LIFE IN THE BOOKSTACKS?

Apr 15th 2011, 16:34 by E O Hatterpol | KUIPER BELT DAY 11

I DON'T think I'm ever going back to the bookstacks.  I thought I was the Scooby Doo type, but I was wrong.


You know what I'm talking about: when the gang hears a noise down a dark alleyway, they "investigate".  Not me!  I'd rather be a living coward than a dead hero.


I got so pumped yesterday about breaking the 200 mark I just bounded off into the half-gloom without a second thought.  I just assumed I'd find something pleasant at the bottom of this mystery, like a loyal robot wolf with shoulder-mounted machine guns or a gorgeous, available woman floating in the golden glow of her cosmic aura.


I must be reading too much science fiction & fantasy.


Anyways, I got bored back there again & started leafing through books at random.  I flipped through a bizarre copy of Great Expectations that sees Pip stab Miss Havisham instead of saving her from the fire; a twisted version of Interstellar Pig where the Piggy explodes Barney & the entire solar system; & a copy of Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows that actually ends properly.


You know what I'm talking about there.


Then, suddenly, I heard it - that strange sound of thin India paper being flicked, like a dusty professor with coke-bottle glasses rummaging through an old tome for some lost fact.  


But this time, I didn't give chase.


Instead, I kept perfectly still, reading my alternate copy of His Dark Materials.  It wasn't hard to stay engrossed considering that in this version, Will's dæmon wasn't a shadow-coloured cat but a Pterodactyl.  Alternate His Dark Materials is nuts.  


You don't even want to know about the fight for the throne between Iorek Byrnison & Iofur Raknison.  Not suitable for children.


Anyways, I heard that eerie sound again, but closer this time.  My heart started racing; I lost focus on the page.  Was I putting myself in danger?


The sound came closer still, like a student so engrossed in his research he can't even wait to return to the safety of his carrel before skimming through a new source.


It took all my strength not to flinch or run away, but I kept my eyes squarely on the page - Lord Asriel & Mrs Coulter just did what together!? - until I heard the sound. right. behind me.


Now was my chance!  I spun on my heels like a drunken top, flinging Pullman's trilogy into the darkness.  I don't know if the book was supposed to be a shield that just slipped out of my hands or if I was using it as some kind of knee-jerk projectile.


But there was nothing in front of me.  My plan had failed.


But then I heard a new sound, like the "ffffffffffffffffffip!" of someone thumbing the edge of a paperback right next to your ear.  Out of the corner of my eye - movement.  I turned my head so fast it almost popped off.  There, at the end of the dark hallway: a figure.  


At least I think it was a figure.  Was it running away?  Too hard to tell.  It was too far away and shrouded in a jumble of books that must have been loosed from the edge of the bookshelf as it flung around the corner.


This is where it gets weird.  I can't be sure, but all those books looked like the back end of a human being, like in the Saturday morning cartoons when the Road Runner dashes off so quickly that Wile E Coyote is forced to snatch at his perfect outline in a cloud of smoke.


You know what?  I don't know.  I don't know what I saw.  It's dark and dusty back there; it could have been anything, and that's what I'm afraid of.


I can't believe I tried to lure it in like that; what if it had raked some giant poisonous claws across my back!?  I mean, how long has the Flybrary been zooming through space?  What if it picked up an unwanted stowaway that slashes at human flesh?


My number one priority is to get to the Homesphære in one piece so I can travel and write.  I don't need an untimely death in the spooky bowels of an old Starship.  You can forget about those faraway, half-forgotten bookstacks: I'm done with 'em.