Musca prodigiosa For the record, I welcome the opportunity to testify during this hearing. I’m certain that once all the facts are known, my innocence will be crystal clear to everyone. My name is Arbutus Nettesheim. I am a thaumauturg, a purveyor of miracles. I specialize in minor miracles, although I have dabbled (and quite successfully I might add) in mid-range miraculous feats. Perhaps you recall that I created the eunectes murinus in Standahl’s The Terror of the Amazon? The shrieks and screams of the audience literally shook the roof of the theatre as my contrivance hissed and undulated its way across the stage. Grown men trembled in terror under its hypnotic gaze. Many critics opined that my serpent was the true star of the play. Had the play not ended so abruptly, I’m sure my miracle’s role would have continued to grow. Of course, the council eventually exonerated me of any liability for Standahl’s unfortunate demise. The labeling on the miracle clearly indicated that it required regular feeding, and that failure to do so could be hazardous, or, as in the case of Mr. Standahl, even fatal. You must understand that I do not blame Mr. Standahl. I, too, am a poor artist, living from hand to mouth. Lord knows I’d forget my head if it weren’t attached. But, we must also not rush to judge the eunectes. Lacking proper care, it simply reverted to its base programming. The woman? I recall her quite clearly. She entered my shop late one afternoon. As the setting sun highlighted her mane of golden hair, I immediately thought of a panthera leo. At the time, I had no idea she was royalty, but still, there was something regal about her. What struck me was her height, she was very tall. Really too tall for my tastes, I prefer… Excuse me? What did she want? She wanted what everyone wants who comes to my shop; a miracle. She said in a purring voice that she needed a miracle, but just a small one. You know, most people tend to over-estimate the size of their miracles; an arsonist will pray for a lightning bolt when a simple match would do the job. She requested a musca domestica. I said, M-U-S-C-A D-O-M-E-S-T-I-C-A. Order Diptera? Perhaps you’ve heard of the common housefly? No? Well, I’m not sure when the last one died. I think it was during the last Conflagration, but let me finish what I was saying. A friend of hers and a former client of mine, recommended me to her. Several years ago, I constructed a horde of schistocerca damnifica for a minor potentate in the Lantoon system. These flying insects have a voracious appetite and managed to consume an entire plague of pueraria montana conjured up by a less than reputable thaumauturg. I still remember the cheers of the grateful Lantoonians as the cloud of devouring schistocerca descended upon the invading ivy. The plant’s prodigious growth rate could not overcome the onslaught of my ravenous raiders. Thus, the diligent application of modern magic averted yet another environmental catastrophe in a most satisfyingly ecological manner. Due to the …
Dangerous? A musca domestica? I cannot imagine a more innocuous insect. It is a gentle and delicate creature that relies on its quick reflexes to survive. Diptera, as a rule, lack the cachet of the larger and more colorful lepidoptera, so I rarely keep them in stock. I explained to her that I would have to manufacture an exemplar, a prototype. It could take several weeks and unit costs could be very high. I offered her instead a vespula, very popular for those into self-defense. The sting of these miracles will stop an assailant dead in his tracks, and many of my clients swear that their vespulae literally saved their lives. Your wife has one, you say? Don’t you find it easy to maintain? It requires very little care, and it defends your home or person as if they were its own nest. If you are looking for another (they are social insects after all) I have several models to choose from. Oh, I’m sorry. Back to the woman… She insisted on a single musca domestica despite the high cost. She even brought along a spec sheet for the miracle. Since she was a foreigner, I forgave her this faux pas. She was unaware that all miracles must be constructed according to the strict guidelines laid out in Tintés Thaumauturgic Handbook of Modern Magic. The modifications that the sheet suggested were minor ones: a 33% reduction in reaction times and a minor change in the fuel processing system. Ask my friends, and they’ll tell you that my greatest fault is that I put the needs of my customer first. I agreed to the modifications and prayed that the guild wouldn’t find out. No, I had no idea why she wanted a musca. I