Michael Frearson has written a follow-up to his last installment...
The Boss is humming to herself. Quite audibly. Sometimes the humming gives way to words, which gradually dismantle themselves and become humming once more.
‘Dancing Queen, young and free and the tambourine…dancing queen, you can da daa da hmm hmm hmmmm.’
‘Oh god,’ says Linda, ‘is she delirious?’
‘Deliriouuuussss’ sings The Boss. ‘616.8’ she says.
‘I don’t know,’ says Mike. ‘Part of her is certainly still functioning. Maybe a cup of tea will sharpen her up.’
‘I think she might need something a bit stiffer than that,’ says Linda.
‘Stiffer’ says The Boss. She sighs. ‘Belle comma Monica’
‘Oh my god that’s the Black Lace she’s on about. We need to hurry, Mike; she’s definitely not well.’
The commotion in the staff area below suddenly gains substance on the penultimate staircase. Linda and Mike look at each other in horror.
‘Oh no,’ he says.
‘We must have run out of customer feedback slips,’ says Linda.
‘Or something worse,’ says The Boss, still smiling. ‘Something Much Worse.’
The trio hears the growl in unison as they descend the final staircase; it sounds a bit like a man. A man being strangled. They press on in trepidation.
The disheveled silhouette of John is gradually revealed with each downward step. He is holding aloft something large and yellow. Beyond him The Borrowers are swarming towards them like angry daytime TV chefs, but John barely seems to be aware of them.
The growl becomes a roar.
The lift chimes as the doors open.
Showing posts with label Linda. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Linda. Show all posts
62: A Smile To Give You Tumours
Linda and Mike are coming down the stairs. Slowly though, and with The Boss propped up between them. Linda isn't sure how to drag someone down a stair-case respectfully, but she holds onto an elbow and tries to be gentle.
The Boss is mainly unconscious, but every now and again she opens her eyes and mutters something about War, about the Shame of the Christmas Club Theft, about Scotch Eggs and Who's Who and Games and Puzzles. Sometimes she chants Dewey numbers to herself, but Linda is too focused on making sure they get down the stairs in one piece to pay much attention to her.
'Mike, can you hear something?'
'What?'
Mike rests against the wall. They are both panting slightly. The Boss goes limp in their arms and they prop her against the bannister. From the bottom of the stairwell, Linda can hear bumps, bangs, and shouts.
'I can't hear anything,' Mike says.
Linda blushes. She'd forgotten, but sometimes, when it's been a while since she's had a special drink (something medicinal, for her nerves) she tends to hear things. Not things. Just bumps. Shakes and scratches in the walls. That sort of thing.
'My mistake,' Linda says, and coughs, 'lets get to the staff room. The quicker we get a Gin... I mean, a cup of tea, the better I'll feel.'
Linda and Mike take The Boss's arms again, but suddenly she opens her eyes and smiles at them quite calmly.
'Are you feeling better?' Linda asks. She wants to say, 'Sir' but she bites her lip and stops herself just in time.
'Oh yes,' The Boss says.
Her smile is like cool blue water with the reflections of pine trees in it. It is melted glacier warmed by geothermal activity. It is water stuffed with unknown minerals: the kind that will make you cleverer, and live forever. Or the kind that will give you fast growing tumours. No-one knows.
'We'd better hurry up dear,' The Boss says, 'it looks like I made a mistake putting Rosalyn in the basement, doesn't it?'
The Boss is mainly unconscious, but every now and again she opens her eyes and mutters something about War, about the Shame of the Christmas Club Theft, about Scotch Eggs and Who's Who and Games and Puzzles. Sometimes she chants Dewey numbers to herself, but Linda is too focused on making sure they get down the stairs in one piece to pay much attention to her.
'Mike, can you hear something?'
'What?'
Mike rests against the wall. They are both panting slightly. The Boss goes limp in their arms and they prop her against the bannister. From the bottom of the stairwell, Linda can hear bumps, bangs, and shouts.
'I can't hear anything,' Mike says.
Linda blushes. She'd forgotten, but sometimes, when it's been a while since she's had a special drink (something medicinal, for her nerves) she tends to hear things. Not things. Just bumps. Shakes and scratches in the walls. That sort of thing.
'My mistake,' Linda says, and coughs, 'lets get to the staff room. The quicker we get a Gin... I mean, a cup of tea, the better I'll feel.'
Linda and Mike take The Boss's arms again, but suddenly she opens her eyes and smiles at them quite calmly.
'Are you feeling better?' Linda asks. She wants to say, 'Sir' but she bites her lip and stops herself just in time.
'Oh yes,' The Boss says.
Her smile is like cool blue water with the reflections of pine trees in it. It is melted glacier warmed by geothermal activity. It is water stuffed with unknown minerals: the kind that will make you cleverer, and live forever. Or the kind that will give you fast growing tumours. No-one knows.
'We'd better hurry up dear,' The Boss says, 'it looks like I made a mistake putting Rosalyn in the basement, doesn't it?'
52: Something Nasty In the Library
As Mike runs into the office something strange happens to The Boss.
She was starting to feel like she'd been dangling upside down for a long time. A really long time. She was starting to wonder if everyone in the library and the outside world (it's been years since she's even remembered there was such a disordered, noisy, bookless place) had forgotten about her.
And then the blood started to throb through her brain, beating like a drum, like a whole pit of percussionists, like a bin-bag of pots and pans being thrown down the stairs. Her gums and eyeballs started to throb. Her skirt, brushing against her chin, seemed to be throbbing too, although that wasn't possible.
These migraines are enough to make the library itself tremble, The Boss thought, and then the sentences in her head scattered and made themselves into a picture that looked like a heap of broken twigs and umbrella spokes, and was frightening.
The Boss closed her thrumming eyes and let her legs go limp just as Mike opened the stationery cupboard door.
She collapses into his arms, and he catches her, but she doesn't know anything about it.
'Linda,' Mike says, 'get the First Aid Box, The Boss has...'
Linda hesitates at the door. 'I'm not allowed to do First Aid on The Boss,' she says, 'it's a rank thing. It's about line-management structure, and council hierarchy. It's in the Staff Manual.'
Mike sinks to the carpet on his knees, half in and half out of the cupboard. He pulls The Boss' skirt over her legs and doesn't look.
'She's fainted!' he says, 'she needs some First Aid.'
'What she needs,' Linda says, 'is a cup of tea and some Fresh Air.'
Mike opens his mouth to argue, but The Boss twitches in his lap. She flutters her eyes open.
'There's something nasty in the library,' she slurs, 'Games and Puzzles.'
The Boss closes her eyes again. Mike taps her face gently. He doesn't quite dare a slap. How old is The Boss anyway? She could be twenty-nine, or eighty. There's something strange about her face, like the skin has been creased up and ironed out again hundreds of times, for hundreds and hundreds of years. He doesn't quite want to touch her, but she is a woman, and she is ill, and Mike is a Gentleman.
'What's she talking about?' Linda says, 'lets get her downstairs to the Staff Room.'
'Hide the Evidence!' The Boss screeches, eyes still closed. 'Dishonour! Shame! The tax-payer!'
Mike looks at Linda, and shrugs. 'Maybe a cup of tea would help,' he says, and shakes his head, 'we've all had a hard day.'
She was starting to feel like she'd been dangling upside down for a long time. A really long time. She was starting to wonder if everyone in the library and the outside world (it's been years since she's even remembered there was such a disordered, noisy, bookless place) had forgotten about her.
And then the blood started to throb through her brain, beating like a drum, like a whole pit of percussionists, like a bin-bag of pots and pans being thrown down the stairs. Her gums and eyeballs started to throb. Her skirt, brushing against her chin, seemed to be throbbing too, although that wasn't possible.
These migraines are enough to make the library itself tremble, The Boss thought, and then the sentences in her head scattered and made themselves into a picture that looked like a heap of broken twigs and umbrella spokes, and was frightening.
The Boss closed her thrumming eyes and let her legs go limp just as Mike opened the stationery cupboard door.
She collapses into his arms, and he catches her, but she doesn't know anything about it.
'Linda,' Mike says, 'get the First Aid Box, The Boss has...'
Linda hesitates at the door. 'I'm not allowed to do First Aid on The Boss,' she says, 'it's a rank thing. It's about line-management structure, and council hierarchy. It's in the Staff Manual.'
Mike sinks to the carpet on his knees, half in and half out of the cupboard. He pulls The Boss' skirt over her legs and doesn't look.
'She's fainted!' he says, 'she needs some First Aid.'
'What she needs,' Linda says, 'is a cup of tea and some Fresh Air.'
Mike opens his mouth to argue, but The Boss twitches in his lap. She flutters her eyes open.
'There's something nasty in the library,' she slurs, 'Games and Puzzles.'
The Boss closes her eyes again. Mike taps her face gently. He doesn't quite dare a slap. How old is The Boss anyway? She could be twenty-nine, or eighty. There's something strange about her face, like the skin has been creased up and ironed out again hundreds of times, for hundreds and hundreds of years. He doesn't quite want to touch her, but she is a woman, and she is ill, and Mike is a Gentleman.
'What's she talking about?' Linda says, 'lets get her downstairs to the Staff Room.'
'Hide the Evidence!' The Boss screeches, eyes still closed. 'Dishonour! Shame! The tax-payer!'
Mike looks at Linda, and shrugs. 'Maybe a cup of tea would help,' he says, and shakes his head, 'we've all had a hard day.'
