Chapter Sixteen- The Storming
The two allocated rebel Foreigners disguised LM-2 as a man and pushed their way into the library. LM-2, having been trained to speak in a deep voice and butt into conversations, made a passing resemblance to a young teenage boy with way more growing to do.
On LM-2’s suggestion, they watched and waited for the Librarian to leave. Manifesto the Great knew all about the Librarian’s habits.?Foreigner One knocked on the door.
“Bet you they won’t let us in,” said Foreigner Two.
“You say that every time,” said Foreigner One.
“Yes, well, there is a reason for that.”
“We have a right to be heard,” yelled Foreigner Two with a bang on the door.
“They’ll just send for that snotty Librarian,” said Foreigner One.
“Complete waste of time.”
LM-2 wondered. Manifesto the Great said the readers were idiots, nothing without the Librarian.
“I heard something,” she lied. “At the door.”
“Me too,” lied Foreigner Two.
LM-2 hammered the door. “I know you’re in there.”
“Go away,” hissed a voice from behind the door.
“We have something of interest,” she said.
“Interest?” said Reader One.
“The reflectors,” lied LM-2, “and I’m working on a bigger size . . .”
“Reflectors?” said Reader One. He creaked the door open to a crack; Foreigner One shoved his foot in.
“Don’t mention that word near the boss,” said Reader One.
“Boss?” said LM-2.
“James the Strong.”?“We just call him the boss,” said Reader One.
“To keep his spirits up.”?Reader Two appeared from behind with a “Shhhh—he hears through walls.”
“We’ve arranged to meet with the Librarian,” LM-2 lied as Foreigner One edged the door open.
“The Librarian is busy—seeing to the boss,” hissed Reader One with a sideways glance.
“He’s not himself.”
“The Librarian?” said Foreigner One.
“The boss,” said Reader Two
“More a grumpy old man than a man’s man,” said Reader One.
Reader Two threw him a “too much information” look.
“Well, he is,” snapped Reader One. “A right pain in the proverbial. Rarely laughs, let alone listens to a joke, and that new voice of his goes right through me like a dose of . . . constipation water.”
The men pulled a face.
“Used to love listening to him, now it’s like the screech of a hen mid-shag,” said Reader One.
The men chuckled.
“Shhhh,” hissed LM-2. “Was that footsteps? Let us in.”
The Foreigners pushed at the door.
The readers pushed back.
“Why don’t we talk somewhere else?” said Reader Two. “Meetings aren’t what they used to be.”
The Foreigners looked at each other. “Somewhere else? Then it won’t be a meeting, and you won’t be bound to do anything.”
“We’ll write things down,” said Reader One.
“Pfff, and then what?” muttered Foreigner Two.
“Look, just go away,” said Reader Two, “and we’ll talk of this later. He’ll be here any minute.”
The Foreigner didn’t budge.
“Is it true? Does the, err . . . boss sleep alone?” said Foreigner Two, getting into the swing of things.
Reader One stopped. “How did you know?”
Reader Two nudged a “shut it.”
“If only we had the old appointment system,” muttered Reader One. “And a few willing females . . .”
He stopped as James the Strong appeared from the shadows, looming over the Foreigners.
“There is no such thing as a willing female,” he said.
The Foreigners jumped.?“A mere myth,” stuttered Foreigner One with a nervous smile.
James the Strong eyed the Foreigner.?“Why are you here?”
“Democracy,” snapped Foreigner Two.
Reader One almost chuckled.? James the Strong threw him a look and, with a small fart, pushed open the door. Foreigner Two, a brave man, marched in behind him, followed by LM-2 and Foreigner One.? James the Strong eased himself into a chair and slid his feet onto the table, and before the readers had time to usher the Foreigners out, Foreigner Two jumped in.
“We’re here to defend the planet, protect things . . .”
“Boss doesn’t need to hear this,” muttered Reader Two.
“We’re running out of materials,” said Foreigner Two.
“Just chop down more trees,” said Reader Two.
“And when we run out of trees?” said Foreigner Two.
“Who cares,” sighed James the Strong.
“The thing is, we can’t replace a tree,” said LM-2.
“As if,” said the two readers in unison.
James the Strong eyed the teenager’s sweet face . . .
“We told them to go away,” said Reader One.
James the Strong sniffed. “How about we shut these windows? Can’t move for the smell of flowers these days. It’s bad enough having all these statues everywhere, but covered in flowers—that’s air pollution, that is. Makes me feel quite heady.”
“Quite, sir . . . err, boss,” muttered Reader Two, quickly moving to a window.
James the Strong turned to the Foreigners. “Did you know there is not one of me?”
“One?” said Foreigner Two.
“Statue,” said James the Strong. “There is not one statue of me. And even if there was, can’t see Aggie leaving flowers, let alone that son of hers.” ?He looked at LM-2. “Are you that Loud Mouth’s son?”
“Grandson.”
“Grandson?” James eyed LM-2’s feminine stance. “Heard of a granddaughter, not a son . . .”
“LM-2 here is but a mere student,” said Foreigner Two.
“Still learning,” said Foreigner One.
“That idiot grandfather of yours nearly had Wife-ie believing in stupid recycling,” muttered James the Strong.
“Recycling is not exactly stupid,” said Foreigner One.
“It keeps things tidy,” said LM-2.
“My father was always tidying up,” said James the Strong.
“There wasn’t a sock drawer in his room not color-coded, and quite frankly I found it boring.”
“Yes, but we are not talking of drawers, we are talking of recycling and statues,” said Foreigner Two.
“I hate recycling,” muttered James the Strong.
“You can’t hate recycling . . . it saves things,” said Foreigner Two.
“Shall I just push them out, boss?” said Reader Two.
“And it’s amazing what you can make with a few rubber bands and an old ‘tastes like steak’ packet,” said LM-2. “Some would say artistic.”
The readers gasped.?The word artistic enflamed James the Strong.
“Artistic? Artistic!”? James the Strong looked from one Foreigner to another; he stopped at LM-2. “You sure you’re Loud Mouth’s grandson?”
LM-2 nodded.
“You’re as much like him as Manifesto . . .” James the Strong stopped, looked away, then pulled himself together. “Personally, I’d ban statues, but these bozos here reckon it could damage things.”
“A bit of worship keeps the masses happy,” said Reader One.
“What harm does it do?” said Reader Two.
“Well, breathing for a start,” said James the Strong. “When the sun’s up, the city smells like a good-old-fashioned nurturing shed on a busy day.” ?He chuckled at his wit.
“What about if we were to create something new?” said LM-2.
There was a sharp intake of breath. James The Strong was not keen on anything “new” unless it was a shagging position.
LM-2 looked around. “Artistic?”
All glared at LM-2.
“Innovative?” jumped in Foreigner One.
James the Strong looked confused.
“You could go down in history,” said LM-2.
“Hmm, history—I like that,” muttered James the Strong. ?He stopped. “History? For what?”
LM-2, lost for words, began to stutter about spaceships and recycling until James the Strong, confused, put up his hand. ?“No one touches my spaceships.”
“Now shall I push ’em out?” said Reader One with a smug look.
“Sir,” said Foreigner One, “the touching of spaceships is merely for the benefit of your ‘Arrival Day’ celebrations.”
“Oh,” said James the Strong.
“Why yes, we like to keep things as authentic as possible for . . . err . . . .your pulling.”
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“Tell me more,” said James the Strong.
Foreigner One, with more technical talk than an engineer, jumped in, using gestures and reenactments that had James the Strong listening with his “I understand look”—until the Librarian appeared and, with his usual damper on things, put an end to the meeting.