“The Light House Keeper stopped writing just like that?” the Captain asks.
“He was given the Light House as his home and was allowed to write from within the confinement of its secured metallic walls,” Hate continues, “that way the words couldn’t escape. He still indulges in it but his time is mostly divided into looking after the incoming bad books and the maintaining of the fire. Once he finishes writing one of his own books, then he is obliged to and must destroy it. Often, he re-reads it to his leisure and memorises it before burning it, just in case he might one day be able to come out of exile. After all, he is a hope merchant.”
“Some hope,” Labaguette comments.
“Well,” the Captain continues, “it’s all been very interesting but—“
His words are interrupted by a deep roar that rises from the chore of the planet they’re standing on. It is the end. The furnace-with-no-name is out of control, its fire raging as it swallows good words and good books that have escaped from their shelves, choosing to die home rather than see it come apart. They are indigestible and terrible explosions follow as the furnace spits them back out, unable to even swallow them. There are volcanoes rising fast and erupting, black smoke billowing, lava spurting.
“There’s no exit,” the King insists, “we’ll never make it out of here alive.”
“Capitaine!” Labaguette, inspired, exclaims, “review your books. There must be one or two on ‘exits’.”
To be continued…©
He was found by the Librarians, trying to erect a fence around the furnace-with-no-name along with the help of some of his remaining advisors, to gain full control of it, threatening all who came close with death. All words and books that escaped from the catastrophe knew where to go instinctively and travelled to the Planet of Books, with the consequences that it entailed. All planets that hadn’t been caught by the disaster were left with insidious internal damage as words and books that were buried deep into their ground began to seep through and rise from the voids they had created. These planets are still in damage control: although the bad words and books are gone, the abysses are like deep wounds that take time to heal. There’s still no telling whether or not these planets can muster the strength to recover or if they’re condemned. Nowadays, Mr. Bookdeal has become the Light House Keeper. His real name is never to be uttered again.”
“Zat’s quite a story,” Labaguette says.
“There’s a storm coming,” the King says.
“Quite a story,” the Captain adds.
“A storm?” Labaguette asks.
“A story…” the King muses.
“I see no storm,” the Captain declares.
But the Light House begins to shake. It might be the end.
“We must be going,” the King says.
To be continued…©
“By that time, because of Mr. Bookdeal’s exploitation and abuse, the-planet-of-all-things-temporary had lost its reason to exist and was displaying unmistakable signs of discontent. It rumbled, trembled and it looked as if the planet was going to spew the entirety of the parked containers and it did: it erupted into a major cataclysmic blast.”
“Like a nuclear explosion?” the Captain asks.
“What?” the King asks.
“Not fair, not fair,” Labaguette insists, “too many new words in your head, Capitaine!”
“Like a trillion nuclear explosions,” Love answers, “and just like such explosions, the fall out – bad words and books – invaded their surroundings and rendered everything malignant and malevolent for millenniums to come. Chaotica was caught in the explosion as it was part of the same planetary system as the Planet-of-all-things-temporary.”
“Why save Mr. Bookdeal?” the King asks.
“He knows his business all too well,” Hate replies, “he was on business trip on Inventica, a planet of submissive creators of all types which he controlled far from Chaotica, when there was news of the disaster and Inventica had to be evacuated immediately. Mr. Bookdeal jumped aboard his ship and disappeared as Inventica was caught in the ultimate blast. That universe and surrounding universes didn’t make it either. The Librarians sent their own in pursuit of Mr. Bookdeal but had no difficulty finding him as he is addicted to ingesting wicked and sinful words and books and that all that he could think of was to flee to the Books Planet.
To be continued…©
“You see,” Hate continues, “the ‘Book of Endless Nourishment’, apart from an endless supply of fresh food, also included various useful books on food such as the ‘Book of Crops’, the ‘Book of Self-Reproducing Food’, ‘1001 Ideas to Improve Your Writing To Satisfy your Hunger’, etc. In fact, there was a whole department of books that catered for the needs of any potential writer who might succumb to the pangs of hunger while attempting to write something good. It’s simple: all you had to do is to commit yourself to good writing throughout your life to get food.
Unfortunately, Mr. Bookdeal threw his evil intent into the works and is getting his revenge at this very moment, as you know. When the Librarians uncovered the truth, they set out to warn Mr. Bookdeal and Chaotica’s inhabitants that this wouldn’t do, that there is always a price to pay. The-Planet-of-all-things-temporary wasn’t meant to be used solely for parking one’s truckloads of poor writing they insisted; it had other purposes: any breed or race soon predestined to extinction was allowed to mutate there for a new generation of their own to be born into new creatures better adapted to new conditions on their planet of origins where they were sent back. It wasn’t just creatures, there was a section for objects too, inventions, tools of all kinds that had originated from any corner of any universe and evolved over time. The-Planet-of-all-things-temporary kept trace of any creation – be it object or creature – for records purposes as well as for cloning, should this ever be necessary.