48: A Genius, A Superhero, And A Dream Of Keyboard Shortcuts
The journey to The Office is taking a long time. Mike is sure Linda is stalling on purpose. She seems to need a Little Rest every seven steps. She is having another one now, and this time, Mike has decided to join her, rather than stand and waste his energy, or his Maglite battery.
In the darkness, he can hear the quiet sound of her breathing. She is far less annoying like this - quiet, and invisible. Mike pretends he’s in Call Of Duty 4, and Linda is a beautiful survivor he’s saved from some blast or attack. She comes from a place where technology is not freely available, so she thinks he is a genius, a wizard. No, not a wizard, he doesn’t want to go down that road. Mike tuts as he thinks of role-players, and of how the moronic general public lump anyone with one iota of IT knowledge into the same pigeon-hole. He can feel his knuckles tensing in the dark.
‘Okay, I’m ready for the next flight,’ says Linda.
‘Yes, M’am,’ drawls Mike as he gets to his feet. He is being ironic, but is not sure it will be taken that way. His experience of Linda in the past has always had him biting his fist in exasperation at her ability to take everything literally. But she doesn’t reply. Mike senses her proximity in the enclosed space. She is at his shoulder, she is following him. Mike can feel the gentle pressure of her against his hip. In the dark, he is free to imagine her out of her regulation dungarees. He thinks of all the things he will teach her; click-and-drag, the right-mouse button, and all those keyboard shortcuts. He is excited.
One step at a time, they advance upwards. He can smell something citrusy and potent. It is seeping out of Linda’s pores. He feels a little high. And then he hears the sobs.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Um...then why are you crying?’
‘I’m not .....(sniff)....crying.’
The air around Mike is empty again. Linda is much lower, now. She is sitting down. Mike joins her on the step, sitting close enough to feel her body flinch then resettle against him. She feels warm. Mike is aware of all the hairs on his arms standing up, prickling with static electricity. It’s been a while since Mike felt anything like this. It’s been exactly eleven months and three days to be precise. When it gets to a year, Mike tells himself, then I’ll be over her. Not a day before. But this, he thinks now, is sort of a practise run. It’s me getting used to how things can be for me again.
Linda is still sobbing. Mike wonders if he should put his arm around her. It’s usually what women want when they cry. We don’t want fixes, we just want to be listened to, and held. This mantra is carved into his hard-wiring now. His reply of ‘but it’s not logical’ always made the crying worse, so he has learned better of it. He lifts his arm and lets it hover a fraction of a centimetre above Linda’s shoulders. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he lowers it until he hits body, prompting a series of large breathless sobs which slowly peter out to nothing.
‘There there,’ he offers, a bit woodenly.
‘I thought I’d checked the batteries...’
‘Eh?’
‘The Emergency Lighting...it’s my responsibility to check it’s working. But it’s not working. It’s dark.’
‘Not with this it isn’t,’ Mike says, turning his Maglite on full beam. He shines it into Linda’s face, illuminating her red eyes and the mascara streaks on her red cheeks. Linda squints under the glare, clearly uncomfortable, so Mike turns it off again.
‘I don’t know what else I might’ve just Let Slide. There’s so much for me to do, maybe I can’t do it all. Maybe I’m not the Superhero I think I am?’
Mike has never, not once, thought of Linda as a superhero. He is about to laugh, but thinks better of it. Instead he pats her shoulder.
‘Things just go wrong sometimes,’ he finds himself saying. ‘And no-one’s to blame, it’s just the way things are. The Emergency Lights might’ve blown when everything else did - who knows what’s going on in this place today? So don’t be so hard on yourself. Okay?’
Mike gets to his feet and he feels Linda do the same.
‘Onwards and upwards?’ he asks.
‘Onwards and upwards.’
They race up the last flight of stairs and spill out into the corridor. Linda pushes back a memory of tribal drumming as Mike bangs hard on the door of The Office. Without waiting for an answer, he barges inside.
In the darkness, he can hear the quiet sound of her breathing. She is far less annoying like this - quiet, and invisible. Mike pretends he’s in Call Of Duty 4, and Linda is a beautiful survivor he’s saved from some blast or attack. She comes from a place where technology is not freely available, so she thinks he is a genius, a wizard. No, not a wizard, he doesn’t want to go down that road. Mike tuts as he thinks of role-players, and of how the moronic general public lump anyone with one iota of IT knowledge into the same pigeon-hole. He can feel his knuckles tensing in the dark.
‘Okay, I’m ready for the next flight,’ says Linda.
‘Yes, M’am,’ drawls Mike as he gets to his feet. He is being ironic, but is not sure it will be taken that way. His experience of Linda in the past has always had him biting his fist in exasperation at her ability to take everything literally. But she doesn’t reply. Mike senses her proximity in the enclosed space. She is at his shoulder, she is following him. Mike can feel the gentle pressure of her against his hip. In the dark, he is free to imagine her out of her regulation dungarees. He thinks of all the things he will teach her; click-and-drag, the right-mouse button, and all those keyboard shortcuts. He is excited.
One step at a time, they advance upwards. He can smell something citrusy and potent. It is seeping out of Linda’s pores. He feels a little high. And then he hears the sobs.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Um...then why are you crying?’
‘I’m not .....(sniff)....crying.’
The air around Mike is empty again. Linda is much lower, now. She is sitting down. Mike joins her on the step, sitting close enough to feel her body flinch then resettle against him. She feels warm. Mike is aware of all the hairs on his arms standing up, prickling with static electricity. It’s been a while since Mike felt anything like this. It’s been exactly eleven months and three days to be precise. When it gets to a year, Mike tells himself, then I’ll be over her. Not a day before. But this, he thinks now, is sort of a practise run. It’s me getting used to how things can be for me again.
Linda is still sobbing. Mike wonders if he should put his arm around her. It’s usually what women want when they cry. We don’t want fixes, we just want to be listened to, and held. This mantra is carved into his hard-wiring now. His reply of ‘but it’s not logical’ always made the crying worse, so he has learned better of it. He lifts his arm and lets it hover a fraction of a centimetre above Linda’s shoulders. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he lowers it until he hits body, prompting a series of large breathless sobs which slowly peter out to nothing.
‘There there,’ he offers, a bit woodenly.
‘I thought I’d checked the batteries...’
‘Eh?’
‘The Emergency Lighting...it’s my responsibility to check it’s working. But it’s not working. It’s dark.’
‘Not with this it isn’t,’ Mike says, turning his Maglite on full beam. He shines it into Linda’s face, illuminating her red eyes and the mascara streaks on her red cheeks. Linda squints under the glare, clearly uncomfortable, so Mike turns it off again.
‘I don’t know what else I might’ve just Let Slide. There’s so much for me to do, maybe I can’t do it all. Maybe I’m not the Superhero I think I am?’
Mike has never, not once, thought of Linda as a superhero. He is about to laugh, but thinks better of it. Instead he pats her shoulder.
‘Things just go wrong sometimes,’ he finds himself saying. ‘And no-one’s to blame, it’s just the way things are. The Emergency Lights might’ve blown when everything else did - who knows what’s going on in this place today? So don’t be so hard on yourself. Okay?’
Mike gets to his feet and he feels Linda do the same.
‘Onwards and upwards?’ he asks.
‘Onwards and upwards.’
They race up the last flight of stairs and spill out into the corridor. Linda pushes back a memory of tribal drumming as Mike bangs hard on the door of The Office. Without waiting for an answer, he barges inside.
41: Onwards And Upwards
The Emergency Lighting is not working in the stairwell. Linda is sure the little red ‘battery working’ lights were on when she did her weekly Health And Safety check. Although, now she comes to think of it, the memory of ticking the boxes is a blur. She can’t remember actually going into the stairwell. She hazily recalls sitting on the stairs while she had a drink. It was nice and quiet, and she knew she would never be disturbed on the stairs. She often eats her lunch there, if she’s not in the mood for Bob and his squat thrusts or Katerina and her pretty dresses. Sometimes, she thinks it’s just nice to be alone, to be away from all the responsibilities and expectations.
She feels like she is practically running the library most of the time. No one else seems to care about Fire Alarm tests or Inductions or Restricted Items. She is certain most of the staff have only skimmed through the Staff Manual. With the exception of John, that is. She knows John takes these things seriously. But a fat lot of good he is now!
Mike pulls a Maglite out of his pocket. It is as bright as a full moon on the dark stairs. He leads the way upwards and Linda follows closely behind. He doesn’t smell like Bob smells - stale sweat drizzled in Brut. Mike's scent is one of trees and moss. It is a scent Linda actually finds quite pleasing. She sticks close to him as he guides them up to The Office, still a little disturbed by the lack of Emergency Lighting.
After four flights of stairs, Linda starts to feel dizzy. She realises she hasn’t eaten since her Morning Break. She sits down. Mike, sensing the emptiness behind him, doubles back and shines the torch in her face.
‘I need to have a Little Rest,’ she sighs. She rummages in her dungarees for her bottle but still can’t find it. Mike is still shining the torch into her face. He is thinking that she looks too red, but then decides maybe it is just the light. Linda shields her eyes with her hand and Mike lowers the beam. Their feet are lit up now. They are inside a circle, like they have been caught in the spotlight.
Linda thinks about tap dancing. She looks at her shoes. They are not tap shoes. And the stairwell is the last place that dancing of any kind should take place. She wonders where the music has gone. She thinks that if the music was still there, she might just flout all the Health And Safety Regulations concerning dancing on the stairs. She thinks she might enjoy that a great deal. But there is no music, only the shallow breathing of her own tired lungs, and the shuffling of Mike and his moon-light torch.
