Clark: At the Library

At 11:00AM or so at the OPL, as Clark is shelving a parcel of books, a young woman rounds the corner. She is average in both stature and appearance, but there's something slightly arresting about her. Her clothes, maybe - she is in a trim suit of dove-grey that seems a little anachronistic and too-styled for this day and age. She wears a pair of spectacles low on the bridge of her nose and her blonge hair is short and wavy.

"Mr. Gordon?" she inquires as she approaches. "I'm sorry to bother you, but your supervisor said you wouldn't mind if I came and had a talk with you."

Clark looks up from his books, obviously startled. Clark was enjoying the quiet solitude of book sorting. He wanted some quiet time away from the front desk area. He was certainly not expecting to be interrupted by a mysterious woman that knew his name. He takes note of the general look of the suit quickly, noting it's characteristics in case he needs to do online research about it later. He takes note of her face as well. Clark has read enough detective stories to know that mysterious women often come with trouble.

Of course, this wasn't a detective story. He wasn't the dashing hero. He was just Clark Gordon, the plain old boring librarian. This wasn't going to lead to an exciting tryst and high speed chase. This woman probably just wanted help finding an obscure book or something. Probably for her husband knowing Clark's luck. Clark's supervisor Peter knew that Clark spent more time in the Library than anyone else. Logic as always was quickly stripping away danger and excitement. This was just another library patron who needed help.

All the same, if she needs help, she needs help. Clark straightened his hideous tie, tried to swallow his nerves and smiled his best customer service smile at the unknown woman.

"It's no bother at all, Ms. If Peter sent you over to me I'm sure it's important. What can I do for you?"

"My name is Belinda Mills. I'm about to purchase a very rare and extremely expensive book, and I need someone to act as a...as a frontman, so to speak. You see, the seller from whom I'm purchasing the book is a bit of a elitist, and I've come to realize he won't deal with me fairly knowing that I've a limited knowledge of first-editions. I think he likens it to a casino owner from Vegas wanting to buy a Monet to hang in his Mega Buffet." She smiles wryly. "He had me checked out, and the jig is up. So. I need someone whose knowledge of the printed page will impress him."

Her delicate, rather efficient-looking hand delves down into her purse to retrieve a card, which the offers to him. "This is the address of the bookseller. If you're agreeable, I'm meant to meet him this evening at eight o'clock. I can't offer much in the form of payment, but he's agreed to let me have a first-edition copy of The Sign of the Four by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I'm not sure if you're interest in Sherlock Holmes novels, Mr. Gordon, but the version of the novel in his possession is one of the few remaining Lippencott's Montly Magazine editions. I believe it's very, very rare."

"It's very nice to meet you Belinda, I mean Ms. Mills."

Clark listens to the proposition and his eyes go wide at the first edition copy of The Sign of the Four. He tries to hide his obvious interest but fails miserably. However, he tries to play it off and be cool. The detectives in stories don't let "dames" get them all worked up. Besides, this sounds like a setup.

Of course Clark has no idea why someone would want to set him up for anything. It thus must just be his imagination running wild. However, a juicy first edition would be quite a treasure. It can't hurt to ask a few questions.

Clark nervously adjusts his tie again. He's never been propositioned by a woman before. Sure, it isn't a sexual proposition but it's a proposition all the same. Here is a woman that needs something. Something from him.

Clark takes the card from her hand and quickly realizes that he is staring at her. He tries to recover.

"Ummm....so, a rare first edition huh? Wow...Belinda, I mean Ms. Mills. This is a very odd request. You are telling me that I just need to help you purchase a rare book tonight and then I get a rare book in return?"

Clark is looking down at the card in his hand, trying to recover still from staring too long.

"I mean, it just sounds too good to be true, you know? These books are legal right? I mean, I just can't get involved in anything illegal. You understand right? I mean I would love to help you, but if either of the books is stolen or anything I just can't help you."

Clark tries to be brave and looks up at Belinda Mills again.

"I would...I would love to go with you tonight to help you purchase your book. However...I...I just need more information first. You mentioned that the book you want is very rare and very expensive. What is the book?"

Clark drags the fingers of his right hand through his hair nervously.

