“How would you introduce yourself to a reader, my dear?” the Mage asked his wife.
“Mmm, you mean someone has written about us?” said the Boffin.
“You know they have. Many people have over the years. They’ve called us by different names, it’s true.”
“Well, I’m a scientist, hence ‘the Boffin’, and my powers are the powers of Science. It’s obvious isn’t it?”
“What about me?”
“Your field is magic, hence ‘the Mage’ Your powers are based in Magic.”
“Yes. Always the obvious answer! Is that all?”
“What do you mean? I’m a scientist and you’re a magician. That’s true, isn’t it? But you aren’t so interested in theories as I am. You’re more interested in connections, relationships, the mind and consciousness, and that sort of stuff. We are both highly logical people, but I thought that you weren’t when we met. That was just plain prejudice, though, because we were on opposite sides in a war! I’m interested in analysis, you’re interested in synthesis. I’m interested in objects, you’re interested in feelings. I talk in terms of neurons, and you talk about motives and intentions. We have much the same interests, but we look at things differently. I’m generalising, of course.”
“What sort of stories should be written about us, dear?” she asked.
“’What sort of stories’? We go back a long time, so the older stories will seem strange to people these days, if they are told exactly how they happened. People trapped by spells in trees and so on. So stories from the earlier times might best be written like folk-tales or fairy stories. But the stories from more modern times can be written in a more modern style. It doesn’t make a lot of difference, though, so long as they tell the stories properly.”
“That’s true. But what about us personally? Our looks?”
“Well, you’re a tall, handsome man. You wear ordinary slacks and shirts most times these days, but sometimes you wear the full regalia, the long robes, and carry a rod or wand. You rarely wear a hat but sometimes have a hood. You have long sensitive fingers and have a full beard and tend to wear your hair longish. Your skin is light brown, a bit lighter than mine, and your eyes are deep, deep brown. And I love you dearly. What about me?”
“You are the glow of a sunrise, the tinkle of water in a stream, and the warmth of a fire in winter, and I love you dearly.”
She gave him a look, and he sighed.
“OK, OK! For the record! You are a beautiful brown skinned woman, quite slender, with long brown hair (usually!). You generally wear shirts and slacks like me. On rare occasions, you wear a dress and scrub up quite well!”
“Hey!” she interjected.
“Sometimes you wear a white coat and I’ve known you wear eye glasses for effect. You are marvellous with kids, especially babies, and at one time we were barely ever without one around. Ours or someone else's! In spite of your calling you are emotional and caring, and more than a little impetuous. However, if you are deep in the throes of an experiment or serious study, you can be extremely uncommunicative and distracted, to the point of being antisocial.”
She thought about objecting, but in the end she just nodded and sighed. He put his arm round her, and she leant against him. She curled her legs up on the sofa, and the two of them stayed there like that for some time.
