Margites

2048

The fixed end of the first non-traversable portal was established in Mountain View, California in 2045. The random end was first detected by a weather balloon over Antarctica on Friday, December 21st, 2018, at 2:31 PM.

Quantum Nexus

***

The same drones that delivered purchases to the cans picked up bundles of refuse and flew them to the nearest Re Cycle plant. The bundles fell like rain in the Re Cycle yards. Dozers scraped the bundles into the sorting pits for separation into the beaters, grinders, and shredders to make three raw materials: Organics became compostum, metal was smelted down for smalloy, and repolymerized plastic and pulped wood fibers were liquified and mixed to specification for polypaper. Those who have the necessary credits can fulfill their needs by voice command: 3D printed toothbrushes, toys, cups, plates, and furniture. The possibilities are said to be endless.

Squadrons of drones picked up 30-gallon containers of the raw products and merged into skyway lanes. The destinations were factories or warehouses or the private cans of the well-to-do and landed. The compostum was sprayed on the fields, the gardens, or the yards as needed, and smalloy and polypaper printers were topped off.

Since the movie The Graduate starring Dustin Hoffman, plastic has been an important commodity, and since Johannes Gutenberg in 1440, humans have been dependent on paper. Plastic could still be had in abundance; but since cutting down a healthy tree was made illegal, paper was in short supply.

Books, on the other hand, were sorted and shunted aside early in the recycling process. By law, they had to be digitized before shredding. Multmodo packed the books in 50-pound travel bags. Drones picked the bags up and delivered them to the nearest of the 10 National Libraries.

***

Henry Midasian, a man with enormous ears and an unsatisfied craving for a fatter bank account, arrived at his office on the ground floor, National Library 3 in Diversity Land, aka Chicago. Henry was the digitizer.

Only ten libraries remained, the ten national libraries. Many of the abandoned public libraries had been converted to internet access sites and 3D printer stations for the unlanded. Coolerater vendors set up in the parking lots to cool off customers waiting in long lines.

Henry shoved aside books piled on the floor so he could open his door, put on his gloves, and sat down. “Let me have one.” The conveyor belt activated and delivered a book. It was a paperback, Windrusher’s Nine Lives by Parker Francis. Multmodo scanned the book cover, rifled through the pages, and said, “ABD,” which meant the book had already been digitized. Henry yawned and sent it down the chute to the AZ 7000 shredder in the basement. Henry was the anachronistic and mostly unnecessary link in the chain. “Next.” Another paperback slid to a stop in front of him: The Lesbian Lifestyle. Modo said, “IC,” irredeemable content. All books were supposed to be digitized, but Henry yawned again and tossed it down the chute. “Next.” President Grant’s Slave. Modo said, “NIA,” no information available.

Henry said, “Slowmo,” so he could get a little reading in while Modo’s claw hand turned the pages. The book was about the life of William Jones, the last slave owned by a president in the New Independent Lands of Like-mindedness, back when NILL was the United States of America. The book began in 1854 when Ulysses S. Grant was still just a farmer. His father-in-law, a plantation owner, had gifted Grant a human being who went by the name of Bill. Grant and Bill worked the farm as master and slave until Grant emancipated Bill. That night, Grant’s wife made Grant unwelcome in the house, and he slept in the barn. Grant learned that men do not live by their ideals alone.

Once Modo and Henry had finished digitizing the book, it went down the chute. The next paperback was falling apart. Some of the pages were dog-eared and more worn than the others, Mindy’s Wild Ride. “SMUT,” said Modo, so much unappetizing trash. Henry slipped it into his shoulder bag.

The next item on the conveyor belt was an unexpectedly odd-looking manuscript, The History of Cardenio. Modo said, “AO,” administrative override. The overhead lights started flashing red, and the conveyor belt to the basement shut down. Erma Bombeckian, the Head Librarian, appeared on Henry’s modo screen. “I’m sending a trolley down for that item, Henry. Modo, reverse the train of custody and find out exactly where it came from.”

Modo said, “It was part of a large cache of books found in Holdingford, Minnesota. A hoarder there passed away last month.”

After Erma clicked off, Modo asked, “Ready for another one?”

“I’ll be right back.” Henry stood up and walked out of his office.

