A Million Versions of Right (31 page)

* * * * *

Following the extinction of every bird (and the gibbon), the torch was handed over to science. A significant amount of time was devoted to the book place-holding dilemma. Utilising advancements in nanotechnology, books were soon developed that could remember what point their readers had reached.

The necessary technology required reading matter to form a rudimentary consciousness. Books were soon aware of their own content and behaved accordingly.

Those books deemed ‘classics’ pomped around, demeaning all and sundry with their egotism. It wasn’t uncommon for a book to actively prevent those deemed unworthy from reading its contents. There were books that would refuse to open or snap shut without warning. This led to a fear of literature that saw anxious readers resorting to material of the most unsavoury kind.

It was the fiction that wallowed in pornographic gratuity that benefited the most from the new technology. These unsavoury books – now comprehending their content – were in a state of constant sexual arousal. As a result, wave after wave of readers were molested by their own reading material. Books that dwelt upon the most obscene graphic violence were imbued with a bloodlust that sparked a paper cut epidemic. For a period of eighteen months, all books were avoided. This sent the field of nanotechnology into a downward spiral that permanently destroyed its reputability. It is for this reason that nano-technology’s sole commercial use remains in the field of pornography to this day. 

* * * * *

Penny ambushed Amanda in the rod storeroom. Although her methods were intimidating, her intentions were pure. Amanda tried fiercely to scurry from beneath Penny’s growing loom.

“Please don’t run, I just want to help you.”

The sincerity in Penny’s eyes comforted Amanda immediately. She had never seen such sincerity before and it made her feel safe. Amanda wasn’t the kind of girl that attracted help from her fellow humans. Her slow eyes made eye contact a laborious chore and it gave her an outward appearance of mild retardation. She had been implored to maintain eye contact when involved in conversation so many times that it was pointless keeping count.

Penny knelt down to meet Amanda’s gaze and together their slug paced eyes slowly locked. There was an instant connection between the two that bloomed into a lung-crushing hug. They both fell to the floor, struggling for breath, which was granted via the hug’s abortion.

“You have it too, don’t you?” asked Amanda.

“You know it, sport,” replied Penny.

They fell once more into an eyeball-popping embrace that didn’t end until death had overcome them. Fortunately the power of their connection ensured they were quickly resuscitated by gentle winds of mutual understanding.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” said Amanda, “It’s just so overwhelming to meet someone who understands what I feel.”

Penny smiled warmly, her luscious lips coated in dribble. “You want to read, don’t you?”

Amanda found the question confronting.
How did she possess the nerve to just say it like that?

“It’s ok,” said Penny, “I was like you not so long ago. I’d start reading and tire after an hour or so, only to have read a couple of meagre pages.”

Amanda was interested now. This kindred spirit had clearly overcome a very similar problem.

“So, what did you do?” trembled Amanda.

“The answer turned out to be so simple. I was introduced to it by an acquaintance.”

“What answer?”

Penny flashed a grin and reached inside her collar pocket. A few anxious seconds of fumbling later and she had found it. “I got it!” she beamed. In her hand was a simple slip of card, yet it seemed to radiate with such abundant purpose.

“What is it?” asked a clearly awe-struck Amanda.

Penny grinned knowingly. “Rather than tell you, how about I show you?” She detached a novel that was strapped to the back of her head. It was a thick one, probably over 500 pages. The sheer size filled Amanda with all-encompassing defeat.
What I wouldn’t give to make my way through such a volume
, she thought.

Penny fanned the pages of the novel wildly, “Tell me when to stop.”

Confused by the demonstration, the fanning had to occur several times before Amanda muttered a feeble, “Stop.”

Penny held the novel open at the spread. “Okay, remember this. We’re on page 240 - 241. You got that?”

Amanda nodded.

“No, say it out loud. I need to make sure you remember. What spread are we on?”

“240 - 241,” she repeated.

What happened next was so overwhelming that Amanda feared she would faint. Penny held up the book, with the pages still at 240 - 241 and slid the slip of card inside. With the dramatic flair of an illusionist she snapped it shut.

“NOOOO!” screamed Amanda instinctively.

“What if I were to tell you that thanks to this slip of card, we’ll be able to find our spot in
any
book instantly?”

“I’D SAY YOU WERE A LYING WHORE!” Amanda was clearly a little distressed.

With those harsh words ringing in her ears, Penny flipped open the book at the exact spot where the slip had been placed and held it up to Amanda.

“Would you please read aloud the spread you are currently seeing?”

Amanda moved in close, waiting for her eyes to catch up. When they finally did, she focused on the page numbers. Sure enough, the book was back at 240 - 241. This time she did faint.

* * * * *

A parapsychologist by the name of Herman Friars stumbled upon the next phase in the evolution of the bookmark while conducting a séance in Pasadena. Herman Friars was well-respected in his field and conducted weekly séances in various decrepit locales around town.

One such gathering found Friars attempting to communicate with the soul of one Stephanie Dundergrass. Dundergrass was a Pasadena resident in the late 1800s who had passed over while attempting to maintain her spot in an entertaining romance romp she had been reading. Historical evidence suggests the book was entitled ‘Longing for a Plague-free Johnson’.

