The one an alchemical potion, capable of the miraculous transfiguration of the primordial clay that shuffles into the kitchen every morning into a thinking human being. The philosopher's stone in a ceramic mug. Eternal youth... at least while the buzz lasts.
And my omnipresent gargoyle, which sits on my belt like a constant reminder of the persistence of the modern wizardry that blesses and curses us, so entwined in our lives that we cannot conceive of a world before they attained rule of us. Cellular technology operates on the darkest of magical principles, teasing you with the ability to instantly obtain an illusion that you're connected to far away events, far away people who are beyond your aid, beyond your reach. Alexander Graham Bell's demon gone mobile... blessing and curse, a dreaded ring eagerly anticipated, and the news never good.
My two leashes, the threads that tie me to the rest of the world. One a blessing, the other a curse, and which is which I cannot tell you at any given time.
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