# Chapter 1: The Day the Toaster Flew

Daniel Porter stared at his floating toaster.

He blinked once. Twice. The toaster remained suspended in mid-air, about three feet above his kitchen counter, spinning slowly like some kind of chrome UFO.

"What the hell?" he muttered.

He'd just been making breakfast—nothing special, just toast and coffee—when he'd turned around to get butter from the fridge. The loud clatter made him spin back, expecting to see his toaster had fallen to the floor. Instead, it had gone the opposite direction.

Upward.

Daniel took a cautious step forward. The toaster bobbed slightly, as if responding to his movement. He raised his hand slowly, and the toaster rose higher, almost touching his ceiling.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered.

He lowered his hand, and the toaster descended back to counter level. This wasn't possible. Things didn't just float. Especially not kitchen appliances.

"Am I having a stroke?" he asked himself, genuinely concerned. He remembered reading somewhere that hallucinations could be a sign of a serious medical condition.

But the toaster looked real enough. It was his old reliable Hamilton Beach model, slightly dented on one side from when he'd dropped it last year. The cord dangled beneath it, swaying gently.

Daniel concentrated again, picturing the toaster moving to the left. It slid sideways through the air as if pushed by invisible hands.

This was real. Somehow, impossibly, he was making his toaster fly with his mind.

"Holy shit," he said, excitement building in his chest. "Holy shit!"

He moved the toaster in a circle, then in a figure eight. The movements became smoother as he practiced. Within minutes, he had the toaster zipping around his kitchen like a demented drone.

Daniel laughed out loud. He was doing magic. Actual, real-life magic.

His toast popped up, startling him so badly he lost concentration. The toaster dropped like a stone, crashing onto the counter and sending both pieces of bread flying across the room.

"Crap," he said, but he was still grinning. A ruined breakfast seemed insignificant compared to what had just happened.

Daniel grabbed his phone from his pocket and opened the browser. His fingers trembled as he typed "moving things with mind" into the search bar.

The results loaded: "telekinesis," "psychokinesis," "supernatural powers," and a bunch of scientific articles debunking the whole concept. But none of that mattered anymore, because he had just done it.

He refined his search: "suddenly developed telekinesis." This time, the top result caught his eye: "New Mages Registry – Discovered Your Powers? Click Here."

Daniel snorted. That seemed a bit on the nose. But curiosity got the better of him, and he clicked the link.

The page loaded to reveal a professional-looking website with a sleek blue and silver design. "Welcome, New Mage!" the header proclaimed. Below it was a form requesting basic information and a description of what happened when the user discovered their abilities.

Daniel hesitated. This seemed too convenient, too perfect. Was this some kind of scam? A prank site? But then again, he'd just made a toaster fly. The normal rules didn't seem to apply anymore.

He filled out the form, describing his floating toaster incident in detail. When he clicked submit, he expected a page selling miracle supplements or psychic readings. Instead, a new message appeared:

"Thank you for registering. Your local orientation session will be held tomorrow at 9:00 AM at the Westfield Convention Center, Hall C. Attendance is mandatory for all new magic users. Please bring ID."

Below the message was a map showing the convention center's location, about twenty minutes from his apartment. The site also included a confirmation code he was supposed to bring.

Daniel stared at the screen. This couldn't be real. A mandatory orientation? For magic users? It sounded like the setup for a bad sci-fi movie.

And yet... the toaster.

He looked over at it, still lying on its side where it had crashed. Could he do it again? He concentrated, picturing the toaster rising. For a moment, nothing happened. Then it wobbled and lifted a few inches off the counter.

Daniel whooped in triumph. It wasn't a fluke!

He spent the next hour testing his new ability. He could lift small objects easily – his coffee mug, a book, his TV remote. Heavier items were harder. He managed to raise a dining chair about an inch off the floor, but it gave him a splitting headache.

By lunchtime, Daniel was convinced. This was real, and he was going to that orientation tomorrow if for no other reason than to figure out what the hell was happening to him.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. He called in sick to work, claiming a stomach bug. His boss didn't sound convinced, but Daniel couldn't care less. He had magic powers! Work seemed laughably insignificant now.

He tried searching for more information online, but most sites about magic were clearly fantasy or New Age nonsense. The New Mages Registry site answered no questions, offering only a countdown to his orientation time.

Daniel barely slept that night. His mind raced with possibilities. What would his life be like now? Would he become some kind of superhero? Join a secret society of wizards? The thought made him giddy.

By morning, he was exhausted but too wired to care. He showered, dressed in what he hoped was appropriate attire for a magic orientation (he settled on jeans and a button-down shirt), and headed out.

The Westfield Convention Center was a massive glass and steel structure on the edge of downtown. Daniel had been there once for a job fair, but today the place looked different. For one thing, the parking lot was packed. He had to park nearly half a mile away and walk.

As he approached, Daniel noticed something strange. The crowd entering the building looked... normal. No robes, no pointy hats, no people with unusual features or carrying wands. Just regular folks in regular clothes, looking slightly confused or excited.

Was he in the right place? Daniel checked his phone again. Westfield Convention Center, Hall C. This was it.

He joined the stream of people heading through the main entrance. Inside, signs directed "New Mages" to Hall C. Daniel followed them, his nervousness growing with each step.

The hallway opened into an enormous exhibition space. Daniel stopped dead in his tracks.

