If you were looking for the upstairs library's copy of that big guide to modes of inter-galactic travel, we're sorry. Yrael has it, and apparently won't be done with it for a while
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Pavel hasn't precisely been looking for that particular book, but finding someone else reading it at least tells him why it isn't in the library where he's assumed it was.
So the young man in a black undershirt and a pair of track pants looks curiously at the stretched-out not!cat, and taps the book lightly. "My apologies," a voice begins in heavily accented English, "But may I sit on ze couch as vell?"
"I am nearly as far from being a physicist as one can be, actually," Yrael says, smiling slightly. "But I am seeking to learn. I merely prefer to throw myself into a subject, rather than wade along its edges."
"Most sciences are new to me. I have made some study of biology in the past, but this is something of a challenge. Many of the statements held as law by this study don't exactly apply, where I am from."
At that Pavel's brow furrows. He can, actually, imagine a universe where the laws of sciences he holds so important and so pivotal, but it's still a strange concept. But for someone whose mind works so fast, it's a hurdle fairly easily jumped.
"They do not mix well with what replaces them, in the country I come from. Machines do not work, technology fails, machine-made items fall apart. In the neighboring country to the south, the machines and vehicles near the border may easily fail if the wind is from the north."
"The Charter often serves as a replacement, doing with magic what might elsewhere be done with science. It often bypasses the so-called laws of physics and the rules of biology."
"Magic. Zere is such a thing zere, vhere you liwe?" he asks; this is a slightly harder concept to accept. "Zere is not, in my vorld. Uniwerse, razer," he corrects himself.
"It holds all life together, in the Old Kingdom. Charter magic does. Free Magic is much less benevolent, corrupting and corroding ordered Charter magic."
So the young man in a black undershirt and a pair of track pants looks curiously at the stretched-out not!cat, and taps the book lightly. "My apologies," a voice begins in heavily accented English, "But may I sit on ze couch as vell?"
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"But I am very comfortable as I am," he replies, guilelessly. The not'cat is very straight-forward with his priorities.
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He's still wondering about that book, though. "You are a physicist?"
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"How do zey not? If I may ask."
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Antimatter?
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