The Slow Inch of Unproductive Time
Many of the questions I receive regarding my work as a Mid-Level Mage at the Grand Celestio Council of Wizards revolve around how us mages keep our cool when we are in the thick of it, when the requests of clients push our magical capabilities to their limits and there’s seven million requests to split among seven wizards. We are, of course, incredibly capable under pressure, and please refer to letter 4 for a more detailed account proving such, but I have to say, I think it’s far more impressive that we as mages are able to survive the slow, boring days.
Imagine, if you will, several wizards sitting idly in the same room of a demi-plane, discouraged from working on personal projects or communicating with friends outside of work lest they get distracted and become unproductive. And yet, there’s nothing to do in the demi-plane. No requests to work on, no questions to answer, no actively brewing cauldrons to keep from bubbling over. Just several wizards sitting in a demi-plane room twiddling their thumbs, and if you know anything about wizards, you know we do not like having nothing to do with our hands.
Now imagine this stillness lasting for several hours until suddenly, a bird crashes into a window with a letter attached to one of its legs. Why we have windows in the demi-plane is still unclear to me. If an inter-realm dwelling creature wants to push its way into the council workplace, a couple panes of stained glass aren’t going to stop it (and before you ask, no, the glass isn’t enchanted either I’ve already asked). But the glass does stop the messenger bird, and thus we need to let it in.
All the wizards rise from their seats in unison, and though they do not stoop so low as to run to the window, everyone is trying to get there first. The reason for this is simple; whoever lets the bird in has the most likely chance of catching the bird’s attention with the seed we each keep in our workspaces, and whoever wrangles the bird gets to open the message attached. If the letter tied to the bird’s leg is what we hope it is, a request for magical aid from a client, whoever claims the task first gets relieved of their boredom with a task to distract them.
Three wizards reach the window at the same time, bird seed spilling through their fingers, but another wizard from farther back already shot off a spell to unlatch it, and so the three closest wizards still aren’t close enough as the bird flies in above their heads. Sometimes the seed alone isn’t enough to catch the bird’s attention, so other wizards produce shiny things to flash in its direction, while the rest simply start trying to grab it. This ordeal usually lasts about ten minutes, until the bird either chooses a desk at random to land on or flies to the only hand it has not bitten as wizards all around it grab at its feather. Now the lucky wizard can finally take a breath, run an appreciative hand down the silky feathers, and twist off the binding from the letter. They open it and read the carefully sketched ink lettering: “Just wanted to express my appreciation…”
All the wizards curse under their breaths, and point their eyes again towards the performative windows.
May the moon shine favorably and without hesitation upon you,
Alexan Drytus