The hall was filled with people. Thousands of people. Every type of person imaginable – young, old, all ethnicities, all walks of life – milled about in the vast space. Some looked confused, others excited. Many were showing off small feats of magic: floating pens, miniature fireballs dancing above palms, small objects transforming into other objects.

A young woman near the entrance was checking people in. Daniel approached her, still dazed.

"Name?" she asked cheerfully.

"Daniel Porter."

She consulted her tablet. "Ah, yes. Telekinesis manifestation, correct?"

"Y-yes," Daniel stammered. "Yesterday morning."

"Great!" She handed him a badge with his name and "Telekinesis" printed below it. "Find a seat anywhere. The orientation will begin in twenty minutes."

Daniel took the badge and moved into the crowd. Long rows of folding chairs filled the hall, most already occupied. He found an empty seat near the middle and sat down, trying to process what he was seeing.

"First time?" asked the man next to him, a middle-aged guy with a salt-and-pepper beard. His badge read "Nathaniel Wong – Pyrokinesis."

"Yeah," Daniel replied. "I just discovered... this... yesterday. My toaster started floating."

Nathaniel chuckled. "Classic telekinesis awakening. Mine was the barbecue. Tried to light it, and whoosh – the whole thing went up like a flamethrower. Nearly burned down my deck."

Daniel blinked. "You don't seem very surprised by all this."

"My niece went through it two years ago. Got hydrokinesis – water control. So I had a bit of a heads-up, though I never expected to develop abilities myself." Nathaniel shrugged. "They say it's been happening more frequently over the last decade."

"What has?" Daniel asked.

"People developing magic. Used to be rare, apparently. Now..." He gestured at the crowded hall.

Daniel looked around again, trying to count. It was impossible. There had to be at least five thousand people in this hall alone.

"How many of us are there?" he asked.

Nathaniel shrugged. "They'll tell us in the orientation, I guess."

A tap on a microphone interrupted their conversation. The hall gradually quieted as people turned toward the stage at the front.

A woman in a crisp business suit stood at the podium. She had short gray hair and an air of calm authority. Her badge, projected on the screens behind her, read "Margaret Chen – Senior Administrator."

"Good morning," she said, her voice amplified throughout the hall. "Welcome to your new mage orientation. I know many of you have questions, and we'll address those as thoroughly as possible today."

She paused, surveying the crowd.

"First, let me assure you: you are not hallucinating, you are not ill, and you are not alone. What you have experienced is the awakening of magical ability, a natural phenomenon that has existed throughout human history but has only recently become widely acknowledged and regulated."

Daniel leaned forward, hanging on every word.

"Magic, at its core, is the ability to manipulate energy and matter through mental focus. The specific manifestation varies from person to person – telekinesis, pyrokinesis, hydrokinesis, transmutation, and dozens of other forms. What you can do now is likely just a fraction of your potential ability."

She clicked a button, and a slideshow began behind her showing people performing various magical feats – some minor, like Daniel's floating toaster, others impressive: a woman creating a miniature tornado in her hand, a man transforming a block of wood into glass, an elderly person appearing to heal a wounded animal.

"Magic has always existed in our world, but until recently, it manifested rarely and often went unrecognized or was dismissed as coincidence, trick, or delusion. Beginning approximately fifteen years ago, the rate of magical awakening began to increase exponentially. Scientists are still researching why, but the leading theory relates to subtle changes in the Earth's electromagnetic field."

Daniel glanced around the hall, seeing the same fascination on other faces that he felt himself.

"Today, you join a community that has been growing rapidly. This week alone, across the globe, approximately 15,000 people have experienced their first magical awakening. You are part of the newest wave."

Fifteen thousand new magic users in a week? Daniel tried to wrap his head around the number. If it had been happening for years...

"Many of you are wondering how this will change your lives," Margaret continued. "The answer is both significantly and not at all. You are still the same person you were before. You have the same job, the same responsibilities, the same relationships. Magic is now simply another aspect of who you are, like a new skill or talent."

She paused, letting that sink in.

"There are, however, legal considerations. Magic is regulated in most countries now, similar to how driving or operating heavy machinery is regulated. You'll need to be licensed, and there are restrictions on public use. We'll cover all of that today."

Daniel's mind was reeling. Licenses for magic? That made it sound so... ordinary.

"Finally, before we proceed with the details of registration and training, let me address what is perhaps the most commonly asked question by new mages: How special am I?"

The hall grew quieter. Margaret's expression softened slightly.

"I understand the excitement you're feeling. Discovering magic is life-changing. It feels extraordinary. And it is – for you personally. But it's important to understand the context."

She clicked to a new slide showing a world map with glowing dots spread across it.

"Each light on this map represents approximately 10,000 registered magic users. As of this morning, the global total stands at just over four million active practitioners, with various levels of ability and specialization."

Four million. The number hit Daniel like a physical blow. He wasn't special. He was one of millions.

"Congratulations on joining the ranks of magic users—all four million of us worldwide," Margaret said, her voice carrying through the stunned silence of the hall.

Daniel slumped in his chair, his previous excitement evaporating like morning dew. Around him, he saw the same reaction rippling through the crowd—shoulders sagging, excited smiles fading into looks of disappointment.

Four million. He wasn't a chosen one or a superhero. He was just... number 4,000,001.