The Banned Game

The book detective was hot on the president’s trail. He had investigated her ever since the famous book of William Faulkner, “Sanctuary” had gone missing from the library in a backwoods town somewhere in Australia.

The head librarian had been devastated whenever she called him and he had promised her not to rest before justice was restored.

The book detective’s sergeant told him it was but a wild goose chase. The book was probably just been tossed with the rest of the junk from the library. Who was reading that old stuff anyways? That book was hardly worth a dollar and the precinct didn’t run on principles.

You don’t get it, the book detective said. This is our chance to fine a president for an overdue book. Imagine the attention we will get whenever the president has to pay up. The Book Bureau of Investigation will no longer be defunded and nobody in possession of overdue books will ever be safe.

The sergeant thought this over for a bit. Maybe they could get the lawmakers to include jail time in the legislation? Maybe a few months per overdue books? Recidivists could be locked up for years.

Detective, you bring in that book stealing president and make her appear before the book court. I will make sure that all the jurors are librarians, the sergeant smiled wickedly.

Ms Jenny was pacing nervously around her home while reading the papers she had received earlier that day. The Book Bureau of Investigation had subpoenaed her to appear before the Book Council on the grounds of several missing books. The meeting was taking place in just two hours. Justice was about to descend on her.

The Book Council’s members were a harsh gathering of old men and women. All of them had thick glasses from all the reading of books since they were born and their dust covered outfits just added to Ms Jenny’s fear. These people probably never left their libraries unless they had a chance to condemn misfit readers. Ms President of Lanolinland had recently been convicted in The International Court of Books and was now serving a harsh sentence in the “Broken Reader” facility in Hague.

“Did you borrow these books?” The 90 year old woman stared at Ms Jenny. “I-I’ll plead the fifth”, Ms Jenny stuttered. “No such thing in the Book Council!” a dusty man snapped at her. “Pleading the fifth means you’re guilty”. “The books are not returned to the library, that means you are guilty”, they suddenly said in unison. They just kept on staring at her. Their faces were hard and angry.

“I see no reason for this going to court”, the First Councilman said, “the council will simply hand out the verdict to you”. “What about my rights as a defendant?” Ms Jenny tried to say. “You have none. Violating books is the ultimate crime. To such deeds no restoration is possible”, the First Councilman said in a high pitched voice.

She was thrown into a cell with the president of Lanolinland. “How did it go?” The president asked. “They threw the book at me”, Ms Jenny sighed.

Well looks like you and me Ms Jenny, said President Lanolin who was now behind bars. And this book. hmm Faulkner.
Ms Jenny wasnt willing to relinquish 'Sanctuary'.

Didn't you know you could just return it, or, you could just pay your fine? Asked President Lanolin. At least you still have the book. Mine are floating all around the world. President Lanolin sighed. She found a bit of comfort that maybe the library books she had 'lost' had found their way into readers hands instead of languishing on the library shelves, unread.

You will have to read it out loud to me, since that print looks a bit fine. Besides it will sound better with your accent.

Ms Jenny sat on her bunk. The president on the other bunk. She had asked Ms Jenny to read out loud for her, from the book. It all came across so strange. The trailer park, the palace, the rise and fall, and now, the prison cell. She opened the book and read one passage from the book out loud, in her southern, soft spoken voice.

As I went, I remembered my half-wakeful anxiety from the journey, and saw now that it was absurd.

The passage was not written in a context that had resemblance to her current situation, but the words, few as they were, described her journey with perfection. It described both of the two women’s stories. You can rise up to glory and be oblivious about it, but then, when it is all taken away, you realize how loose your grip on glory was because you did not know how to handle it. But now, you are at home, where you belong.

Kevin we no longer have a president, said Miss Greenlips Hine.
Ive known that for a long time, said Kevin. Democracy never works. Its just a fancy name for anarchy. Or a popularity contest.

We do have a King though.
Yes. Kevin glanced at King Mittens. He was purring. He had just eaten another pickled herring. It would take a lot of taxes to feed and house him.

My poor sheep are without a shepherd. I better go back to looking after them on the paddock, said Kevin. They need drenching. And he left the Beehive and didnt look back.