‘Okay. I’m rested. Shall we Make Tracks?’
‘Yep, I reckon. Better to get it all sorted before it’s dark outside.’ Mike is concerned about them all being stuck in the library. He has plans, and they don’t include spending any more time than is necessary with these inept loons.
‘Onwards and Upwards then!’ says Linda, getting to her feet. She inhales a deep nose-full of dark forests. It seems to energise her.
‘Onwards and upwards.’
She feels like she is practically running the library most of the time. No one else seems to care about Fire Alarm tests or Inductions or Restricted Items. She is certain most of the staff have only skimmed through the Staff Manual. With the exception of John, that is. She knows John takes these things seriously. But a fat lot of good he is now!
Mike pulls a Maglite out of his pocket. It is as bright as a full moon on the dark stairs. He leads the way upwards and Linda follows closely behind. He doesn’t smell like Bob smells - stale sweat drizzled in Brut. Mike's scent is one of trees and moss. It is a scent Linda actually finds quite pleasing. She sticks close to him as he guides them up to The Office, still a little disturbed by the lack of Emergency Lighting.
After four flights of stairs, Linda starts to feel dizzy. She realises she hasn’t eaten since her Morning Break. She sits down. Mike, sensing the emptiness behind him, doubles back and shines the torch in her face.
‘I need to have a Little Rest,’ she sighs. She rummages in her dungarees for her bottle but still can’t find it. Mike is still shining the torch into her face. He is thinking that she looks too red, but then decides maybe it is just the light. Linda shields her eyes with her hand and Mike lowers the beam. Their feet are lit up now. They are inside a circle, like they have been caught in the spotlight.
Linda thinks about tap dancing. She looks at her shoes. They are not tap shoes. And the stairwell is the last place that dancing of any kind should take place. She wonders where the music has gone. She thinks that if the music was still there, she might just flout all the Health And Safety Regulations concerning dancing on the stairs. She thinks she might enjoy that a great deal. But there is no music, only the shallow breathing of her own tired lungs, and the shuffling of Mike and his moon-light torch.
‘Okay. I’m rested. Shall we Make Tracks?’
‘Yep, I reckon. Better to get it all sorted before it’s dark outside.’ Mike is concerned about them all being stuck in the library. He has plans, and they don’t include spending any more time than is necessary with these inept loons.
‘Onwards and Upwards then!’ says Linda, getting to her feet. She inhales a deep nose-full of dark forests. It seems to energise her.
‘Onwards and upwards.’
38: A Rescue Rope made of Nylon Stockings
Voting is still open for the Kill Someone In Chapter 40 Competition.
'John's not right.' Katerina says, 'look at him.'
Linda looks. John is still on the floor. His muscles are twitching. He can't seem to decide if he wants to keep his eyes open or closed.
'Is it that the electric shock he had, do you think?'
Bob finally rights himself and stands up. He stretches, as if he didn't fall on the floor, but was doing some special back exercise on the carpet.
'Nah,' he says. He raises a hand to clap John on the shoulder, and thinks better of it. He puts his hands in his pockets. 'He's just upset, aren't you John?'
John doesn't answer.
'I think Garry's gone downstairs,' Linda says. 'He isn't in the library. Not unless he's behind a rubber plant.'
'He won't have gone downstairs, will he? No.' Katerina says. She bites her lip and looks at Linda, 'you were the one who volunteered to do his induction.'
'I didn't volunteer,' Linda said, 'I was asked,' she raises an eyebrow and gestures at the ceiling.
'So you should have covered Forbidden and Restricted Areas!' Katerina shouts.
Bob is watching. Bob is hoping the girls are going to get into a cat-fight. He winks at Mike, and John moans slightly.
'Listen,' Mike says, 'he might not be down... there. You never know. He could have gone upstairs. We should split up. Bob's the man for figuring out how to get into the basement without a lift, aren't you Bob?'
Bob feels himself being led, being 'handled', but is too excited about the prospect of swinging down a lift-shaft on a rope made from Katerina's stockings to complain about it. He touches the brim of an imaginary hat. 'I'm onto it,' he says.
'And Linda, you can lead a second party upstairs. Maybe we'll find him there. He's new. He might have wanted to talk to The Boss.' Mike whispers the last two words.
The librarians form themselves into teams. Katerina takes off her cardigan and places it over John's knees. She pushes him backwards slightly so he is leaning against the wall. Then she joins Bob and goes through the main library and the back room where she works (that horse book seems like months ago, rather than just this morning) to examine the lift.
Linda and Mike walk slowly, with trepidation, caution and reluctance, towards the stairs that lead up to the next floor. Mike has realised that while there is no power, there is no revolving door out either. He isn't sure if Linda knows this. He decides not to tell her.
'Let's go and see if he's there,' Mike says. They leave John sitting on the floor. In the main library, someone is ringing a bell, but they ignore it.
'John's not right.' Katerina says, 'look at him.'
Linda looks. John is still on the floor. His muscles are twitching. He can't seem to decide if he wants to keep his eyes open or closed.
'Is it that the electric shock he had, do you think?'
Bob finally rights himself and stands up. He stretches, as if he didn't fall on the floor, but was doing some special back exercise on the carpet.
'Nah,' he says. He raises a hand to clap John on the shoulder, and thinks better of it. He puts his hands in his pockets. 'He's just upset, aren't you John?'
John doesn't answer.
'I think Garry's gone downstairs,' Linda says. 'He isn't in the library. Not unless he's behind a rubber plant.'
'He won't have gone downstairs, will he? No.' Katerina says. She bites her lip and looks at Linda, 'you were the one who volunteered to do his induction.'
'I didn't volunteer,' Linda said, 'I was asked,' she raises an eyebrow and gestures at the ceiling.
'So you should have covered Forbidden and Restricted Areas!' Katerina shouts.
Bob is watching. Bob is hoping the girls are going to get into a cat-fight. He winks at Mike, and John moans slightly.
'Listen,' Mike says, 'he might not be down... there. You never know. He could have gone upstairs. We should split up. Bob's the man for figuring out how to get into the basement without a lift, aren't you Bob?'
Bob feels himself being led, being 'handled', but is too excited about the prospect of swinging down a lift-shaft on a rope made from Katerina's stockings to complain about it. He touches the brim of an imaginary hat. 'I'm onto it,' he says.
'And Linda, you can lead a second party upstairs. Maybe we'll find him there. He's new. He might have wanted to talk to The Boss.' Mike whispers the last two words.
The librarians form themselves into teams. Katerina takes off her cardigan and places it over John's knees. She pushes him backwards slightly so he is leaning against the wall. Then she joins Bob and goes through the main library and the back room where she works (that horse book seems like months ago, rather than just this morning) to examine the lift.
Linda and Mike walk slowly, with trepidation, caution and reluctance, towards the stairs that lead up to the next floor. Mike has realised that while there is no power, there is no revolving door out either. He isn't sure if Linda knows this. He decides not to tell her.
'Let's go and see if he's there,' Mike says. They leave John sitting on the floor. In the main library, someone is ringing a bell, but they ignore it.
36: A Charred Man, but a Man all the Same
Katerina watches as Bob lies on his back. He is trying to get up, but at the moment, he is looking more like a turtle that has been rolled over onto its shell. Ugh. So undignified.
Katerina glances at John. John is clawing at the side of his face, and whimpering. She feels a stab of pity. She never knew John was so strong, so brave. She doesn't know exactly what sent him doo-lally this time, but she knows a man who is willing to fight for something he believes in is a rare thing.
Mike sits up, bumps his head on the underside of the desk and removes the last key from between his teeth.
'It's a power cut,' he says, 'an overload. I can fix it. Don't worry.'
'Are you all right?' Linda asks, ' I think I'm going to need to get the First Aid Box. Shut that door, Katerina. We don't want Complaining Borrower to see this. He'd have a field day.'
Katerina shuts the door.
'Wait,' she says, her hand still on the handle, 'listen. The music has stopped.'
Linda looks at her. Out of habit, she reaches for her special green bottle, but it isn't there.
'Where's Garry?' she says, trembling.
Katerina glances at John. John is clawing at the side of his face, and whimpering. She feels a stab of pity. She never knew John was so strong, so brave. She doesn't know exactly what sent him doo-lally this time, but she knows a man who is willing to fight for something he believes in is a rare thing.
Mike sits up, bumps his head on the underside of the desk and removes the last key from between his teeth.
'It's a power cut,' he says, 'an overload. I can fix it. Don't worry.'
'Are you all right?' Linda asks, ' I think I'm going to need to get the First Aid Box. Shut that door, Katerina. We don't want Complaining Borrower to see this. He'd have a field day.'
Katerina shuts the door.
'Wait,' she says, her hand still on the handle, 'listen. The music has stopped.'
Linda looks at her. Out of habit, she reaches for her special green bottle, but it isn't there.
'Where's Garry?' she says, trembling.
31: Angry Library Music
Katerina is disappointed in Bob. She notices how Bob takes The Complaining Borrower to one side and starts pointing out special features in the barricade. The way the books intersect at the corners. The way the pink covers of the romance novels and the brown and white covers of the westerns intersect in pleasing ways, like tiles on a roof. Someone has bolstered the very top of the barricade with a double row of hard-back, large-print Crime novels.
Bob, she realises, is claiming all this work as his own. Bob is totally ignoring her. Bob thinks he is standing in his own back garden, pointing out the special features of his new garden shed to his next-door neighbour. Bob is showing someone the insides of his car. The 'Kit-Kat' period was short and sweet and now, she realises, it is over.
What went wrong?