"I'm...I'm just curious really. Intellectual curiously. I just wonder if I've heard of it. Also...you mentioned that this man had you checked out and wasn't impressed with your knowledge of first editions. If you aren't normally a collector may I ask what you do, Ms. Mills and why you want this book?"

The conversation wasn't going how Clark expected. He didn't know what to do. He expected she wouldn't yell because they were in the library but beyond that he had no idea how she would react. He really didn't want to lose the chance to get a first edition of The Sign of the Four but at the same time he didn't want to get involved in something illegal. Situations like this were always so intriguing in his books, but now that Clark was actually in the middle of one he simply didn't know what to do.

"I don't blame you for being dubious," Belinda replies with a shrug. "And I think it's good that you want to ask questions before leaping into anything.

"I'm the personal assistant of someone who does, in fact, collect rare books. She also collects art, artifacts, jewelry and 1950's Rockabilly memorabilia. I think she may collect Pez dispensers as well. The book in question isn't actually a book. It's a rare copy of E.C. Comics' The Haunt of Fear #29. Apparently, they were a line of horror comics back in the fifties. If I'm to believe my employer, there's only one copy in the world of this particular issue."

She smiles ingratiatingly and warmly. "And, please, call me Belinda, or Bel. Everyone does."

Clark can't hide his surprise. The mysterious employer of the mysterious Belinda wanted him to help her purchase a super rare comic book. This stuff was gold. Clark thought about a way to incorporate it into his novel.

"Wow, that's pretty incredible Ms. Mil...I mean Bel. Your boss sounds like a really interesting lady. Any chance I can meet her? It sounds like she has quite the collection. I would love to see it."

Realizing his presumption Clark straightens his tie again nervously, trying to figure out what to say next.

"Well, that is...if she was agreeable. I mean...I'm going to be getting a really nice book, so she certainly wouldn't owe me or anything. It...it would just be nice."

Clark fidgets with his glasses.

"I'm certainly not an expert on comic books. I mean I've read plenty of them over the years. Some of them have really good stories after all...it's just...it's not my specialty or anything. Is that going to be a problem?"

"It's actually better that way," she replies with a chuckle. "The bookseller, as I mentioned, is an elitist - I don't think he cares about the comic book or knows anything about the genre; he just likes to puff up with pomp and make sure any buyer is 'worthy' of his business. That's why I asked you, instead of someone with a huge collection of comics and graphic novels - our dealer won't be asking about Superman; he'll be asking about Milton and Byron."

With a glance over her shoulder, she sighs. "I should go. I've got a dozen more errands before tonight." Her eyes move back to Clark. "I hope to see you this evening, Mr. Gordon. Thank you again for taking the time to see me."

And, with that, she turns and walks crisply and gracefully away.

Clark laughs softly.

"Milton and Byron I can do."

Clark watches Bel turn and walk away. The abrupt ending of the conversation catches him off guard but he tries to recover gracefully. He fails of course.

"Well....right. Nice meeting you, Bel. I'll...I'll see you tonight. Nice meeting you."

Clark watches her walk around the corner and then he slumps down against the bookshelf. He loosens his tie and tries to steady himself. It all happened so fast and he was still trying to adjust to the excitement. It was probably just going to turn out to be really boring, but at the moment it was just too much. After a moment he gets up again, straightens his elegant tie and goes back to sorting books.

Eight this evening simply can't come fast enough.

(Fast forwarding.)

The address on the card is a small used bookstore on 436, in a strip mall that it shares with Thriftko, Big Lots, and several antiques dealers. The store itself is brandishing its 'Closed' sign, but Belinda is already there and tapping lightly on the glass door with an immaculate fingertip. As Clark arrives, she turns and gives him a quick, pleased smile. "Ah, Mr. Gordon. So glad you decided to come." And then she turns back and continues to tap on the glass. "Now if I could only convince the bookseller to open up and let us in..."

Clark returns the smile. He holds it probably just a little bit too long.

"Well, I'm glad to be here. I would hate to get you in trouble with your boss or something."

Clark looks at the closed up bookstore and frowns. He messes with his tie without realizing it. The tie has changed. He is now wearing one of his "power" ties. It is sure to impress. It is even more hideous than the last one that Bel saw him wearing.

"Ummm, are we sure he knows we're coming?"