Miss Greenlips Hine went to the beach at Oriental Bay, fossicking for seaweed for her garden. The Kelp Kurtain was flourishing. When she returned to the Beehive, King Mittens had gone too. He'd found a new home at the local fish and chip shop where fishwife Jacinta now lived with her new husband.

There was a big swarm of bees in the Beehive. The drones were now following a new Queen bee and making honey as they were supposed to. Well I better get on with planting this manuka, thought Miss Greenlips Hine. Otherwise the gorse will take over and we will have to rename our biggest honey export Gorse Honey. But first I think I will just have a cup of kawakawa tea.

She brewed a cup and sat down on the balcony overlooking the parliamentary library. It was a beautiful sunny day, the sky was blue, and the clouds where white. One day every eye would look up and see. But for now there was only clear skies and no birds on the horizon.

Prison days were long and hard for Ms Jenny. She had to proof read at least ten books every day, which was difficult enough for somebody who had been taught rural English for half of her life.

The parole board had scheduled a hearing and she was set on making a good impression on the board. “What does the word library mean to you?” An owl like old lady asked her with a cracked voice. “Uh, a place where you can borrow books?” Ms Jenny said tentatively. “That’s right, sweetie, a place where you can borrow, not steal, books!” The fine wrinkles on the board members face slowly rearranged their positions into a smile. A vicious one, but yet a smile. “And what do you do with the books when you are done reading them?” A man with thick glasses his nose struggled to keep in front of his eyes read the question from his legal pad. “Uh, I return them to the library?” Ms Jenny said weakly. “Correct, you return them to the library, you do not keep them in your possession!” He did not look at her. Just stared at the legal pad.

The last member of the board was a bearded man with a funny hat. He had said nothing yet, but now he opened his mouth and the infamous golden tooth became visible. “Your petition for parole has been denied!” With as much drama as possible he stamped the document with the nefarious “DENIED” stamp.

Miss Lanolin asked if she could go online or make a phone call. She had to bail out Miss Jenny out of her misery or they'd both be stuck in the broken readers prison forever.
She considered calling Mrs Hardback at the Penguins books division to see if she could secure a new copy of Faulkner for Miss Jenny and return the library copy back to where it belonged. Though only Miss Goodbooks could stamp 'withdrawn' on any old library book, it was clear the Miss Jenny had stolen hers.

As for the mobile library it was now floating on a balsa raft/magic carpet on its way back to former Lanolinland. The only way was to extend and renew the borrowing period indefinitely or make all borrowed library books part of a worldwide floating international collection to be returned to any library in the globe. Librarians had frantically tagged every single book with RFID in event of a worldwide library catastrophe like this so at any given point on the planet, a library book could be located and who was reading it.

It was all too much for Miss Lanolin and she had to lie down on her prison bunk. The temptation to make every book an e-book and store them in the cloud was too much...she didn't know about her own library problems but was pretty sure she could find a solution to Miss Jenny's.

Miss Jenny are you just here because you haven't finished reading Sanctuary? Is that why you haven't returned it? Well this prison time is just so you can have extra time to read it! When you've done your time reading it we can go free. You made a start. Perhaps I will give it a go too. We can both take turns reading a chapter at time. It's only 380 pages.

Miss Lanolin gingerly picked up the Faulkner that was lying on the bunk. It looked like one of those novels that needed Cliff Notes as explanation. It reminded her of the time when she went to church, where only parts of the Bible were read because it was way too long, in a foreign language and they left out important bits as each sermon could only last 30 minutes tops, so everyone just read the little booklets summaries in Word for Today and never read right through from Genesis to Revelation.

I hope Sancutary has a happy ending said Miss Lanolin. I can't judge a book by its cover..I usually go by how many pages it has.

The birds were coming.
Miss Greenlips Hine could make out ...canada geese? eagles...or was it vultures. She had to be on alert from the Mosetarians who often sent spies with evil reports.

No it was a dove with an olive branch. The branch had a message on it, saying both Miss Jenny and Miss Lanolin had been picked up by the Readers Police and were safe and in a sanctuary, and were now being sanctified. Thors attempts at raiding the mobile library had failed.

Hallelujah said Miss Greenlips Hine. Thank you dove. Here can you return these books to the library. She fished out a copy of Art of War, and Odins Tales. They were long overdue on the Presidents bookshelf.