Katerina is wondering why Bob thinks they need a barricade. She is wondering why they would want to stop people from coming into the library. She is wondering if Bob is expecting an Attack of some kind. She is thinking about all this while Linda is trying to get Bob's attention. Bob is ignoring her too. Linda is complaining about Manning the Defences. She is quoting the Equality and Diversity Policy. She is telling Bob that it really should be 'Personning The Defences.'
Then the music changes. It moves from strings to percussion. It sounds like a bin-bag full of saucepans being thrown down a flight of concrete steps. It is hard to talk on top of the music. Bob turns quickly. She can read his lips.
'Pigging Hell!' he is saying, 'Get under the pigging counter!'
Complaining Borrower grabs Katerina's arm. Bob grabs Linda's arm. They run across the library and crouch under the counter. It smells of printer toner and newspaper under there. The carpet is much cleaner there than anywhere else in the library.
The music is booming. Parts of it are like the sound that the tins tied to the back of a 'Just Married' car make as they bump and spark along the tarmac when the car drives away. Off to a hotel for a Honeymoon.
Honeymoon. Katerina frowns. Why doesn't anyone want to go on a Honeymoon with her? Why do Men never text her back? Why are there never any second dates? Why does it stop with a slap on the bum in the middle of barricade building? Emergencies are supposed to bring people closer together. This could have been her chance. The music is reminding Katerina of all her rejections, all her lost opportunities and disappointments. These men do nothing but stamp all over her dreams.
'Where's John?' Katerina asks. She looks at Linda, but Linda is looking in the pockets of her dungarees for her green bottle.
'Bob?' Bob is making gun shapes with his fingers and covering himself as he peeps over the counter.
The music is so loud now that the books start to fall off the shelves. The barricade is holding, for now.
Bob, she realises, is claiming all this work as his own. Bob is totally ignoring her. Bob thinks he is standing in his own back garden, pointing out the special features of his new garden shed to his next-door neighbour. Bob is showing someone the insides of his car. The 'Kit-Kat' period was short and sweet and now, she realises, it is over.
What went wrong?
Katerina is wondering why Bob thinks they need a barricade. She is wondering why they would want to stop people from coming into the library. She is wondering if Bob is expecting an Attack of some kind. She is thinking about all this while Linda is trying to get Bob's attention. Bob is ignoring her too. Linda is complaining about Manning the Defences. She is quoting the Equality and Diversity Policy. She is telling Bob that it really should be 'Personning The Defences.'
Then the music changes. It moves from strings to percussion. It sounds like a bin-bag full of saucepans being thrown down a flight of concrete steps. It is hard to talk on top of the music. Bob turns quickly. She can read his lips.
'Pigging Hell!' he is saying, 'Get under the pigging counter!'
Complaining Borrower grabs Katerina's arm. Bob grabs Linda's arm. They run across the library and crouch under the counter. It smells of printer toner and newspaper under there. The carpet is much cleaner there than anywhere else in the library.
The music is booming. Parts of it are like the sound that the tins tied to the back of a 'Just Married' car make as they bump and spark along the tarmac when the car drives away. Off to a hotel for a Honeymoon.
Honeymoon. Katerina frowns. Why doesn't anyone want to go on a Honeymoon with her? Why do Men never text her back? Why are there never any second dates? Why does it stop with a slap on the bum in the middle of barricade building? Emergencies are supposed to bring people closer together. This could have been her chance. The music is reminding Katerina of all her rejections, all her lost opportunities and disappointments. These men do nothing but stamp all over her dreams.
'Where's John?' Katerina asks. She looks at Linda, but Linda is looking in the pockets of her dungarees for her green bottle.
'Bob?' Bob is making gun shapes with his fingers and covering himself as he peeps over the counter.
The music is so loud now that the books start to fall off the shelves. The barricade is holding, for now.
List Of Chapters
1: 146 Books About Hearts
2: Face Fascists
3: Barcodes
4: Restricted Items
5: Night Eyes
6: Induction
7: 500 Squat Thrusts A Day
8: Green Hair Ribbon
9: 'Existential Crisis'
10: Dirty Shit
11: The Enquiry
12: 78 Rubber Plant Leaves
13: No 'Gun' At All
14: Bob's Peak Peaks
15: This Is More Than Stab-proof Underwear And Glory
16: Now We Have The Internet Librarians Are Going Extinct
17: A Hankering For Pernod
18: The Boy With A Glockenspiel Spine
19: A Message From The Boss
20: The Music Of Lemons
"Commercial Break"
21: Lunch Break
22: Staff Manual
23: The Squid And The Quail
24: Risk Assessment (Google)
25: The Dewey Chakra
26: The Power Of The Pink Wall
27: Working Towards The Same Goal
28: I Used To Work In An Office But I'm All Right Now
29: Forbidden Areas
30: Basement Rapunzel Vibrates Lemon. Angry Penguin Watches On Disgruntled Skateboard. Red Gloves Receive Tune Of Rage
31: Angry Library Music
32: Treason
33: A Number all of His Own
34: Meanwhile, Down in the Basement
35: Sweetcheeks
36: A Charred Man, But a Man all The Same
37: When the Music's Over, Turn Out The Lights
38: A Rescue Rope Made Of Nylon Stockings
39: A Head In The Clouds
40: Adjacent To Miss World
41: Onwards And Upwards
42: Rosalyn Versus The Stranger
43: Big Ball Of String
44: Dead Zone
45: Not Green But Puce: A Story of The Incredible Hulk and the Zombie Borrowers
46: Today Is Not A Good Day To Die
Audience Participation
47: An Orphaned Ice Skater
48: A Genius, A Superhero, And A Dream Of Keyboard Shortcuts
49: That'll Pigging Do Bob
50: It's Me, Katerina
51: A Cup Of Tea Solves Everything
52: Something Nasty In The Library
53: An Army Of Borrowers
54: Dealing With Borrowers
55: The One True Grail
56: Paper Roses, Only Imitation, Just Like Your Imitation Love, For Me
57: A Barrel Sailing Over A Waterfall
58: Relationships Between Staff
59: Hive Mind Hatches A Plan
60: Three Scotch Eggs, Inalienable Rights and A Great Wrong
61: Breaking Out The Big Guns
62: A Smile To Give You Tumours
63: This Isn't War, It's Love
64: The Thin Grey Line
65: Search And Rescue
66: The Lingering Smell Of Sellotape
2: Face Fascists
3: Barcodes
4: Restricted Items
5: Night Eyes
6: Induction
7: 500 Squat Thrusts A Day
8: Green Hair Ribbon
9: 'Existential Crisis'
10: Dirty Shit
11: The Enquiry
12: 78 Rubber Plant Leaves
13: No 'Gun' At All
14: Bob's Peak Peaks
15: This Is More Than Stab-proof Underwear And Glory
16: Now We Have The Internet Librarians Are Going Extinct
17: A Hankering For Pernod
18: The Boy With A Glockenspiel Spine
19: A Message From The Boss
20: The Music Of Lemons
"Commercial Break"
21: Lunch Break
22: Staff Manual
23: The Squid And The Quail
24: Risk Assessment (Google)
25: The Dewey Chakra
26: The Power Of The Pink Wall
27: Working Towards The Same Goal
28: I Used To Work In An Office But I'm All Right Now
29: Forbidden Areas
30: Basement Rapunzel Vibrates Lemon. Angry Penguin Watches On Disgruntled Skateboard. Red Gloves Receive Tune Of Rage
31: Angry Library Music
32: Treason
33: A Number all of His Own
34: Meanwhile, Down in the Basement
35: Sweetcheeks
36: A Charred Man, But a Man all The Same
37: When the Music's Over, Turn Out The Lights
38: A Rescue Rope Made Of Nylon Stockings
39: A Head In The Clouds
40: Adjacent To Miss World
41: Onwards And Upwards
42: Rosalyn Versus The Stranger
43: Big Ball Of String
44: Dead Zone
45: Not Green But Puce: A Story of The Incredible Hulk and the Zombie Borrowers
46: Today Is Not A Good Day To Die
Audience Participation
47: An Orphaned Ice Skater
48: A Genius, A Superhero, And A Dream Of Keyboard Shortcuts
49: That'll Pigging Do Bob
50: It's Me, Katerina
51: A Cup Of Tea Solves Everything
52: Something Nasty In The Library
53: An Army Of Borrowers
54: Dealing With Borrowers
55: The One True Grail
56: Paper Roses, Only Imitation, Just Like Your Imitation Love, For Me
57: A Barrel Sailing Over A Waterfall
58: Relationships Between Staff
59: Hive Mind Hatches A Plan
60: Three Scotch Eggs, Inalienable Rights and A Great Wrong
61: Breaking Out The Big Guns
62: A Smile To Give You Tumours
63: This Isn't War, It's Love
64: The Thin Grey Line
65: Search And Rescue
66: The Lingering Smell Of Sellotape
27: Working Towards The Same Goal
Bob knows he must Keep His Cool if any of them are going to survive this. He catches Linda on her way past and helps himself to the gin she’s carrying, taking a big swig before handing it back with a wink. He breathes out through his nose. He is In Control again.
Where are my men?! he shouts. Where is my pigging team?
Linda and Katerina turn to face him. John and Garry are still AWOL. The girls will have to do.
The borrower who writes all the letters of complaint ambles over to join them. For once he is not complaining. The music seems to have subdued him. He offers himself as a willing helper. Bob gives him the once-over, and, satisfied that he is (a) male and (b) has decent biceps, he slaps him on the back and puts him to work with Linda and Katerina on Manning The Defences.