mean, what harm could such a small insect cause? Perhaps she wanted a pet. Maybe a conversation piece. I tend not to inquire about the ultimate purpose of my miracles. Despite my success as a businessman, I operate on a tight margin. I had to begin construction immediately. To the novice, the manufacture of such a small miracle undoubtedly seems quite simple. But consider just for a moment the design of the wings. Transparent and dainty, yet resilient enough to withstand oscillations of over 1000 beats per minute. I struggled for a week perfecting the eye. I had hoped to cannibalize the eyes of a schistocerca, but found they are not in the least bit compatible. You probably don’t know this, but the eye of the musca consists of hundreds of tiny lenses. In many ways, I considered this miracle to be one of my greatest works of art: from the taste sensors on its six feet to its sponge-like tongue. Unfortunately, achieving the 33% reduction in reaction time proved to be impossible given the time constraints. The musca’s reflexes were already quite keen. My musca reacted to stimulus in less than 30 milliseconds, but still well above the desired 20. Through trial and error, I managed to compensate for this shortfall. I programmed the musca to anticipate danger. I admit I was not happy with this solution. Since a musca is less than 1 centimeter in length, one can only stuff so much processing power into its tiny brain. But, by using what I refer to as my musca mallet, I trained the creature to avoid
danger with a fairly high success rate. During the training phase, I discovered a neat maneuver that significantly improved the survival rate of my miracle. A musca at rest is at its most vulnerable. By flying backwards on take-off, my miracle significantly enhanced its survability. All in all, it took about six weeks to finish the project. As a bonus, I provided a small container for the miracle. I even programmed the musca to return to it on command. Many customers have found this feature to be invaluable in transporting their miracles. Oh, you’re right. I forgot to mention the other modification, which, I might add, I made only with the greatest reluctance. It amounted to more or less a degradation in the metabolization of fuel. I pointed out to her that it would lead to inefficiencies, and possible malfunctions. She insisted, however, on the change. As a result, the musca foraged almost constantly, since it leaked fuel from both ends. I toyed with the idea of traveling to the Lantoon system and delivering my miracle personally. But, of course, the quarantine made that impossible. Let’s see, I shipped the miracle on, I can’t remember the date exactly…Oh, you have the customs form. Ah, two months ago. I don’t understand your question. I did declare the musca. See, here I clearly wrote “small miracle”. I respectfully disagree. Miracle IS the correct designation for my creation. Just check Tintés. Besides, what else would you call such a wonderfully autonomous work of art? Bio-scans didn’t work, you say? Hardly surprising. The miracle is not biological, but rather a simulation of an extinct biological life form. It’s a copy, an artifact if you will. Oh, I see you have my container. Well, of course, I lined it with lead. Cosmic rays wreak havoc on the nano-cards. I admit that that probably interfered with the scanner, but… Infectious diseases I know nothing about. Well, next to nothing. I did dabble in diptheria for a short time, but nowadays there just isn’t any market for it. I vaguely remember one customer asking for the plague. I’m not sure about that, though. That many people! Dead! Infected by the musca? Amazing, what that small miracle accomplished! In hindsight, I see how the fuel processing could lead to an especially efficient system for distributing microbes. But, my God, how busy it must have been! Yes, that’s my musca. From the looks of him, he would have benefited from the quicker reflexes. If I only could have achieved the target reaction times…
Sir! Please don’t shout. My miracle didn’t create the disease, it only carried it. I sincerely regret the loss of life, but you can hardly hold me accountable. Lack of foresight is not a crime, after all. Thank you. May I take the musca with me? I believe I can salvage… Yes, sir. I understand… What about its eyes?
llllll Arbutus Nettesheim is a bombastic know it all. For those who are interested, here are the common names for the creatures mentioned above: musca prodigiosa – miracle fly (new species) eunectes murinus – anaconda schistocerca – locusts pueraria montana – kudzu panthera leo – lion vespula – hornet lepidoptera – butterfly.