I'll be glad to not hear about Thor ever again. We're meant to be a peaceful Pacific Nation after all, not a branch of Norwegia and haven for ex-Vikings. Then she went returned to closing the Kelp Kurtain and the dove flew back to the library.

Ms Jenny was relieved to get out of the dreaded book penitentiary. After being hid in a very thick book, volume one of the history of textbooks, and the president of Lanolinland hidden in a Mosestarian picture book pushing 10,000 pages, they had finally made it to a bootleggers airstrip in the green forests of the state of Alabama. For the time being they were plotting their revenge in Ms Jenny’s old mobile home.

Hey girls, why have you stopped writing? I love reading what you’re writing!

I ban Susanna for not banning Jenny and Lanolin for not posting in the ban thread

Miss Jenny was pacing in her tiny house. She wasnt getting very far and had consumed quite a few mugs if coffee, and looked a bit wired. Her hair was a mess, and she hadnt slept in a while. She told Miss Lanolin she was plotting revenge.

Miss Lanolin also wasnt herself. Something had happened in the penitentary. She decided that she ought to tell Miss Jenny, confess all her faults to each other and pray for healing. She had been reading the Holy Bible, the only book that made any sense anymore. She had tried to read Miss Jennnys copy of Sanctuary but she couldnt even make it past the first couple of pages.

Miss Jenny wasnt listening though and tried to convince Miss Lanolin that setting fire to the library and firing all librarians was the only way.

But why? asked Miss Lanolin
Miss Jenny said her mobile home was going to run out of electricity, that they needed to prepare for the end times and that she was going to use all those unread books for fuel.

Ms Jenny realized that Kiwi English was mighty different from her own English. Her peace talks were interpreted as gung ho war talks by the close to Kiwi land president. Not good, but they settled the misunderstanding quickly, and agreed that this was a conspiracy made by the books themselves. It was a plot way too complicated to being pulled off by the frozen Mosestarians. It was the books no doubt. They were like AI, just flipping through them would get them running on the fumes of reading.

Why didn’t we think of algorithms, the president cried, we could have ruled the world and the universe too if had we only thought of algorithms. Now it was only commercials from the Mosestarian network to watch. They all said the same thing. Ice is good, and that their dictator would be re-elected.

Oh, how things had changed. For best, for the worse? Well, who could tell. Ms Ruby and Ms Jenny finally had managed to get a hold of the tractor trailer Chieftain. His game of power did not stretch longer than how long a tractor could go.

Ms President agreed to this and they brought him to the beehive for questioning.

Where they buzzed and buzzed so loudly that he couldn't hear himself think. And, the smell of honey was driving him nuts.

The great and benevolent Great Chieftain of Mosestaria - may his beard be ever long and pointy - twirled his moustache mysteriously. The bees and the honey had finally done their jobs. His arch nemesis from Rubyland and her closest ally from Jennymaesia would not be troubling him again, at least any time soon. One of his enemies had finally succumbed to the maddening smell of honey, whilst the other was unable to tolerate the stings of a thousand angry killer bees. A recent sinus issue had prevented the Great Chieftain from being driven insane by the smell of honey, and his tough, masculine, leathery skin had protected him moreso from killer bee stings than the soft skins of his feminine adversaries had protected their respective owners.

A quick call to his headquarters, a relatively short wait, and a helicopter marked with the insignia of the Mosestarian Royal Antarctic Airforce started descending into a clearing nearby the Questioning Beehive. Before it had fully landed, the Great Chieftain boarded the hovering helicopter through an open sliding panel, to find the flying machine was piloted by none other than the beautiful and loyal Chieftess Zipporah, and co-piloted by Mordecai, his faithful but not-so-sharp-witted cousin. An small attachment of GG's awesome mothers in Mosestarian nurse uniforms attended to the Great Chieftain's many killer bee stings obtained during his long bout of suffering at the Questioning Beehive, using the application of a special Mosestarian soothing ointment. The Great Chieftain nodded his head approvingly - he could understand why GG had such high regard for her mother, giving the attentiveness of these GG's awesome mother clones to his wounds.

As Zipporah piloted her master back to his secret Antarctic bunker, the Great Chieftain smiled grimly. With the defeat of the leaders of Rubyland and Jennymaesia, only the Fake News Editor from Lanolinland stood between himself and an easy path to total world domination. However, this final opponent would be a nut that was not so easy to crack.