Linda is still thinking about the instructions from The Boss. She can’t quite figure out who’s meant to escape, but she carries on stacking the books on the chairs anyway. She is certain that it isn’t any of them, otherwise, surely they would have just Exited The Library In An Orderly Fashion when the noise started. She hopes she hasn’t got it wrong. As the Health And Safety Warden, it would have been her job to make sure that happened. But then Bob took charge. She couldn’t stop him. And her job is to Keep Everyone Safe, and that seems to be what Bob is trying to do. She takes a gulp of the gin and picks up some more books, satisfied that they are all Working Towards The Same Goal.
Bob stops to take stock of the situation. The barricade is more than adequate, he thinks. No one is getting in or out. Not on my watch. The noise doesn’t show any signs of abating, but this doesn’t trouble Bob. He is at his peak, after all. This couldn’t have come at a better time. He puffs out his chest and listens to the music, he listens hard. He is invincible, he thinks, he is God.
Where are my men?! he shouts. Where is my pigging team?
Linda and Katerina turn to face him. John and Garry are still AWOL. The girls will have to do.
The borrower who writes all the letters of complaint ambles over to join them. For once he is not complaining. The music seems to have subdued him. He offers himself as a willing helper. Bob gives him the once-over, and, satisfied that he is (a) male and (b) has decent biceps, he slaps him on the back and puts him to work with Linda and Katerina on Manning The Defences.
Linda is still thinking about the instructions from The Boss. She can’t quite figure out who’s meant to escape, but she carries on stacking the books on the chairs anyway. She is certain that it isn’t any of them, otherwise, surely they would have just Exited The Library In An Orderly Fashion when the noise started. She hopes she hasn’t got it wrong. As the Health And Safety Warden, it would have been her job to make sure that happened. But then Bob took charge. She couldn’t stop him. And her job is to Keep Everyone Safe, and that seems to be what Bob is trying to do. She takes a gulp of the gin and picks up some more books, satisfied that they are all Working Towards The Same Goal.
Bob stops to take stock of the situation. The barricade is more than adequate, he thinks. No one is getting in or out. Not on my watch. The noise doesn’t show any signs of abating, but this doesn’t trouble Bob. He is at his peak, after all. This couldn’t have come at a better time. He puffs out his chest and listens to the music, he listens hard. He is invincible, he thinks, he is God.
21: Lunch Break
Garry is still working hard on the barricade when Linda approaches him. He notices she has his cling film in the front pocket of his dungarees, but he doesn't ask her for it. He smiles. Cling-film has never been further from his mind. He looks at his hands and they are smeared with dust and ink and his heart is beating fast and there is sweat on the back of his neck and he does not mind at all.
Garry knows his antibacterial hand gel is still in his bag, but he isn't tempted to go and get it. His immune system is pumping. He can feel healthy bacteria and white blood cells multiplying in his arteries. His blood is pure vitamin C. His feelings are only about 2% anxiety, which is a personal best. A few minutes ago, Bob clapped him on the back so hard he nearly fell over, and when Garry looked at him, wondering what was going to come next, Bob just made a fist and held it out to him.
'Good man,' he'd said, 'glad to have you on my team.'
Garry had slowly lifted his own fist and knocked it against Bob's, who had nodded. The words 'Good Man' and 'Team' glowed into all the dark places inside Garry and lit them up like a buzzing fluorescent sign.
He wiped his forehead on his sleeve and turned back to the barricade. He didn't wonder what it was all for. The music was a kind of rhythm that kept him working and filled him with special manly strength. He heard John scream, but only vaguely, and it didn't seem the kind of noise (a distinctly un-manly sound, Garry thought, thinking in the new Style of Bob) that he needed to worry about or pay any attention to. When Linda motioned for him to come away from the barricade and follow her into the children's part of the library, he left his post only reluctantly.
'You didn't finish your induction,' Linda says. She taps the roll of cling film against her arm, as if it was a baton or a baseball bat. Her hair has fallen out of its ribbon and is sticking to her damp cheeks. 'I take My Position as New Staff Mentor very seriously,' she explains quietly, 'even in The Present Circumstances. For example,' she says, 'I notice you've not had a break. You are legally entitled to a Lunch Break.'
Garry is about to tell Linda that he doesn't need a break, that the building itself is going to be food and water to him from now on, for the rest of his life, but Linda pushes him backwards and he falls into a soft bean-bag. The bean-bag is covered in a pattern of caterpillars reading books, and Garry has time to wonder if they are actually book worms, which would make sense, before Linda thrusts a large black hardback volume at him. It looks like a Bible.
'The Boss did most of this herself, although I have made a few additions when Circumstances Have Called for Them,' Linda says proudly. 'You need to have a lunch break, and you need to read this.'
Linda turns away, but she doesn't go far. She walks to a soft chair that looks like a throne, and starts pulling up the cushions and patting at the upholstery with the palms of her hands. After a few minutes, she pulls out a green bottle from under the seat, and ambles away. Garry takes his lunch out of his back-pack and opens the book.
19: A Message From the Boss
Linda is coming down in the lift. She is leaning her head against the doors of the lift. They are cool. They are helping her to think. She's just seen The Boss, 'in person' for the second time in her life. The first time Linda saw the boss, she started bringing alcohol into work. Now there's been a second time, she think she might need to stop.
The doors open and she walks out into the library. Her legs are shaking so much that the carpet doesn't feel like carpet at all, but the surface of a large sponge cake.
Bob is using sellotape like rope, and is tying the legs of the plastic chairs together. He's arranging the chairs in a long line in front of the doors. Katerina is lifting piles of westerns and Mills and Boons from the shelves and stacking them on the chairs. They are making, Linda realises, Some Kind Of Barricade.
Linda needs John. John is leaning against one of the windows. He is breathing on the window and drawing hearts and arrows into the condensation. Every time Bob shouts a command or an instruction, John flinches. He is humming, and he looks happy. Linda wants to crash through the sellotape-chairs-paperbacks barrier and escape into the world outside. She wants to breathe in the traffic-and-chips scented air outside the library. She wants to know she will never, ever have to burp alka-seltzer when she is singing 'Head Shoulders Knees and Toes' ever again.
'John,' - Linda says. John turns and looks at her. He smiles, and Linda thinks, for one second, he is going to hug her.
'John,' she says again, because he is turning back to the window. 'I need your help. I've had a message from the boss.'
John pulls himself upright, looks over his shoulder at Bob, Garry and Katerina, who are still building the barricade, and coughs.
'You went up there?' Linda nods. 'Do you need a chair? Shall I get you some ice?'
'I've got a message,' she says again, 'could be some instructions.'
'Okay,' he says. 'What is it?'
'793.809,' says Linda.
She is reading the numbers from the back of her hand. Some of them are smudged, but her hands were trembling when she wrote them down. She can't be blamed. No-one else was going to go up there for instructions, were they? John closes his eyes. Linda wonders what he is doing. She wonders if his mind is full of Browne cards and filing cabinets. John inhales sharply and opens his eyes.
'Escape and escapology. Give me the next one.'
'793.73.'
John laughs. 'That one's easy,' he says. 'Puzzles and mazes. What's next?'
'301.113.'
John takes a long time to answer. Linda looks at him carefully. He is frowning gently, and his nose is twitching. Perhaps the answer isn't in his head, Linda thinks. Perhaps he is sniffing it out of the air. Linda counts in her head. She gets to twenty eight and John still doesn't answer.
'Do you know, John?' she asks, 'we can Google it, if you like?'
John looks at her. He opens his mouth, and closes it again. Linda puts her hands up. She is scared. She forgot about John and Google.
'Sorry, sorry John. I forgot. I just forgot. It's this music,' she waves her arms, 'I'm dehydrated, it's the stress.'
A few years ago, there was an incident with John and Google. Now no-one is supposed to mention it to him. No-one is supposed to even use the word in his hearing. Linda made the addition to the Staff Manual herself. She thumps herself on the side of the head. She, of all people, should have known better.
'Keep it together, John - come on now.'
'Loneliness,' John says. 'That's what it is.'
'What?'
'301.113. It's loneliness.'
'Right.' Linda is looking puzzled. The messages from The Boss usually make some kind of sense. Perhaps the music is affecting her too.
Katerina has stopped carrying books and comes over to stand by John.
'Do you really know the whole of Dewey off by heart?' she says. She breathes out between a gap in her front teeth. Her breathing sounds almost admiring. Linda wonders if John is concentrating, or just swaying for the sake of it.
'Don't distract him,' Linda says, 'there's two more, John, are you up to it?
John waves his hands, and keeps his eyes closed.
'Give them to me,' he says, 'while I'm in the zone.'
'Okay. 621.38454. Five decimal places, John. I'm sorry. Can you do it?'
John waves his hands in the air, as if the answer is floating by him. He inhales deeply. He tugs the hair at the back of his neck. Katerina looks at him.
'John,' she says, 'we're depending on you. I know you can do it.'
Linda repeats the number. There is a crash from by the non-revolving doors.
'Citizen's band pigging radio!' Bob shouts, and bounds over. He is sweating heavily, but suddenly, Katerina doesn't seem to mind. 'Citizen's band radio!' he shouts again. 'Come on, Kit-Kat, we need you over here at the main defences.'
Katerina and Bob hurry away. John opens his eyes and crumples against the wall. Linda pats him on the arm.
'Five decimals, John - you can't blame yourself. You're not a machine.'
'What's the last one, Linda?' John asks. His voice sounds soft and hollow, because his chin is on his chest and his shoulders are slumped.
