I was born in Alittu, graduated in the top of my class, just when the Runes of Making had been discovered. What a time that was! With these new runes, we had separated magical force and intention from ritual. A mage could inscribe instruction and will without having to dance around, or throw dung, or chant mantras to focus one’s will. It was a transformation of the art.

It started the age of the magical machine, an industrial revolution. We created devices and foci that could enact force without our personal attention. Machines that dug into the earth for the metals and gems that we required, machines that wove, machines that constructed other machines. Alittu transformed, the world transformed, magic could be enacted without the mage. Our mathemagical equations could be enacted by those who did not even understand the theory.

I worked on the the Automata project. We were trying to create an automaton that did not need a mortal operator to talk it through every action, one that could do more than just repeat the same action. We tried many tactics, but every one was just so bloody stupid. The spirit binders were having much better luck, but the reliance upon the dead made many uncomfortable.

Then after an enlightening conversation with a traveling scholar, I had a breakthrough. Rather than teaching these automata how to succeed, I thought about the mathemagical principles of failure. We created a simple automata that we called Ahnket, and allowed it to try and accomplish some basic tasks. It was terrible. But over time, it got better, slowly learning from its mistakes. By the time I retired it had become a competent, if often clumsy, assistant. It could make me tea, which was a real comfort.