***

20:03 (formerly 4:03 AM)

Harriet and Margo, unlanded partners wearing masks, spray-painted the camera on the library loading dock and started rummaging through the book bundle. Gnats were on their way. Drone gnats would come first. If necessary, the gnats would call in constable droids. Harriet and Margo had three minutes. Harriet threw the romances into her backpack, and Margo took the detective thrillers. They ran down the street and under the cover of the elms in the city park one block to the west, just before three gnats triangulated on the loading dock and then spiraled off in a search pattern.

Harriet and Margo shared a can near the park. They slept until 23:30 (formerly dawn minus 30), then, after breakfast, they shouldered their bags of books and went to the park. They sat beside the footpath and on benches 50 feet apart. Harriet and Margo were well known in the underground book trade. They fed the pigeons and waited for their regular customers, unlanded with limited screen access, who loved to read.

***

All ten head librarians linked up in privacy mode. Johannas Steinbeckistan, head librarian at National Library One (NL 1) in Government Land, formerly Washington DC, adjusted his turban and called the meeting to order. “Erma has uncovered a lost gem. She hasn’t even told me what it is. So, Erma, what have you found?”

Erma, flushed with excitement and an earlier champagne celebration, said, “Yes, a lost gem, indeed, or so we have thought for 350 years. I hope you have bottle of Dom at hand.” She held up the manuscript. “I present to you The History of Cardenio!” The others cheered and several corks popped. Salingeri of NL 5 leapt out of his chair and danced a jig around his desk.

Johannas said, “Fantastic! The best find ever. Only Margites would be bigger! Finally, we have the final chapter in the story of Quixote’s crazed victim of love. But is it authentic?”

“I believe so! Everything fits. The early modern English is as expected, and it is signed, wait for it…WS.”

The others gasped. Johannes chimed in, “That settles it. Fletcher is ruled out entirely.”

“You won’t be disappointed, and it will come to each of you in your turn, as per our agreement.”

“Anything else? Sometimes two or three turn up together.”

“It came out of a barn in Minnesota. If I find anything else, I’ll let you know.”

***

Erma stopped by the Digitizer’s office, something that never happened. “That was quite a find, Henry. My colleagues and I agree that you might just have earned yourself a bonus.”

“Modo identified. I just passed it on to you.”

“Still, I hope you appreciate what you had on your desk yesterday.”

“I do. I did some research last night. That manuscript is priceless.”

“Indeed, and you’ve earned yourself a gold star for helping to uncover it.” Erma shifted her weight and tried to look nonchalant. “Have you processed everything else that came in that package?”

“Nothing else set Modo off.”

Back in her own office, Erma asked Modo to review events of the Cardenio discovery. Modo said, “Henry’s heart rate and adrenalin spiked; and when you spoke to him just now, I detect deception. He’s holding something back.”

“What did he do when he left the room?”

“I don’t know, but he often goes out to load the conveyor belt hopper with more books.”

“How long does that take?”

“He usually makes a holiday of it. He goes to the lavoratorium and then the lunch room. He’s out of the office an average of 47 and a half minutes four times every day.”

“And on this occasion?”

“Two minutes, 37 seconds.”

Erma thought about it. “Are you familiar with Edgar Allen Poe’s story The Purloined Letter, Modo?”

“Of course! Dupin solves the mystery by deducing the letter must be hidden in plain sight.”

“Yes, that’s the one.” When Henry went home for the night, Erma spent four hours rummaging through the books piled in the hallway, the bathroom facilities, the lunchroom, Henry’s office, and the loading dock. Nothing.

***

Two constable droids stationed themselves, one north of Harriet’s park bench and the other south of Margo. Erma walked up to Harriet’s bench and sat down. “What’s with the show of force, Erma? We’re up to date on your kickbacks.”

Erma emptied Harriet’s bag of illegal books on the ground and kicked at a book entitled Gwendolyn’s Swan Song with her foot. “Since you are a repeat offender, Harriet, I could have you arrested, but…”

“But what?”

Henry was still at work an hour later when Harriet and Margo broke into his can. They didn’t find anything at first. They were about to give up, but Harriet used her depth finder to discover the false wall. It took them another hour before Margo found the hole in the baseboard that triggered the access panel. Henry had some well-worn pornography and a nice collection of Stephen King, but nothing that would set off alarms.