'It's, well, it's 331.137,' Linda says, hesitantly. 'I know that one.'
'Yes,' John says. 'Unemployment. We'd better tell the others. But first, if you don't mind, I'd like a moment alone.'
John turns away. He pulls the cuffs of his jumper over his hands, cups them over his mouth, and screams into them. Then he blunders away, towards the Computer Room.
The doors open and she walks out into the library. Her legs are shaking so much that the carpet doesn't feel like carpet at all, but the surface of a large sponge cake.
Bob is using sellotape like rope, and is tying the legs of the plastic chairs together. He's arranging the chairs in a long line in front of the doors. Katerina is lifting piles of westerns and Mills and Boons from the shelves and stacking them on the chairs. They are making, Linda realises, Some Kind Of Barricade.
Linda needs John. John is leaning against one of the windows. He is breathing on the window and drawing hearts and arrows into the condensation. Every time Bob shouts a command or an instruction, John flinches. He is humming, and he looks happy. Linda wants to crash through the sellotape-chairs-paperbacks barrier and escape into the world outside. She wants to breathe in the traffic-and-chips scented air outside the library. She wants to know she will never, ever have to burp alka-seltzer when she is singing 'Head Shoulders Knees and Toes' ever again.
'John,' - Linda says. John turns and looks at her. He smiles, and Linda thinks, for one second, he is going to hug her.
'John,' she says again, because he is turning back to the window. 'I need your help. I've had a message from the boss.'
John pulls himself upright, looks over his shoulder at Bob, Garry and Katerina, who are still building the barricade, and coughs.
'You went up there?' Linda nods. 'Do you need a chair? Shall I get you some ice?'
'I've got a message,' she says again, 'could be some instructions.'
'Okay,' he says. 'What is it?'
'793.809,' says Linda.
She is reading the numbers from the back of her hand. Some of them are smudged, but her hands were trembling when she wrote them down. She can't be blamed. No-one else was going to go up there for instructions, were they? John closes his eyes. Linda wonders what he is doing. She wonders if his mind is full of Browne cards and filing cabinets. John inhales sharply and opens his eyes.
'Escape and escapology. Give me the next one.'
'793.73.'
John laughs. 'That one's easy,' he says. 'Puzzles and mazes. What's next?'
'301.113.'
John takes a long time to answer. Linda looks at him carefully. He is frowning gently, and his nose is twitching. Perhaps the answer isn't in his head, Linda thinks. Perhaps he is sniffing it out of the air. Linda counts in her head. She gets to twenty eight and John still doesn't answer.
'Do you know, John?' she asks, 'we can Google it, if you like?'
John looks at her. He opens his mouth, and closes it again. Linda puts her hands up. She is scared. She forgot about John and Google.
'Sorry, sorry John. I forgot. I just forgot. It's this music,' she waves her arms, 'I'm dehydrated, it's the stress.'
A few years ago, there was an incident with John and Google. Now no-one is supposed to mention it to him. No-one is supposed to even use the word in his hearing. Linda made the addition to the Staff Manual herself. She thumps herself on the side of the head. She, of all people, should have known better.
'Keep it together, John - come on now.'
'Loneliness,' John says. 'That's what it is.'
'What?'
'301.113. It's loneliness.'
'Right.' Linda is looking puzzled. The messages from The Boss usually make some kind of sense. Perhaps the music is affecting her too.
Katerina has stopped carrying books and comes over to stand by John.
'Do you really know the whole of Dewey off by heart?' she says. She breathes out between a gap in her front teeth. Her breathing sounds almost admiring. Linda wonders if John is concentrating, or just swaying for the sake of it.
'Don't distract him,' Linda says, 'there's two more, John, are you up to it?
John waves his hands, and keeps his eyes closed.
'Give them to me,' he says, 'while I'm in the zone.'
'Okay. 621.38454. Five decimal places, John. I'm sorry. Can you do it?'
John waves his hands in the air, as if the answer is floating by him. He inhales deeply. He tugs the hair at the back of his neck. Katerina looks at him.
'John,' she says, 'we're depending on you. I know you can do it.'
Linda repeats the number. There is a crash from by the non-revolving doors.
'Citizen's band pigging radio!' Bob shouts, and bounds over. He is sweating heavily, but suddenly, Katerina doesn't seem to mind. 'Citizen's band radio!' he shouts again. 'Come on, Kit-Kat, we need you over here at the main defences.'
Katerina and Bob hurry away. John opens his eyes and crumples against the wall. Linda pats him on the arm.
'Five decimals, John - you can't blame yourself. You're not a machine.'
'What's the last one, Linda?' John asks. His voice sounds soft and hollow, because his chin is on his chest and his shoulders are slumped.
'It's, well, it's 331.137,' Linda says, hesitantly. 'I know that one.'
'Yes,' John says. 'Unemployment. We'd better tell the others. But first, if you don't mind, I'd like a moment alone.'
John turns away. He pulls the cuffs of his jumper over his hands, cups them over his mouth, and screams into them. Then he blunders away, towards the Computer Room.
17: A Hankering For Pernod
Linda stands in the corridor outside The Office. Being in the lift has made her feel really light, like she has stepped out onto another planet with gravity much lower than Earth’s. She lifts her leg out in front of her and slowly lets it fall back to the floor. She does this again, with her other leg, and then with her arms. She pretends she is a puppet. She feels like she is swimming through a vodka slush puppy.
Light usually glows through the window of The Office door. This light painstakingly forces itself through the layers of dead skin cells and sweat that have collected on the glass. Linda always gets a hankering for Pernod whenever she stands outside The Office. But not now. The light is missing. There is only blackness beyond the door.
Linda thinks about knocking. She knows she should be in control now. She is the Health And Safety Warden, and this is definitely a Health And Safety issue. Emboldened, she makes a fist and raps on the door twice. The noise of the knocking sounds like drums. It fits so perfectly with the music. She knocks again, louder, and hears the notes soar up to meet the knocks. The music is wrapping itself around her. She starts to sway. She takes the roll of cling film out of her dungarees pocket and uses it to tap the walls on either side of her. She spins then, eyes closed, limbs flailing. She moves up and down the corridor like a whirling dervish.
She doesn’t hear the high-pitched screech coming from the lift shaft. She doesn’t see The Boss slip silently into The Office and the door click shut.
Light usually glows through the window of The Office door. This light painstakingly forces itself through the layers of dead skin cells and sweat that have collected on the glass. Linda always gets a hankering for Pernod whenever she stands outside The Office. But not now. The light is missing. There is only blackness beyond the door.
Linda thinks about knocking. She knows she should be in control now. She is the Health And Safety Warden, and this is definitely a Health And Safety issue. Emboldened, she makes a fist and raps on the door twice. The noise of the knocking sounds like drums. It fits so perfectly with the music. She knocks again, louder, and hears the notes soar up to meet the knocks. The music is wrapping itself around her. She starts to sway. She takes the roll of cling film out of her dungarees pocket and uses it to tap the walls on either side of her. She spins then, eyes closed, limbs flailing. She moves up and down the corridor like a whirling dervish.
She doesn’t hear the high-pitched screech coming from the lift shaft. She doesn’t see The Boss slip silently into The Office and the door click shut.
15: This is More Than Stab-proof Underwear and Glory
Linda watches John press the button on the door. She watches the revolving parts slowly stop revolving and click shut. She is finding it hard to concentrate. The noise is wrapping itself around her thoughts. The noise, she thinks, has a taste too - something brightly coloured and gelatinous, something very sweet. The noise is a little bit like falling asleep on a warm beach with a pink and red cocktail in your hand. A cocktail with cherries and crushed ice and two umbrellas in it. And a stirrer in the shape of a parrot.
Linda thinks about cocktails. She wonders if the bottle of Gin and the lemon she hid in bottom of the padded Story-seat is still there. She is only dimly aware of Bob, issuing commands and making the staff and borrowers bring the contents of their handbags and lunch boxes and empty them out on the counter. She hears someone say, 'we're going to need rope, and lots of it,' and then she is back on the beach, listening to the ice rattle against the side of her glass.
Linda's eyes are drifting closed when she realises that Bob has put himself in charge, and Bob has chosen seconds and thirds in command. All men. Which is sexist. And this is something that as the Equality and Diversity Representative, she has a duty to challenge. And as the Designated First Aider and Health And Safety Warden, she, really, should be in charge. If something is going on. She opens her eyes wide and drags her attention away from the music.
Linda thinks about going Upstairs. She might need to knock on the door of The Office. She might need to get The Boss. She feels scared. But she should be in charge and being in charge sometimes means making decisions that are uncomfortable. Sometimes even unpopular. Being in charge can be a thankless task. It is not all about green face-paint, stab-proof underwear, and glory. That is something, she thinks, Bob has clearly overlooked.
Linda slips away from the others while they care counting how many borrowers are in the building, steps into the lift, and presses the button for Upstairs. Below her feet, rattling up the hollow tube of the lift shaft, she can hear rumbling that seems to be coming from the Basement Forbidden Area.
Linda thinks about cocktails. She wonders if the bottle of Gin and the lemon she hid in bottom of the padded Story-seat is still there. She is only dimly aware of Bob, issuing commands and making the staff and borrowers bring the contents of their handbags and lunch boxes and empty them out on the counter. She hears someone say, 'we're going to need rope, and lots of it,' and then she is back on the beach, listening to the ice rattle against the side of her glass.
