The Well Of Lost Plots Part 44

Bradshaw emerged from behind a potted Triffid. He was carrying his trusty hunting rifle. Heep, coward that he was, dropped his pistol and started pleading for his life.

I walked through the swing doors and pulled out my mobile footnoterphone. Hospitality was deserted but I met Tweed at the entrance to the stage. I could see Libris talking and, beyond him, the audience hanging on his every word.

'Of course,' he went on, 'the new system will need new work procedures and all of you have had ample time to study our detailed seven-hundred-page prospectus; all jobs will be protected, the status of all Generics will be maintained. In a few minutes I will ask for a vote to carry the new system as required by the Council of Genres. But before I do, let us go over the main points again. Firstly, UltraWord will support the possibility of a "no frills" range of books with only forty-three different words, none of them longer than six letters. Designed for the hard-of-reading, these ...'

I leaned forward and spoke to Tweed as Libris carried on talking to the audience.

"Is that why you invited all the C- and D-cla.s.s Generics, Tweed?'

'What do you mean?'

'So you could force the vote? Your lies have greatest effect on those with little influence in the Well give them the power to change something and they'll meekly follow you. After Libris has finished I'll give a reb.u.t.tal. When I'm done you and Libris and UltraWord will be history.'

Tweed stared at me as Libris went on to his third point.

'UltraWord is too important to be loused up by you,' said Tweed with a sneer. 'I agree there might be certain downsides but overall the benefits far outweigh the drawbacks.'

'Benefits to who, Tweed? You and Kaine?'

'Of course. And you too if only you'd stop meddling.'

'What did Kaine buy you with?'

'He didn't buy me, Next. We merged merged. His contacts in the Outland and my position at Jurisfiction. A fictional person in the real world and a real person in fiction. A better partners.h.i.+p it would be hard to imagine!'

'When they hear what I have to say,' I replied calmly, 'they'll never never give you the vote.' give you the vote.'

Tweed smiled that supercilious smile of his and stepped aside.

'You want to have your say, Thursday? Go ahead. Make a fool of yourself. But remember this: anything you say we can refute. We can modify the rules, change the facts, deny the truth, with written proof written proof.

That's the beauty of UltraWord everything can be keyed in direct from Text Grand Central and, as you've so correctly gathered, everything there is controlled by Kaine, Libris and me. It's as easy to change the facts as it is to write a stub axle failure on the Bluebird or unlock a padlock, or spill mispeling vyrus. Merely keystrokes, Next. We have the Great Library within our control with the source text at our fingertips we can do anything. History will be good to us because we are the ones who shall write it!'

He laughed.

'You might as well try and canoe up a waterfall.'

He patted me patronisingly on the shoulder.

'But just in case you've got something up your sleeve,' he added, 'seven thousand highly trained Mrs Danvers are on call, ready to move in on my word. We can even write a rebellion if we want the Council won't be able to tell the difference between a real one and a written one. We will will have this vote, Thursday.' have this vote, Thursday.'

'Yes, you might,' I conceded. 'All I want is for the characters to have their say with all all the facts, not just yours.' the facts, not just yours.'

I looked at Libris on the stage.

'Point ten,' he went on as Heathcliff looked at his watch impatiently, 'all characters wherever they reside will be given four weeks' holiday a year in whichever book they choose.'

There was a roar of applause; he was offering everything they wanted to hear, buying the inhabitants of the BookWorld with hollow promises.

Tweed spoke into his mobile footnoterphone.

'Miss Next wants to have her say.'

I saw Libris touch his ear and turn round to stare at me contemptuously.

'But before the vote,' he added, 'before you say the word and we move upwards into broad sunlit pastures, I understand we have a Jurisfiction agent who wants to offer a counterpoint to my statement. This is her right. It is your your right to ask for proof if you wish and I most strongly request that you do so. Ladies and gentlemen, things Miss Thursday Next!' right to ask for proof if you wish and I most strongly request that you do so. Ladies and gentlemen, things Miss Thursday Next!'

I murmured into my mobile footnoterphone.

'Go, Mimi, go!' 25 Everyone in the Starlight Room reacted slightly to the distant explosion. Tweed steadied himself and spun round to glare at me.

'What was that?'

I patted him patronisingly on the shoulder.

'It's called levelling the playing field, Harris.'

33.

UltraWord ' Storycode Engine: Storycode Engine: The name given to the ImaginoTransference machines used by Text Grand Central to throughput the books in the Great Library to the readers in the Outland. The name given to the ImaginoTransference machines used by Text Grand Central to throughput the books in the Great Library to the readers in the Outland.