"Ohhh," she murmurs, somewhat distracted with peering into the shop, "he knows." She lifts a hand to rap again, and then there is a soft 'click' of the lock being turned. Straightening, she flashes Clark a smile. "There we go!" she decrees, and opens the door, stepping in.

The shop is small, crowded with books and very dimly lit by some source Clark can't pinpoint. Something, perhaps, toward the back that's barely able to reach its glow. There is a little counter to the right with an antiquated cash register and piles of books behind it. A Regulator clock ticks softly on the wall behind the counter.

"Tome?" Bel calls, and she lays her purse carefully on the counter's top. "It's Miss Mills. I brought Mr. Gordon from the public library..."

And, suddenly, Clark hears a clear voice. "Of course you have. D'you think I'd have unlocked the door if you hadn't brought him?" It sounds...rather like a crabby Orville Redenbacher. He hears the unmistakable sound of pages rustling, and then a rather thick, hardbacked book with a green cover is hovering toward them from the back of the shop. It turns itseld horizontal, so that the opening and closing of its cover serves as a makeshift mouth. "I trust he's as much an expert as you touted him to be, Miss Mills."

Clark just stares. If he was a hero in some detective story or comic book he would have a really clever thing to say in this situation. He would dazzle both Bel and "Tome" with his amazing wit and worldliness.

A book was floating in mid-air and "talking" to Clark and Miss Mills.

This wouldn't freak out Sherlock Holmes. He would just look for the wires or the mirror or whatever else was being used to make the illusion. Clark looked around for the source of this affront to the natural laws of science. There had to be some kind of trick. This couldn't be real.

Could it?

"Ask him," suggests Bel, shrugging. And Tome, the floating, talking book, does just that - he swivels a bit and...looks?...at Clark.

"Mr. Gordon, Miss Mills boasts that you are not only an excellent librarian, but a true lover of the written word. Is this true?" For an eyeless, faceless thing, Tome certainly seems adept at scrutinizing Clark with a rather exacting expression. "I suppose you thought my concern overly zealous, mm? But, now that you've seen me, you surely understand that my interested is well-vested. Books are not just treasures of literature to me, my boy. They're my kind. My kin. My race. And I cannot in good conscience hand one of my own family over to someone who won't be able to appreciate and care for them."

Clark continues to stare at Tome. It's just too incredible. It can't be real. Bel must have drugged him somehow. It's the only thing that makes sense. Either that or he's asleep or something. Clark pinches his right leg hard. Nothing happens but pain. Well, there goes option two.

It has to be a trick. Bel and some old man who must just be out of view are just playing with him. This must just be some kind of sick game for them. They must be crazy.

Crazy is dangerous. Clark decides it's best to play along. This is scary. Really scary. He doesn't want to die.

Clark closes his eyes. It will be easier to play along if he isn't looking at the "floating" book.

"It's true. I do in fact love the written word. Nothing is more inspiring. Nothing more exciting. From the mystery of Doyle to the wonder of Tolkien to the awe inspiring imagination of Bradbury the written word is my one great love. I owe more to your family than anything else in my life. In a lot of ways I am closer to books than human beings. They never judge me or make fun of me. I give your family the same respect they give me."

Clark gulps and opens his eyes again. He hopes that he said the right thing. He thinks about all the things he hasn't accomplished in his life and really hopes that he isn't experiencing his last moments.

However, if he has to die being surrounded by books wouldn't be a bad way to go.

Of course dying while making love to a brilliant and beautiful woman would be a far better way to go. However, Clark knew his luck and knew his social limitations all too well. The first option seemed a lot more likely.

There is a lengthy pause as Tome considers Clark's answer. At last, though, a soft rustle of pages heralds the fact that he's come to some sort of conclusion.

"Very well. I suppose, under the circumstances, I'd be willing to part with Issue #29," he states.

"And the first edition of The Sign of the Four," reminds Belinda staunchily.

"Yes, yes, that as well," gruffs Tome with more rustling. "Miss Mills, your faith is well-placed." And, again, the scrutinizing once-over of Clark. "Hm. Poor boy's first night in the Underground, hm?"

"I'm afraid so. He was a good choice, thought I expect he'll be angry with me for some time." Bel's smile is faintly rueful.

"Can't be helped, girl. Can't be helped. If you folk had a choice in the matter, the Mad World would be empty." A pause. "Well, then. They're on the counter." Tome's voice is tight; it truly is as though he's watching a child leave home.