Linda's eyes are drifting closed when she realises that Bob has put himself in charge, and Bob has chosen seconds and thirds in command. All men. Which is sexist. And this is something that as the Equality and Diversity Representative, she has a duty to challenge. And as the Designated First Aider and Health And Safety Warden, she, really, should be in charge. If something is going on. She opens her eyes wide and drags her attention away from the music.
Linda thinks about going Upstairs. She might need to knock on the door of The Office. She might need to get The Boss. She feels scared. But she should be in charge and being in charge sometimes means making decisions that are uncomfortable. Sometimes even unpopular. Being in charge can be a thankless task. It is not all about green face-paint, stab-proof underwear, and glory. That is something, she thinks, Bob has clearly overlooked.
Linda slips away from the others while they care counting how many borrowers are in the building, steps into the lift, and presses the button for Upstairs. Below her feet, rattling up the hollow tube of the lift shaft, she can hear rumbling that seems to be coming from the Basement Forbidden Area.
13: No 'Gun' At All
Katerina got up, eager to find out if John from Ref had finally lost it. In between the soundtrack of Bob’s out-of-breath squat thrusts and his sawing-through-toenails, she’d heard John shouting RAINBOW STRIPE NYLON DOOR CURTAIN! in the main library. There was no way she was missing this.
Even as she headed out to see what was going on, a Danger sign flashed in the back of her mind. From day one, she’d entertained the thought that John was the kind of person who might one day be part of a news story that concluded with the words: Before Turning The Gun On Himself. She wondered if her ‘hunch’ was perhaps now coming true. She wondered who he’d mow down first. She hoped it would be Bob.
As she got closer, she could see Linda had a death-grip on John’s arm. Katerina got excited that Linda might be wrestling John for his gun, and wondered what the outcome of that would be. She thought about how quiet the library usually was at this time of day. She wasn’t sure if there had been some weird kind of tear in the fabric of the universe, but things definitely didn’t feel right. Something seemed to be making the animals cranky.
Linda was waving a clipboard and dragging John towards the lift. At this close range, Katerina was a bit disappointed to see there was no gun at all. She thought to herself: This is no ‘gun’ at all, and wondered if she could make it into a clever joke or whether it would always be just a bad pun. She made the decision then and there to repeat the line to Bob every time he tried to bench press the Encyclopedia Britannica. She decided she would make a gun shape with her hand whenever she said it, too. The terribleness of the pun would drive Bob mad. The thought of this makes Katerina grin uncontrollably. She is still grinning when she hears the noise.
Even as she headed out to see what was going on, a Danger sign flashed in the back of her mind. From day one, she’d entertained the thought that John was the kind of person who might one day be part of a news story that concluded with the words: Before Turning The Gun On Himself. She wondered if her ‘hunch’ was perhaps now coming true. She wondered who he’d mow down first. She hoped it would be Bob.
As she got closer, she could see Linda had a death-grip on John’s arm. Katerina got excited that Linda might be wrestling John for his gun, and wondered what the outcome of that would be. She thought about how quiet the library usually was at this time of day. She wasn’t sure if there had been some weird kind of tear in the fabric of the universe, but things definitely didn’t feel right. Something seemed to be making the animals cranky.
Linda was waving a clipboard and dragging John towards the lift. At this close range, Katerina was a bit disappointed to see there was no gun at all. She thought to herself: This is no ‘gun’ at all, and wondered if she could make it into a clever joke or whether it would always be just a bad pun. She made the decision then and there to repeat the line to Bob every time he tried to bench press the Encyclopedia Britannica. She decided she would make a gun shape with her hand whenever she said it, too. The terribleness of the pun would drive Bob mad. The thought of this makes Katerina grin uncontrollably. She is still grinning when she hears the noise.
11: The Enquiry
this chapter was submitted by Richard Birkin
John is sitting looking over at Katerina sat sideways. This is a new thing. For a moment John thinks about going over there and enquiring about what the problem is. He puts his full attention into imagining what it would be like...to check that it is feasible before committing to anything.
John would get up and walk around his desk and stride confidently in the direction of Katerina. There would be wind in his hair, and all the other people in the library would move in slow motion. Linda may or may not try and put herself and her clipboard in the way of John and Katerina, but John would brush her aside like those coloured bits of plastic that stop flies going in your kitchen. John would appear at her desk and take the paper knife from Bob, place it at his chin and tell him what was what. And what what was was Bob not bothering Katerina again. In fact it might be that Bob would maybe work completely elsewhere.
John is feeling confident about the scenario. It is almost plausible. It is the most plausible out of all the scenarios. The ones from today at least.
There is adrenalin in John. John is feeling pumped. John stands up and walks around his desk. As John takes his first stride in the direction of Katerina an obstruction presents itself. The obstruction is a woman. The woman is taller and wider than John. The woman has eclipsed Katerina and Bob. There is no way around her, and nothing to do but ask, Yes?
I have an enquiry, says the woman who is large and wide.
John notices that she has some saliva at the side of her mouth. He almost says something about it. But no, it might be permanent. It might not be accidental. This is not what John needed. Now there is a cocktail of adrenalin and inner conflict going around in John.
John moves around the woman, who is staring at him, who is staring at the side of her mouth. John is cowering backwards and sweating. John breaks free from the gravity of the woman and turns around to face Katerina. But John doesn't see Katerina. John sees Linda. Linda has a clipboard and is standing in John's way.
Is everything alright John? Linda sounds more inquisitive than concerned.
John screams the first thing that comes into his head: RAINBOW STRIPE NYLON DOOR CURTAIN!
Everyone in the library looks at John, who looks around at everybody in the library. John is sweating.
John sees Katerina bending around Linda to see what's going on.
John wonders if there is such a place as 'completely elsewhere'.
9: 'Existential Crisis'
John is not asleep. John is just resting his forehead on the cool wood of the Enquiry Desk. He has not had an enquiry in the last hour and twenty-seven minutes. He is having an ‘existential crisis.’ He wants to answer riddles. He imagines how good it would be if they had a library Sphinx. He would make it sit by the main entrance, and each morning, everyone would have to wait on the steps outside for John to arrive and solve that day’s riddle. Only then would the Sphinx allow them to pass through the doors and get on with the daily grind. Nobody else would be able to answer. John would be the hero. And then he’d have no trouble attracting Katerina. She would stop by his desk, perhaps even perch on the edge of it, her leg swinging 45 degree arcs between him and the floor. And all the time, her body language would read: I Want You. You Are My Hero.
Wakey Wakey!! Ooh, Somebody had a Late Night, did they?
John can see worlds in the woodgrain. He imagines himself in the desert, the Pyramids rising out of the sand.
Well, at least you’re Actually AT The Desk. I did notice it was left Un...Personned earlier. We Can’t Have That. Are you OK? Can I help? Do you need a hug?
John is suddenly back in the library. Linda is holding what must be the new guy by the arm like he's a child near a busy road. The new guy doesn't make eye contact. The new guy looks at the place on his arm where Linda's fingers are. John nods and mumbles that he’s fine, and that no, he doesn’t need a hug, he will be okay.
This is Garry, he's New. Garry, this is the Reference guy.
John, says John, and holds his hand out. Garry lifts his arm but Linda still has hold of it, so the handshake is lopsided and strange. Linda doesn't let go. Right, Linda says and bounds off in the direction of the rubber plants, dragging Garry behind her. John wonders why Katerina can’t offer out hugs the way Linda does.
John thinks about hugging Katerina.
John’s brain laughs at John for this.
John tries to think about talking to Katerina.
John just thinks about chewing gum.
7: 500 Squat Thrusts A Day
Bob waits until the pansy from Ref has cleared off and then stands up, pushing his chair back so roughly that it rocks on its wheels and bangs into the front of Katerina's desk.
Watch it, she says, and slams a book with a horse on the cover onto her keyboard.
Horses - that's about right. Suits her. Silly mare. Nag. Bob ignores her and draws himself up to his full height.
When the weather's right, he can see himself reflected in the windows at the back of the room. He likes to do his mid-morning excersises that way. He interlaces his fingers and pushes his hands out in front of him. There is a satisfying crack. He puts his hands on the desk and does five mini-pressups, keeping his feet flat on the floor, his back as straight as a rod.
He feels, if he's completley honest with himself, extraordinarily potent today. He likes the word 'potent'. It reminds him of sex, and God, and himself. Potent, potent, he thinks. He stands back from the desk and cracks his knuckles again, this time over his head.
The new whelp Linda was dragging about has reappeared. He is pale and trembling. He is holding a back pack in front of him like it is a shield.
All right, guv? Bob says, and takes one step back into the space between his and Katerina's desks. He starts doing squat thrusts, feeling the satisfying tug from Achilles to groin. He grimaces. He puts his hands on his hips and puffs his chest out. He goes faster. The good smell of clean sweat wafts up to his nose from his armpits.
You've got to put yourself through some pain to get the benefit, he says. He looks over his shoulder to see if the daft nag is watching him, but she is leaning over an open book on her desk, a wisp of sticky tape dangling from one finger. Garry is watching her.
Pay no attention, he says, jerking his head backwards. I reckon she's on the blob. Lunch?
Excuse me? Garry says.
Do. You. Want. To. Meet. Up. At. Lunch. Bob says, spitting his words in time to the quickening tempo of his thrusting. Man. To. Man. A. Swift. Pint. He stops, stands, shakes himself loose.
I stick to a couple of tins of tuna and a creatine shake myself, but there's a sandwich shop round the corner if you're into that sort of thing.
Bob makes 'that sort of thing' - eating sandwiches, sound as if it's in the same category of hobbies as dressing in women's clothing.
