Paper, the Lost Book, and the Dilemma of
Emergency Grammar
Matthew Ryan Fischer
Donnie reached into the inside jacket pocket of his suit and pulled a
piece of paper out. He was being chased and needed an escape plan. He didn’t
have that plan, but he had a scrap of paper. It wasn’t much, just enough to
write a couple of words or maybe a sentence. He’d have to be precise with no flamboyance.
Illuminators were often a bit ostentatious and especially verbose. But extra words
were not on his side here. The Arsonist was close and he might only have time
to write one thing. He could write himself a weapon, or a vehicle, or perhaps
more importantly he could write a message for a Librarian to find. If he chose
a weapon and lost, or a vehicle but got caught, then the book would be lost and
none of his efforts would matter. But a message, that would be immortal. He
might lose his life, but the words would go on.
Only one problem, Donnie didn’t want to die.
Besides, Donnie didn’t have the book on him. He could send Nestor a
message where to find it, but that didn’t mean the book was safe. Nestor was a
Forensic Librarian and one of the best paper chasers Donnie had ever met, but
there was a difference between finding old documents in antique shops and
ancient ruins, and fighting your way past a bunch of Arsonists. Nestor had been
attacked in Hong Kong once over a book, and had made it out of that in once
piece, but Donnie hated to place his friend right back into another deadly
situation.
Once upon a time Donnie and Nestor had worked for a branch of The Stacks,
a particularly private and secretive library full of ancient and arcane knowledge,
but their branch had been destroyed by a bunch of Arsonists, including the
firebug that was chasing Donnie right now. Both men had been thrust out into
the field and were more often than not left to fend for themselves. The Stacks
were dwindling and manpower was at an all-time low. In a previous age, neither
of them would be sent out on recovery missions without at least one partner.
But now, their numbers were so low, Donnie could go months without seeing
another Librarian.
Nestor had found several blank pages and an entire handwritten manuscript
in Hong Kong. There was no telling how many other volumes there were floating around
that city. But Nestor didn’t know which book he actually had. Donnie didn’t
either, but was pretty sure it wasn’t anything apocalyptic. He was pretty sure
the so called Books of the Apocalypse were nothing but myth anyway. But Donnie
did know that Nestor was one of the best Librarians he had ever met. So if he thought
he was onto something, he probably was.
Donnie grabbed his pen and settled on sending his superiors a note. They’d
send Nestor and Nestor would find where he had hidden the manuscript. Donnie
was sure of it.
Before he could write a word though, a wall of flames erupted. Donnie was
thrown back and fell to the ground. A directed flame quickly burnt his scrap of
paper to a crisp before Donnie could write anything, and he was left
defenseless.
The Arsonist stepped out. Donnie knew
he was in trouble. But the book was hidden. That would be enough to keep it
safe, Donnie hoped. The Arsonist could kill him, but the book would be safe.
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