Once upon a time, would-be magicians believed that a mastery of obscure knowledge and arcane incantations could change reality.

We are their heirs. Unlike them, we don't have to dream or lie. We speak correctly, and earth and fire heed our call. Unliving metal stirs at our command. We summon daemons and bind them to obedience. We build constructs of pure thought-stuff, and conjure them into being through effort of will.

We are wizards and sourcerors, conjurers and magicians. We are what poets can only dream of.

We speak wrongly, and we become the sorcerer's apprentice :D

I love that little piece, I've got to save it somewhere!

"Sourceror's Apprentice" needs to be a job title for a junior engineer somewhere.

You should attend career day at local schools.

This is the part where I blush and attempt to hide in the corner.