On a single machine floor at TGC there are five hundred of these cast-iron, s.h.i.+ny bra.s.s and polished mahogany colossi. A single engine can cope with up to a thousand simultaneous readings of the same book at up to six words per second per reader. With a hundred similar floors, TGC is able to handle fifty million different readings, although the lowest thirty floors are generally only used when a long-awaited best-seller is published. Using the UltraWord system, only twelve engines would be needed to handle up to one hundred million simultaneous readings at speeds of up to twenty words per second.'

XAVIER LIBRIS UltraWord the Ultimate Reading Experience UltraWord the Ultimate Reading Experience Hamlet and Jude Fawley exchanged glances and shrugged their shoulders as I walked up the steps and looked out at the crowd. Heathcliff, for whom all of this was merely delaying his moment of honour, glowered at me angrily. Oddly, I didn't feel at all nervous only a sort of numb elation. I would do some serious throwing up in the toilets later, but for now I was fine. Hamlet and Jude Fawley exchanged glances and shrugged their shoulders as I walked up the steps and looked out at the crowd. Heathcliff, for whom all of this was merely delaying his moment of honour, glowered at me angrily. Oddly, I didn't feel at all nervous only a sort of numb elation. I would do some serious throwing up in the toilets later, but for now I was fine.

'Good evening,' I said to the utterly silent audience. 'No one would deny that we need more plots, but there are one or two things about UltraWord that you should know.'

'Grand Central?!' said Tweed uselessly into his mobile footnoter-phone. 'Tweed to Text Grand Central, come in, please!'

I didn't have long. As soon as TGC knew what had happened they could write themselves another footnoterphone link.

'First, there are no new plots. In all the testing that has been done, not one has been described or hinted at.

Libris, would you care to outline a "new" plot now?'

'They won't be available until UltraWord is online,' he said, glaring at Tweed, who was still trying to contact Text Grand Central.

'Then they are untested. Second,' I went on, 'UltraWord carries a thrice-read-only feature. This means no more book lending. Libraries will close down overnight, second-hand bookshops will be a thing of the past. Words can educate and liberate but TGC want to make them a saleable commodity and nothing more.'

The crowd started to murmur to one another. Not one of those murmurs you usually get in the BookWorld, just a descriptive term, but a real real murmur seven million people all discussing what I had just said. murmur seven million people all discussing what I had just said.

'Orlick!' I heard Tweed shout. 'Get to TGC run if you have to and get the footnoterphone repaired!'

'This is preposterous!' yelled Libris, almost apoplectic with rage. 'Lies, d.a.m.nable lies!'

'Here,' I said, tossing Deane's copy of The Little Prince The Little Prince on to the table right at the front. The displacement field technology worked perfectly a single book landed on each of the hundred thousand tables. on to the table right at the front. The displacement field technology worked perfectly a single book landed on each of the hundred thousand tables.

'This is an UltraWord book,' I explained. 'Read the first page and pa.s.s it on. See how long it takes before you can't open it.'

'Tweed!?' yelled Libris, who was still next to me on the stage and becoming more agitated by the second.

'Do something!'

I pointed at Xavier.

'WordMaster Libris could refute my arguments with ease, simply by rewriting the facts. He could have unblocked the book already but for one thing all the lines are down to Text Grand Central. As soon as they are up again, each of these books will be unblocked. Perkins was murdered when he found out what they were up to. He told Snell and he was killed too. Miss Havisham didn't know but TGC suspected suspected that she did, so she had to be silenced.' that she did, so she had to be silenced.'

The Bellman had risen to his feet and was walking to the front of the stage.

'Is this true?' he asked, eyes blazing.

'No, Your Bells.h.i.+p,' replied Libris, 'on my honour. As soon as we get back online we will refute every single claim the misinformed Miss Next has made!'

The Bellman looked at me.

'Better get a move on, young lady. You have the crowd but for how long I have no idea.'

'Third, and more importantly, all books written using the UltraWord system can be fixed direct from Text Grand Central there will be no need for Jurisfiction. Everything we do can be achieved by low-skilled technicians at TGC.'

'Ah!' said Libris, interrupting. 'Now we get to your real real point fearful of your job, perhaps?' point fearful of your job, perhaps?'

'Not my job, Libris my real home is in the Outland. I would applaud a BookWorld in which we had no need of a policing agency but not one where we lose the Well of Lost Plots!'

There was a gasp from the crowd; seven million people all drawing breath at the same time.

