Part 44 (2/2)

'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.

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