A NARROW MISS?

Apr 7th 2011, 13:34 by E O Hatterpol | KUIPER BELT

I WENT deeper into the stacks last night in search of that strange sound.  With belly full & head cleared, I figured I'd have a better chance at catching whatever was back there.


But nothing happened.  I roamed the aisles for what seemed like hours, scouring every shelf and shining light into every cranny.  It was disorienting, to be honest.  After a total of nearly half a day logged back there, I still don't have a clear picture of how many stacks there are or even what their layout is.  It's practically impossible to know which ground I've already covered & which is still left to explore.


So I gave up.  I just surrendered to the books back there.


I'm glad I did, because I ended up finding some really curious titles.  Titles that make me wonder about the true nature of this starship.


Remember yesterday, when I was talking about finding books "I thought authors had just made up"?  Fictional books that writers mention inside their own to make their imaginary universes more real? 


Well, I found more: Meric Cattanay: The Politics of Conception, by Reade Holland, Ph.D.; How to Putte Questiones to the Dark and understand its Answeres, author unknown; An Inquiry into some Points of Seamanship, by Tower, or Towson, I can't remember which; This Business of Griaule, by Henry Sichi; Hamster Huey & the Gooey Kablooie, author unknown; The Anatomy of a Minotaur, by Charles Hether-Gray; The Protocols of the Elders of Tralfamadore, by Kilgore Trout; One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, by Phyllida Spore; Revelations of Thirty-Six Other Worlds, by Paris Ormskirk; The History and Practice of English Magic, by Jonathan Strange; The Beatrice Rumfoord Galactic Cookbook, by Beatrice Rumfoord; Treatise Concerning the Language of Birds, by Thomas Lanchester; The True Purpose of Life in the Solar System, also by Beatrice Rumfoord; Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them, by Newt Scamander; The Only Way to Have a Successful Revolution in Any Field of Human Activity, by Paul Slazinger; I even found Old Words and Names in the Shire by Merry Brandybuck!  Merry. bleeding. Brandybuck!!


That's when I heard it: the sound of a single page of thin India paper being turned.


It was so quiet among the stacks that the sudden noise startled me.  I yelled out, dropping my copy of On the Serving of Mustard after Meals, fourteen volumes, collected by M Vaurillon.  With my cowardly yelp & the tunk! of an enormous compendium hitting the floor, you can imagine whatever was responsible for the noise got scared, too.


I heard the sound intensify & immediately knew it was on the run.  I took chase, flying through the stacks.  But this time, I had no regard for any books or my own body.  I was determined to catch it up.


I followed the sound of pages flicking faster & faster, almost as if they were tearing.  I knew it couldn't keep up that pace for long.  Suddenly, I followed the sound down a narrow corridor.  This could be my chance!


I heard the noise slow down, then slow down further.  I sprinted.  I heard a rustling sound, like the sound of books being reorganized at top speed by ten Flybrarians at once.


Then the noise stopped completely.


I ran as quickly as I could, barreling down the stacks in the half-gloom.  Suddenly-


Ka-THONK!


I had run at breakneck speed straight into a stack of books.  I probably should have passed out on impact, but I managed to hold onto consciousness.  I went tumbling backwards, & must have brought some books with me, because I ended up in a pile of them.


I was dazed, & probably not in my right mind, but I swear to you there was nobody there except me.  It was a tight corridor filled top to bottom with books arranged at haphazard angles.  There was only room for one person at a time; if somebody passed me, we'd have to turn sideways & suck in our bellies to negotiate it.


And nobody passed me on my way in.


Once the stars went away, I shook my head a bit & scoured the bookshelves for any sign of life.  This is going to sound stupid, but I thought maybe a squirrel or some other rodent had escaped from our zoo, so I looked all along the shelves for furry creatures.


I even dropped entire rows of books onto the floor without any respect in a desperate attempt to find some kind of trap door or secret passageway, but there wasn't anything.


I know it's been three some-odd weeks in space; maybe blast-off loosened my brains, or maybe I'm just getting cabin fever.


But maybe I'm right.  There's something back here & I'm going to find it.