Garry opens his mouth gently. He's about to speak when Linda appears behind him. She claps him on the shoulder and he jumps as if she's just chucked a pot of boiling water at him.
There you are! She says. Right! Induction over! Good! Now you know what you're doing, lets get on with it, shall we?
He feels, if he's completley honest with himself, extraordinarily potent today. He likes the word 'potent'. It reminds him of sex, and God, and himself. Potent, potent, he thinks. He stands back from the desk and cracks his knuckles again, this time over his head.
The new whelp Linda was dragging about has reappeared. He is pale and trembling. He is holding a back pack in front of him like it is a shield.
All right, guv? Bob says, and takes one step back into the space between his and Katerina's desks. He starts doing squat thrusts, feeling the satisfying tug from Achilles to groin. He grimaces. He puts his hands on his hips and puffs his chest out. He goes faster. The good smell of clean sweat wafts up to his nose from his armpits.
You've got to put yourself through some pain to get the benefit, he says. He looks over his shoulder to see if the daft nag is watching him, but she is leaning over an open book on her desk, a wisp of sticky tape dangling from one finger. Garry is watching her.
Pay no attention, he says, jerking his head backwards. I reckon she's on the blob. Lunch?
Excuse me? Garry says.
Do. You. Want. To. Meet. Up. At. Lunch. Bob says, spitting his words in time to the quickening tempo of his thrusting. Man. To. Man. A. Swift. Pint. He stops, stands, shakes himself loose.
I stick to a couple of tins of tuna and a creatine shake myself, but there's a sandwich shop round the corner if you're into that sort of thing.
Bob makes 'that sort of thing' - eating sandwiches, sound as if it's in the same category of hobbies as dressing in women's clothing.
Garry opens his mouth gently. He's about to speak when Linda appears behind him. She claps him on the shoulder and he jumps as if she's just chucked a pot of boiling water at him.
There you are! She says. Right! Induction over! Good! Now you know what you're doing, lets get on with it, shall we?
6: Induction
Garry stares at the door. The frosted glass window is coated in a film of yellow grime. It looks like it has never been cleaned. He doesn’t want to get any closer to it. The woman in dungarees has gone back down in the lift. He feels scared. He doesn’t like being alone in this corridor. He wishes she had stayed and accompanied him into The Office, introduced him. He knows he will have to move soon. He can’t stay in the corridor all day. So he slowly walks towards the door.
Garry imagines spores launching themselves onto him from the grime. He holds his breath, anxious not to let them get inside his lungs. Pulling his sleeve over his knuckles, he knocks on the door, hoping the rattle doesn’t dislodge anything. From inside the room, he hears a dull thump thump. He waits a few more moments before knocking again. He hears the thump thump again, and then a voice calls out Enter.
Still with his sleeve over his hand, he turns the knob and pushes on the door. It opens into a room bright with sunlight. Garry has to shield his eyes as he walks towards the desk. He can’t make out the occupant of the chair, all he sees is a silhouette framed by blinding white light.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
I’m here for the Induction, Garry says.
Thump thump.
The hand is moving. A whole arm is moving. It dissects the window in a perfect line. And then thump thump. A ball bounces into the hand. It is a tiny ball. It is all the colours of Planet Earth, but with more green than blue. Thump thump.
Pick a number between 0 and 999, the person in the chair says.
Thump thump.
Er....393?
A-ha! Death customs! Another!
616
Diseases. Another!
212
Existence. Very good. Now leave, there is much work to do.
Garry imagines spores launching themselves onto him from the grime. He holds his breath, anxious not to let them get inside his lungs. Pulling his sleeve over his knuckles, he knocks on the door, hoping the rattle doesn’t dislodge anything. From inside the room, he hears a dull thump thump. He waits a few more moments before knocking again. He hears the thump thump again, and then a voice calls out Enter.
Still with his sleeve over his hand, he turns the knob and pushes on the door. It opens into a room bright with sunlight. Garry has to shield his eyes as he walks towards the desk. He can’t make out the occupant of the chair, all he sees is a silhouette framed by blinding white light.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
I’m here for the Induction, Garry says.
Thump thump.
The hand is moving. A whole arm is moving. It dissects the window in a perfect line. And then thump thump. A ball bounces into the hand. It is a tiny ball. It is all the colours of Planet Earth, but with more green than blue. Thump thump.
Pick a number between 0 and 999, the person in the chair says.
Thump thump.
Er....393?
A-ha! Death customs! Another!
616
Diseases. Another!
212
Existence. Very good. Now leave, there is much work to do.
4: Restricted Items
Linda is shaking Garry's hand. It's a nice hand, a kind of soft and clammy but certainly very clean hand. She shakes for a bit longer and gives it a squeeze and strokes the back of it with her thumb. She wants to hug Garry because he is new and he is holding a roll of cling film and the poor little bugger looks like he's expecting someone to come and eat him right up any minute now.
Now Garry you must be nervous but don't be. As soon as we get your locker sorted out we are going to go and put that nasty little tube of cling film right inside and lock it up until lunchtime! Oh yes we are! And then I will take you Upstairs for your induction and I can see that the first that we need to address is the list of Items That Are Restricted On the Library Front Desks and Public Service Areas For Health and Safety Reasons and Due To The Imminent Terrorist Threat! That all right by you! Good! Lets get you upstairs then, shall we! Chop! Chop!
Linda takes the cling film out of Garry's hand. It feels like the poor little thing is trying to hold on to it, but it slides out right enough and she taps it on her palm like it is a baseball bat. Garry flinches, so she stops tapping and puts it into a pocket in the front of her dungarees. The pocket isn't big enough and the top of the roll pokes into her tummy now and again as she strides across the library.
She takes Garry through a back room. The one from Ref is hanging about in there again. And that means the Enquiry Desk has been left unmanned. Linda thinks two thoughts at the same time. She thinks 1) she will have to report the desk being unmanned but that would mean Going Into The Office. 2) is 'unmanned' a sexist thing to say for a representative of the elected members? She waits for him (poor little sod) to catch up and she pushes the button to call a service lift.
There is one other thing to remember! Other than Restricted Items! Everything Else You Can Pick Up As You Go Along! So first, or second, after Restricted Items, is never, ever push the button for the basement! You don't want the lift to go into the basement! The cellar! The storage area! It is dangerous down there and only personnel with the Working At Depths certificate are allowed to make Ingress into the Basement Working Area! Nothing to worry about!
What's down there? Garry asks. Linda doesn't hear him at first. She puts her head on one side as if she is a bird and asks him to speak up. He does.
Oh, well, she says, nobody really knows. Old books. Records. Archives. Special collections, I expect. If you're really curious, you should ask Bob. He might know.
Linda feels a hiccup coming on. She swallows hard, and bangs her chest.
The lift is very slow to move. Eventually it starts. Garry sways slightly. Linda smiles at him. She thinks about polishing the leaves of the rubber plants in the children's library. She thinks about The Library Lion. She thinks about crepe paper and gin and burnt sienna Crayola crayons. After a little while the lift stops and the doors slide open with a wooshing noise that sounds like disappointment. She thinks about gin again and steps out of the lift.
They are near The Office.
Here we are, she whispers. I think I'll leave you here. It's that door at the end. Good Luck.
Now Garry you must be nervous but don't be. As soon as we get your locker sorted out we are going to go and put that nasty little tube of cling film right inside and lock it up until lunchtime! Oh yes we are! And then I will take you Upstairs for your induction and I can see that the first that we need to address is the list of Items That Are Restricted On the Library Front Desks and Public Service Areas For Health and Safety Reasons and Due To The Imminent Terrorist Threat! That all right by you! Good! Lets get you upstairs then, shall we! Chop! Chop!
Linda takes the cling film out of Garry's hand. It feels like the poor little thing is trying to hold on to it, but it slides out right enough and she taps it on her palm like it is a baseball bat. Garry flinches, so she stops tapping and puts it into a pocket in the front of her dungarees. The pocket isn't big enough and the top of the roll pokes into her tummy now and again as she strides across the library.
She takes Garry through a back room. The one from Ref is hanging about in there again. And that means the Enquiry Desk has been left unmanned. Linda thinks two thoughts at the same time. She thinks 1) she will have to report the desk being unmanned but that would mean Going Into The Office. 2) is 'unmanned' a sexist thing to say for a representative of the elected members? She waits for him (poor little sod) to catch up and she pushes the button to call a service lift.
There is one other thing to remember! Other than Restricted Items! Everything Else You Can Pick Up As You Go Along! So first, or second, after Restricted Items, is never, ever push the button for the basement! You don't want the lift to go into the basement! The cellar! The storage area! It is dangerous down there and only personnel with the Working At Depths certificate are allowed to make Ingress into the Basement Working Area! Nothing to worry about!
What's down there? Garry asks. Linda doesn't hear him at first. She puts her head on one side as if she is a bird and asks him to speak up. He does.
Oh, well, she says, nobody really knows. Old books. Records. Archives. Special collections, I expect. If you're really curious, you should ask Bob. He might know.
Linda feels a hiccup coming on. She swallows hard, and bangs her chest.
The lift is very slow to move. Eventually it starts. Garry sways slightly. Linda smiles at him. She thinks about polishing the leaves of the rubber plants in the children's library. She thinks about The Library Lion. She thinks about crepe paper and gin and burnt sienna Crayola crayons. After a little while the lift stops and the doors slide open with a wooshing noise that sounds like disappointment. She thinks about gin again and steps out of the lift.
They are near The Office.
Here we are, she whispers. I think I'll leave you here. It's that door at the end. Good Luck.
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