'No need for plotsmiths, echolocators, imaginators, holesmiths, grammatacists and spellcheckers. No need for Generics to be trained because characters will be constructed with the minimum of description necessary to do the job. I'm talking about the wholesale destruction of everything that is intuitive in writing to be replaced by the formulaic. The Well would be dismantled and run instead by a few technicians at TGC who will get UltraWord to write books with no input from any of you.'

'Then what will happen to us?' said a voice from the front.

'Replaced,' I said simply, 'replaced by a string of nouns and verbs. No hopes, no dreams, no future. No more holidays because you won't need or want one you will all be reduced to nothing more than words on a page, lifeless as the ink and paper that you will become.'

There was silence.

'Proof!' cried Libris. 'All you have demonstrated so far is that you can spin a yarn as well as any plotsmith! Where is your proof?'

'Very well,' I said slowly. 'Mrs Bradshaw? The skylark, if you please.'

Mrs Bradshaw produced the small cage from beneath the table and handed it up to me.

'I have seen an UltraWord character with my own eyes and they are empty husks; if an old book is read in UltraWord it is very good but if it is written written in UltraWord it will be flat and trite, devoid of feeling, the SmileyBurger of the storytelling world. The Well may be wasteful and long winded, but every book read in the Outland was built there even the greats.' in UltraWord it will be flat and trite, devoid of feeling, the SmileyBurger of the storytelling world. The Well may be wasteful and long winded, but every book read in the Outland was built there even the greats.'

I took the skylark from the cage.

'This was the proof that Perkins died for.'

I placed the small songbird beneath the ImaginoTransference device and the skylark's description was transmitted to the audience.

Oh Lark so quick of wing, Dive down from up on high, Perch proud upon the post Melt darkness with thy cry.

Come make my spirits soar, Dance here and hover long, Tempt summer with your trill, Sweet stream of endless song.

The audience reacted favourably to the words and there was a smattering of applause, despite their nervousness.

'What's wrong with that?' insisted Libris. 'UltraWord takes language and uses it in ways more wonderful than you can imagine!'

The Bellman looked at me.

'Miss Next,' he demanded, 'explain yourself 'Well,' I said slowly, 'that wasn't wasn't an UltraWord skylark. I picked it up from the Library this morning.' an UltraWord skylark. I picked it up from the Library this morning.'

There was an expectant hush as Mrs Bradshaw produced a second second bird seemingly identical to the first and handed it up to me. bird seemingly identical to the first and handed it up to me.

'This is the UltraWord version. Shall we compare?'

'That's not necessary!' said Libris quickly. 'We get the point.' He turned to the Bellman. 'Sir, we need a few more weeks to sort out a few minor kinks-'

'Go ahead, Thursday,' said the Bellman. 'Let's see how UltraWord compares.'

I placed the bird in the ITRD and it transmitted the cold and clinical description to the audience.

With a short tail and large wings with pale trailing edges, a skylark is easily recognised inflight. There is a very distinctive streaking pattern to the brown plumage on the breast, inflight. There is a very distinctive streaking pattern to the brown plumage on the breast, and a black-and-white pattern beneath the tail. Nests in hollow on ground. Can sing a bit. and a black-and-white pattern beneath the tail. Nests in hollow on ground. Can sing a bit.

'I call a vote right now!' exclaimed the Bellman, climbing on to the stage. 26 I looked across at Tweed, who was tapping his mobile footnoterphone and smiling.

'What's the problem?' I asked. 27 'Eh?' asked the Bellman.

'The vote!' I urged. 'Hurry!'

'Of course,' he replied, knowing full well that Text Grand Central were not defeated until the vote had been taken. The Council of Genres wasn't involved but would be if TGC tried to go against a BookWorld referendum. That was something they could never never rewrite. rewrite.

'Good!' said Tweed into his mobile footnoterphone. 'Communications have been restored.'

He smiled at me and signalled to Libris, who calmed dramatically as only the supremely confident can do.

'Very well,' said Libris slowly. 'The Bellman has called for a vote and, as the rules state, I am allowed to answer any criticism laid before me.'

'A reb.u.t.tal of a reb.u.t.tal?' I cried. 'The rules don't state that!'

'But they do!' said Libris kindly. 'Perhaps you'd like to look at the BookWorld const.i.tution?'

He pulled the slim volume from his coat and I could smell the cantaloupes from where I stood. It would say whatever they wanted it to say. Libris walked over to us and said to the Bellman in a quiet voice: 'We can do this the easy way or the hard way. We make the rules, we can change the rules, we can modify the rules. We can do anything we want. You are due to step down. Go with me on this one and you can have an easy retirement. Go against me and I'll crush you.'

Libris turned to me.