Dundergrass grew weary with reading at roughly the half-way point and sought sleep. Not wishing to lose her place, she rigged up a rather elaborate sleeping chair to ensure her upright position was maintained. Her arms were locked into place by a trusted servant and the book attached to her hands with mild adhesive.

As the servant left Dundergrass to her own devices for the night, he quite accidentally toppled a lamp. The adhesive used turned out to be extremely flammable and the flames from the lamp leapt toward her hands, eventually devouring her body, burning her to a crisp. Stephanie Dundergrass’ corpse was discovered the next morning by her father. The burnt-out book was still firmly attached to her blackened hands.

Aware of the fascinating history surrounding Dundergrass, Friars gathered a small group of paranormal enthusiasts to attend the séance. The group held hands and in unison chanted Stephanie’s name. Immediately a disembodied voice wafted through the air exclaiming
I never lost my place. I never lost my place. Give me a tome in which I may read.

Friars reached into a nearby satchel and placed his latest book, ‘On Why I’m Cumming’, onto the table. The book flipped open, controlled spiritually by Dundergrass and immediately slammed shut again.

“
I SHALL NEVER LOSE MY PLACE
,” said the ghostly voice as the book re-opened at the exact same spot.

Participants of the séance sat aghast as the energy left the room. From beyond the grave, Stephanie Dundergrass had achieved what so many had failed to do. News of the occurrence spread internationally. Séances became the standard way to maintain one’s place in a book. Herman Friars benefited financially by teaching the skills involved and it wasn’t long before basic séance techniques were taught in school as essential research tools.

However, the extreme spike in spirit world contact upset the theosophical balance and the world was soon inundated with poltergeist activity and church burnings. Representatives from the major religions formed an emergency committee with a goal of ending the séances. Thanks to some hard work they were ultimately successful and once more, the issue of marking one’s place within a book was relegated insurmountable.    

* * * * *

The shock of Penny’s bookmark demonstration was enough to render Amanda bedridden for upwards of a month. Penny steadfastly sat at Amanda’s bedside, willing her back to health.

“You simply must wake up,” Penny implored. “I believe that within you lurks a voracious reader and, with the aid of a bookmark, your ‘Slow Eye’ will be forgotten.”

Having spent so long at Amanda’s unconscious side, Penny got to know her equally concerned family very well. The source of the ‘Slow Eye’ was revealed.

Amanda’s eyes never used to be an issue. In fact, it was the rest of her body that had made life difficult. As a child Amanda had what was known as ‘Fast Body’. On any given occasion, her body would move as if in fast forward, tiring out anyone bearing witness. This was with the exception of her eyes, which doctors claimed, moved in exact accordance to acceptable protocol. A confusing calibration treatment was initiated, with the eventual aim of matching the speed of Amanda’s body with her perfectly average eyes. Due to poor handwriting, the calibration treatment met with some hurdles. Although successful as far as body speed went, Amanda’s eyes were slowed to a drone. When evidence of the mistake was shown to the doctor responsible, he leapt gracefully from a window and was never heard from again. This was in direct contrast to Penny’s particular strain of ‘Slow Eye’, which was caused by a test screening of ‘The Curious Case of Benjamin Button’.

* * * * *

Amanda’s eyelids rose like a bridge. Penny stood over her, wearing a smile and absolutely nothing else.

“Your labia are really long,” were the first words from Amanda’s mouth.  

 Covering herself up with an embarrassed hand, Penny held the bookmark aloft with the other. The look of awe returned to Amanda immediately, however she was able to stave off another fainting spell.

“You absolutely have to get yourself one, Amanda.”

“But I don’t even know what it’s called, Penny. I don’t even know where to get one.”

“All you need to know is that it’s called a bookmark. I’ll take care of the rest.”

The word
bookmark
repeated itself hypnotically inside Amanda’s head.
How could the answer to life’s most enduring mystery be so simple?
she thought. 

* * * * *

Ironically it was an illiterate man called Doodlewanky Peppercorn who stumbled upon what is today known as the bookmark. Sending his son Mark off to school one morning he had to provide a note of absence for the day prior. His wife Trumpetina had to write the note when his own effort resulted in plagiarism.

Not wanting Mark to forget the note, he slid it into his mathematics textbook. In what will surely go down in history as one of life’s happiest accidents, Doodlewanky slid the note into the book at the exact page his son – and the rest of the class – were currently up to.

That day in maths class the teacher anxiously clutched the textbook to his chest, hoping that somehow he would stumble upon the correct page. All students were instructed to ready their own copies, which is when Mark happened across his note of absence. Flicking through the book to retrieve the note, he was utterly mystified to find it opening to the page his teacher had so desperately wanted. His arms fell to his side as the urge to collapse bit at him.

Meanwhile Mark’s teacher paced the classroom, casting glances at his students all the while. Most avoided eye contact while some simply lost themselves in his crotch. There was one student however who appeared to already have his book open in what the teacher could only decipher as a crazed act of cocksureness.

“What’s that in your book, Mark?” he asked.

Not receiving any reply, the teacher strode over toward the desk.

“I asked you a question, Mark!”