Bel nods and moves to take up the comic book and the first edition. The latter she tenders over to Clark. "For services rendered, and by way of meager apology for changing your life forever. Let's not take up any more of this good book's time."

"Good evening, Miss Mills...Mr. Gordon," Tome says, and turns to hover back toward the far shelves. Belinda waves a delicate hand and opens the door of the shop, slipping back outside and waiting for Clark to follow.

Clark clutches the first edition to his chest. He watches Tome float back towards the back of the store. Clark is still scared and confused. However, both the comic book and Doyle seem very real. He weakly responds to Tome as he floats away.

"Ummm...thank you. Thank you, Mr. Tome."

Clark then follows Bel out of the shop. Clark opens The Sign of the Four and looks at a few pages. He then closes his eyes and opens them again. Yep, the book is still in his hands. Bel is still there. He assumes Tome is still hiding somewhere in the shop. Clark then turns to Bel and opens his mouth. No words come out. He does it a few more times before words finally make the journey from Clark's mind to his tongue.

"Ms. Mi...Bel....to say I'm confused is...well, a major understatement. What...what just happened? Did I...did I...did I really just talk to a talking book?"

Clark feels like he wants to cry. What he just saw was impossible or a very scary trick. Either way rolling up into a ball and sucking his thumb sounds fantastic.

However, the detectives in his stories don't have such utterly Clark like behavior. They might break down at home while away from Dames and the world, but their inner struggles are almost always left off the page. Each is the dashing hero ready for anything. Clark wished he could borrow their confidence for just a minute or two. Clark was lost. He didn't feel as scared as before, but so many questions were ready to go on the attack and as general for the information onslaught Clark didn't have the slightest idea how to create the battle plan.

What the heck is the Underground?

Bel smiles, the expression tinged a little with sadness, but more dominated by hope. "Mr. Gordon, you deserve a thorough explanation. I am more than happy to give it to you, but you'll have to afford me a little patience. We're gathering a group of people who, like you, have been dragged into this bizareness. It's easier to explain to everyone at once. Please come to this address on Saturday, January 3rd at 8:00 PM. Everything will be explained then. Until that time, I trust you'll keep mum about what's gone on here tonight." She seems to not find this next part pleasant. "I don't have to tell you that, should you start babbling about living books, it will cause a great deal of trouble for you. Enjoy the Doyle book, try not to think about this too much until the 3rd and I'll be in contact now and again to check up on you."

She glances at her watch, an expensive timepiece with a plantinum band. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have serveral more errands to run before the evening's over. Good night, Mr. Gordon, and thank you for all your help." Her slim hand extends toward his.

Clark nods a lot and shakes Bel's hand when she offers it. Clark is in a daze. So many questions. He blurts out a question as he continues to shake her hand without quite realizing what he is doing.

"Should I bring anything?"

Clark looks embarrassed and stops shaking Bel's hand.

"I mean...do I need to prepare anything...or bring anything...to...the...umm...meeting?"

Clark's right hand goes into his hair again. He pulls on it and tries to regain some of his composure. He fails.

"I'm just so confused, Ms. Mills. I know what my eyes and ears just experienced but none of it makes any sense. Is everything really going to be explained? I mean...it just doesn't make sense..."

Clark feels both excited and scared. The world might be a lot closer to his stories than he could have ever imagined. The idea is absolutely thrilling.

On the other hand, the idea of Tome scares the hell out of Clark. How can an inanimate object be alive? How did he just have a conversation with a book? What would have happened if Tome didn't approve of Clark? If Tome exists what other kinds of things might exist?

"I understand that you're confused," Belinda says sympathetically. "I promise you that I was too, once. It's like someone showing you a huge pile of lumber and telling you to build a house. Belive me, I do understand. However, it would take far too long to explain everything here. Just come to that address. The good thing about this is that you won't be alone. You'll have others just as perplexed as you there."

She smiles. "You don't need to bring anything. Well, maybe a bottle of wine if you're feeling expecially gracious or polite, but otherwise...just make sure you come alone."

An incline of her head and she takes a step backward. "Thank you again. Have a good evening, Mr. Gordon."

And she turns and walks back toward her car - a rather sleek-looking Lexus.