Magic Lessons

The boy scratched at his rough woollen robe and shifted restlessly in his chair. The old man struck him around the back of the head, "Concentrate, boy - I'm not speaking for my health you know."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir"

The old man grumbled, "Now boy, roll the die and concentrate."

The finely carved bone die tumbled across the table, finally resting on a three. "Damn!", the boy thumped his fist on to the table in anger sending the old man's goblet toppling to the floor. "I can't do it. It's not possible."

"Ah, and that is your problem, child. It is possible to roll a six - you have done so twelve times this morning already."

"As well as fifteen ones and thirteen twos. This is pointless - it's impossible I tell you."

The old man shook his head as he collected five of the bone cubes from the table.

"Is this impossible?", he asked as he scattered the dice across the wooden surface. One by one they stopped, each landing with six dots pointing at the ceiling. The boy shifted uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair, and looked down at the dice on the table.

"It is not impossible, boy, just unlikely. You can roll a six - I have seen it myself - you have seen it. You already believe you can - all you have to learn is to believe you will. Look at the numbers, boy."

The boy looked at the tally scrawled on to a scrap of parchment. "See, I've rolled less sixes than anything else!"

"Exactly", the old man smiled, "and your probability lessons have told you what?"

"That I will roll each number the same amount of times on average."

The old man's smile widened, "Exactly, my boy! So you are due a six - you are owed a six". The old man threw the boy one of the die, "So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to roll a six", the boy smiled as he allowed the die to roll out of his hand. The die tumbled over the rough wooden surface, bounced off a tankard and came to rest on six.

The old man scrawled another mark on the parchment, "Now boy, is that impossible?"

"It's different - I was owed that six."

"Poppycock! You believed you were going to roll a six. That is why you did."

"But.."

"Listen boy! If you roll a die six times, will you get each number once? No! Think about your probability lessons - what is the chance you will roll a six on one die?"

"That's easy, one in six."

"And if you pick up the die again and roll it again the die still has six sides. The probability is still one in six. No matter how many times you roll that die - it will always have six sides. One in six every time. So were you owed that six?"

The boy looked confused, "I suppose not."

"Then how did you roll it, boy?"

"I don't know - it just happened."

"It happened because you believed in it, boy. The only thing that was different is that you believed you would roll a six."

"I guess so."

"That is magic, my boy. If you believe hard enough you can bend reality."

The old man leant forward and picked up a handful of dice. Rolling one after the other, every time rolling a six.

"If I believe I can roll sixes all day long then I will. But what if I believe I can roll a seven?", the old man fingered the last die between his thumb and index finger before sending it spinning over the table. The die skipped across the uneven surface before stopping on a four.

"It is not possible, boy. Our belief is what gives us power, and also what limits it."

The boy stared at the die, not listening to what the old man said next about the limits reality has on belief. His eyes lit up in realisation as he flicked a die into the air, it missed the table on the way down and hit the stone floor with a crack.

"Damn it boy! Those things cost me a fortune!", the old man struggled out of his chair and bent over to pick up the die. He stopped, his jaw dropped and he looked back up at the boy in disbelief - the bone die had broken as it hit the floor - the two halves lying next to each other, one displaying two dots and the other five.

The boy then spoke the words that changed the face of magic forever, "I believe there are things that I do not yet believe in."