. Additionally, due to electricity, all that was required was money and the user's concentration. And even the user's concentration might be optional, as he witnessed a driver whiz by while reading a book.

Electricity was rarely used on his world. He had never thought about the uses of electricity other than to fry people alive, but this new scope of things presented many new possibilities. He turned to Firan "Isn't this exciting?"

Firan was too sick to answer "Mfmgib"

Rathar ignored Firan "Think of the possibilities! We could expand at a rate unprecedented! Magic would only be needed to provide electricity, or to locate it. If we supplement both we'll be unstoppable!"

Frank spoke up "What about the environment?"

"What about the environment?"

"Ah." Frank paused. "You know, some of the stuff that's been happening has been pretty bad to the environment. Thousands of species dying out…"

"Serves em right for not evolving."

"…rising amounts of birth defects…"

"Serves em right for not reading the label."

"…lands rendered unlivable for thousands of years…"

"Serves em right for getting on our bad side."

Frank gave up "Nevermind."

The city was visible even from several miles away. When Rathar saw it, it cleared all doubts about Frank's statement out of his head. If man could accomplish this just by technology Rathar was convinced that this invention would bring about a boon unlike any other. And the people! It was similar to a major town back in his homeland on market day. However, in a strange departure from his homeland, none of them were selling or buying anything, and just about all of them were talking on small plastic devices while avoiding each other's eye contact.

"They're phones. You use them to talk to other people who have phones."

"What if they don't have phones?"

"Trust me, everyone has phones."

"What if they don't though?" Firan persisted.

"Then they risk being isolated with only their neighbors to talk to."

"Can't they wal…Watch out!"

Frank swerved to avoid a car whose inhabitant was clearly peeling an apple and letting the car drive itself. "They're too lazy to walk." He spat. His overwhelming dislike of too much technology was starting to come into conflict with his immediate environment. His normally amiable nature was starting to wear thin. Thankfully, they soon arrived at the apartment complex where Phred said he lived.

Climbing out of the car they briskly walked, or in Firan's case, staggered, to the room 128 and knocked on the door.

After 15 minutes of waiting out in the cold drizzle Phred finally answered the door. "Sorry, I was in the…Oh! Hey Frank! You finally want to learn about technology? Always knew you would succumb to the inevitable press of progress! Come in!"

Frank waved him off. "Not me, these two." He pointed at Firan and Rathar. Quickly introducing them, Frank ushered them inside before Phred could protest.

Phred eyed the two suspiciously. Even though Frank had toned down the original fantasy-esque look, they still contrasted dramatically with the original environment. Rathar had a white T-shirt with the words "Wizzard" hastily scrawled across and Firan still had a sword strapped to his back. They looked, in fact, like two people that walked right out of a fantasy novel. Shrugging off the fact as the result of a rambling mind he closed the door behind him.

The room that greeted them was a small, two-room apartment with a mattress resting directly on the floor along with a computer. In the other was a microwave, a small table, and a trash can that, upon closer inspection, would reveal several packs of empty ramen bowls.

Frank looked around bemusedly. "Phred, I thought you said you were earning millions a year working for some company or another." He rummaged through the trash can. "Heck, I can afford better stuff than this."

"What can I say? I'm addicted." He looked around "I like this place too much to leave it"

Rathar coughed, indicating not-so-politely that they were here and ready to be attended to.

Phred glared at him. "This might take a while. Sit down."

It did take a while. It took the rest of the day, and shortly into the night as he explained light, movement, weapons and the taming of nature. He told of space exploration, vaccines, and third-world countries. Hiroshima, neutrinos, phones, cars, the space-time continuum, social orders and airplanes were all explained and tossed away to make way for the next advancement. Then he got to computers. Considered the pinnacle of human achievement Phred soon waxed lyrical about it. Considering that he wasn't much of a poet, and also that just about all of this was unexplored territory, he was stopped many times by their questions.

"You've gone past the boundaries of our mortal birthplace?!" Firan was astounded.

"Aye, I mean, yea, I mean…whatever" The medieval brogue was affecting Phred. He was adopting a niggling feeling that he was obligated to speak that way.

"Is it true that the stars are merely divine paint upon a heavenly shell?"

"Nay, the stars are typically flaming balls of gas several hundreds of millions of kilometers wide floating in space. They range from tiny compact balls that bend the very fabric of reality to gigantic spheres that are capable of destroying the earth many times over."

"Balls of fire a million miles wide?" Firan silenced Rathar with a glare. Rathar was actually covering up his usual low-grade aura of contempt with bluster. This was another paradigm shift he was experiencing in the short span of a day. Not that he actually bought into the rubbish about the priests. Being a wizard, Rathar distrusted priests since they, technically, had a direct line to the gods. Because of this, they could say "Give me your gold because ye gods haf said it be thus. Chop chop." And people would believe them. Not that gods didn't exist, he'd seen a couple in his life, but he doubted that the divine purpose of gods were to line people's pockets.

Even so, the universe was suddenly a vaster place than he could even imagine, and he, Rathar, was suddenly feeling very, very, small.

Shaking off the feeling Rathar continued. "And these computers that you seem to revered so highly?"

Phred scowled. "They're just tools. Not some altar to a god."

"You'd be surprised."

"The pinnacle of civilization."

Rathar peered at the rather plain metal box in front of him. Then he kicked it.

"Doesn't seem that sturdy. Or pointy." He remarked as Phred scrambled to cover it.

Firan nudged Rathar "Don't be so sarcastic, we have a lot to learn here."

Phred pressed the on button and sat down. "Don't. Do. Anything" He said through gritted teeth as the computer booted up.

Frank looked on bemusedly since, even through all his years of friendship with Phred, he still hadn't had the opportunity to witness him in action. Truth be told, he was a bit curious about what Phred actually did on the computer.

The screen flickered to life as Phred seated himself in front of it and, with a flourish, swung about to face Rathar. "Computer control a large majority of what people do here. If you can master it, you can do just about anything!"

Rathar paused doubtfully "Really?"

"No, but you can use it to do research, contact other people, control other machines, and play games." Phred detected some doubt and hurried on. "More sophisticated ones control the power, launch space shuttles, and, um, control weapons of mass destruction."

"Weapons of mass destruction?" Rathar responded eagerly.

"Now you've gone and done it." Firan groaned.

"Well, not really. These only destroy everything in a 3 mile diameter and render it uninhabitable for the next thousand years or so. Not that it can compare with anything you have."

"Yes. It can, at least, to spells you want to learn in under a year. Speaking of learning…" Rathar elbowed Phred out of his chair and slid into the chair before he could react. Pausing for a second while he stared at the keyboard (In his world, the qwerty keyboard was never used, as it was simpler just to enchant the typewriter to type faster than the person could enter commands) before he spun a simple enchantment to make it recognize voice commands. By that time, however, Phred had walked onto the balcony.

At this point any decent narrative would have Phred take out a cigarette and proceed to smoke it gloomily. Phred, however, didn't smoke. He deeply mistrusted any chemicals that went into his body that he didn't know the effects of, even if he ate ramen often. He looked gloomily over the city, with its background music of car horns, the low mumble of people talking, and the occasional low thumping of a boom box car driving through the streets and wondered how Frank had ever come to associate with a bunch of weirdos as Firan and Rathar. He had first become friends with Frank when he wandered over to his community, ready to laugh at them for forsaking technology. Instead, he became friends with Frank, seeing him as a counter-part to his chaotic nature, a rock-steady, dependable person he could rely on. It wasn't like his to subscribe to rubbish like magic unless…he…believed it…

Phred ran back inside quickly.