***

Henry opened his secret access panel to find his book collection gone. He quickly disassembled his bookshelf and, with a toothpick, triggered a spring-loaded access panel. He breathed a sigh of relief. Behind the shelf lay the manuscript he had carefully placed in a hiding place inside of his hiding place. If you leave some cheese out, the mouse does not bother to look in the pantry.

It was an NIA, something he had never seen until the day before: parchment with a wood cover, wrapped in linen, hand-lettered with a reed pen, Margites, The Man Who Knew Many Things, but All Badly! Homer’s lost mock-heroic epic that inspired the satire of Aristophanes and Horace.

It was old, very old, but well preserved. The book was written in a script Henry recognized as early Greek majuscule. There were scholia and marginalia!

***

Erma tossed another empty champagne bottle down the recycle chute, locked The History of Cardenio in her desk, and called Henry up to her office. “Thanks again for sending up Cardenio, Henry. Amazing!” She made a gesture with her hands to indicate her head might explode. “That was the biggest find this decade.”

“Can I read it?”

“No! I wish you could, but it’s been sent up the chain, and, let me tell you, the Big Shots were very pleased.” She adjusted the bust of Dr. Samuel Johnson on her desk, gave Henry a sly look, and said, “We have a promotion for waiting for you. Just give us what you’ve got.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Henry! We know you’ve got something.”

When Henry went back to his office, he asked, “Modo, where is The History of Cardenio now?”

“Locked in Head Mistress Bombeckian’s desk.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

***

For the next three months, books piled up to the ceiling of the ground floor of NL3. Henry made a show of trying to keep up. Erma was busy conferencing with the other nine library heads. Erma didn’t come downstairs, so she didn’t notice the backlog.

Much of Henry’s time was spent on something else. Modo was giving him a crash course in sailing. When he was ready, Henry rented out his can, locked his office door, walked out without saying goodbye, and caught an inter-zone transport to Cape Hatteras. Modo had found him a used Westsail 32, a heavy-displacement cutter rigged to be forgiving in rough seas, ideal for solo sailing. Modo arranged for it to be refurbished and stocked: Autopilot, self-steering, roller furling with lines running aft to the cockpit, GPS, a chart plotter, and groceries for two months, more than enough for the trip he planned. It was the first of May, well before hurricane season.

Henry stowed Margites in a hidden compartment of the gunwale and weighed anchor. He had a favorable wind and clear skies. His destination was 26.5°N, 70°W, the center of the Bermuda Triangle where The Black Hole Armada had often been seen.

Seven leisurely days later, he saw the floating city known as Dolphin Landing, Margaritaville and Las Vegas combined and floating in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. It took Henry two days to figure out the code. The key to the code was alcohol. Fortunately, he and Modo had stocked a case of Barolo. With an open bottle of wine, he could go anywhere in the outer circle, from boat to boat to boat, but the cruise ship parked in the center and the speed boats around it were off limits. Nobody went on board the Oasis without an invitation. Armed guards in speed boats patrolled the waters around it. Everybody Henry talked to wanted to talk about the Oasis, but only a few had ever been on board. It had a garden called Central Park, a pool that doubled as a movie theater, another pool with wave action for surfing, a water slide named the Abyss, a carousel, shops, entertainment, and a gym. The Oasis was a floating city.

Henry zeroed in on one of the outer circle boats, the Burnout. It flew the Jolly Roger upside down. The owner went freely back and forth to and from the Oasis. Her name was Phoebe Gates, and she did appreciate an occasional glass of wine. Henry asked her why she inverted the skull and crossbones. Phoebe Gates said it signified a protest. “Of what,” he asked.

“Of everything,” she answered.

A week and three bottles of Barolo later, Henry told Phoebe why he had come, and she agreed to help.

***

2084

If you ask, Modo will show you the Sat recordings from back then. The resolutions available at the time do not provide conclusive evidence. Henry Midasian can be seen leaving the Burnout carrying a package of the proximate size that would be expected and a bottle of wine. The package is wrapped in a blanket. He is on board the Oasis for one hour and 17 minutes. He leaves the Oasis with the same blanket, but the package it is wrapped around appears to be somewhat heavier.

His boat, The Golden Unicorn, is one of 23 ships that went down because of Hurricane Agonistes, the earliest Cat 5 hurricane on record.

There has been no subsequent sightings of Margites.