In pursuit of real-world sorcery

Fantasy has always been my favorite genre. Across all media. Having magic or superpowers would certainly cure any apathy for life.

Why should knowledge be viewed differently? Mastery itself, having utter command over a domain, is intoxicating. But total control over subject matter, over any intellectual discourse, any sparring of ideas over coffee, of quips in passing, streaking and flashing across the socratic battlefield like a god of war descended—now that, sounds euphoric. The wordcel dreams.

In a similar vein, there exists an undeniable sense of tranquility that only the strong, the knowledgeable understand. In their pursuit toward mastery, once epistemic limits were long discovered, surpassed, and expanded.

And that experience births a quiet, inner confidence. Of skill, of sheer clock speed in attaining competence, in any domain, being generalizable. There's a line from There Is No Antimemetics Division that's always stuck with me: "You will be as good as you'll ever be on your first day."

A master need only want, and to the untrained eye, a wizard performs. Effort, then, is necessarily a textbook for sorcery. Which begs the question: why not?