To be continued…©
“This is where the real trouble began:” Hate says, “foul words and awful books leaked and found their way to the Planet of books. There, they bullied the good words and books out of their shelves. There were whispers. There were words mixing genre and race. There were distorted, altered and mutant words and books being born that spread like a plague all over the planet.
Soon, food shortages appeared all over galaxies as the simple act of writing equated loss and tragedy: aspiring writers and those who produced works of poor quality were sent to the Planet of Books and thrown into the furnace-with-no-name. Those already established as writers could only continue writing anonymously and in hiding, should they dare. More often than not, they were bought by Mr. Bookdeal to seek out bad writers in exchange for a few extra scraps of food. By the time the Librarians found that the petition had been substituted, it was too late; you know the rest.”
“What about the original Petition?” Labaguette inquires. The Captain reads:
“It is understood and agreed that by bringing your poor quality wording to the Planet of Books, be it spoken or written, you will refrain from generating an oversupply of such words and books. We will send erudite Librarians to every planet to help master the creating of quality words and books and teach all those who wish to master the craft, for free. In exchange for those seeking to become writers and pledging allegiance to their craft for as long as they shall live, we promise to transport your bad words and books to the furnace-with-no-name until such time as your time has come to rest in peace. Furthermore, you and your close relatives will be paid back in endless supply of food from the best food book which we own the rights off: ‘The Book of Endless Nourishment.’”
To be continued…©
“It is understood and agreed that by bringing your poor quality wording to Chaotica, be it spoken or written, you will have refrained from generating an oversupply of such words and books. We will accept one shipment of bad wording per planet, per millennium. Therefore, when the time comes to bring us your shipment, we will transport your words and books to the furnace-with-no-name at our own cost. And, until such time as your once-in-a-millenium-time comes again, you will agree to place your reduced surplus of poor work (one container per year per 5000km2 of land) onto the planet-of-all-things-temporary where they will be safely contained and constrained. You will also be paid back in food from the best food book which we own the rights off: ‘The book of endless supply of designer food.’”
“Poor quality work sprouted anyway and didn’t decrease as expected, on the contrary,” Love continues, “soon, it started to leak from the planet-of-all-things-temporary as it was not only small, but it couldn’t cater for the sheer volume of bad work that came from every corner of every universe; and, as the oversupply couldn’t find a decent outlet, creatures found ways to hide the poor work they hid by digging deep into their soil or sending it into rockets far, far away from their own galaxy. The threat of hunger loomed as Mr. Bookdeal became suspicious and had to send his auditors to verify that the numbers of containers per planet matched those in his books and found that the truth was kept desperately hidden from him and although he couldn’t quite prove the wrong doing except for the planet-of-all-things-temporary being rather full, he and his auditors could see the despair in the eyes of the creatures they requested the truth from. Eventually, Mr. Bookdeal retaliated by stopping the food supply at whim.”
To be continued…©
It was said of him that he was a mere legend in the imagination of petty and hopeless folks who hadn’t been raised in believing in themselves. The books created on Chaotica could say what they wanted to and give birth to more of their own kind better than anywhere else.”
“A leading planet of some sort,” the King retorts.
“Precisely,” Love answers, “one so powerful that it threatened the balance-of-all-things, this is how Chaotica was best described.”
“Chaotica is no longer on the maps in my head,” the Captain confirms.
“The Librarians were in a quandary,” Love explains, “the unlimited and increasing supply of bad books from Chaotica kept the furnace-with-no-name satisfied, but Chaotica’s surrounding planets felt vulnerable, exposed and not without reason and that until they were left with no other choice but to threaten to boycott the eternal fire. They would stop their supply of bad books reaching the furnace-with-no-name and instead send them to Chaotica’s warehouses in retaliation for Mr. Bookdeal’s prejudicial monopoly of the furnace as well as for his attempts to conquer other planets using his books and manifestos.
In the beginnings, a mere petition was written to try and bring a peaceful resolution to the matter, but, instead, Mr. Bookdeal got hold of it, destroyed it and replaced it with his own, enrolling people and creatures everywhere with false arguments, without anyone realising that its enticing policies were attractive for all the wrong reasons and would create the worst chaos imaginable.”
“This is what the petition said”, Captain Traumatic continues:
To be continued…©