“I’m not sure exactly what I’m supposed to be doing here.”
The book shrugged. “I don’t know either. You just precede me.”
“But if know what you’re about, then shouldn’t that tell me what I’m about?”
The book shrugged again. “I haven’t been able to open myself because you’re on one side of me, and Part 3 is on the other side. Part 3 would open up, but there’s that nasty book-end on the other side.”
“Well, can you see my cover?”
“Sadly, no. I cannot even see my own.”
Part 1 looked to the left. There was a brass rabbit holding him up; on the other side, a steep drop off. To the top of him, another shelf sat, no doubt filled with countless volumes that were inquiring about their purposes, since whoever placed them there did not seem to have a penchant for reading.
“Why are we here? I have these nasty particles on the top of my head that itch but I can’t reach them.”
“We don’t have arms. According to Dictionary –“
“Who is Dictionary?”
“The sage, three shelves down. It’s really the only book he ever takes.”
“Does Dictionary know what Dictionary is about?”
“Oh, yes. He brings Dictionary out whenever he needs to find a word. Dictionary is a volume dedicated to the meaning of words. And according to Dictionary, the scratchy pieces on the top of your head are dust.”
“What does Dictionary define dust as, anyway?”
“Small particles of skin and dirt that collect on inanimate objects. I’m paraphrasing now; Dictionary has been taken out of the room.”
“So you’ve asked Dictionary what dust is before?”
“Of course! I have those itchy, nasty pieces on my head too!”
Part 1 looked over at Part 2, but could not see his face or his spine. “How I wish to be a hammer.”
“What a silly wish,” Part 2 said, scooting closer to Part 3. “Then your face would be hit about a board all day and you could complain. I know Hammer does.”
“But at least I would be used!”
“This is true.”
Part 1, 2 and 3 sat, staring at the door for a few seconds, the silent requiem taken in but offering little solace. Silent requiems were a pastime for these Parts, all intrinsic and special meaning removed after the fourth.
The door to the room swung open slowly as he moved forward, placing a bag on the table. Part 1 clammed up and watched him remove a thick book from the brown bag, crumpling the paper and tossing it aside. One shelf down, he slid the thick book into place. He moved away, closing the door quietly behind him.
“Well, look at this!” Part 2 yelled. “Who are you?”
The volume down below looked up at the shelf.
“I’ll only answer if you tell me who you are!”
“I’m Part 2!”
“Part 2 of what?”
“I’m not quite sure. Part 2 of 3, perhaps?”
Part 2 could hear the volume down below sigh. “I’m Thesaurus.”
“What a pleasure to have company here,” Part 1 offered.
“Company, a guest, a visitor, yes yes…”
“Do you know what you’re supposed to be doing?”
“Doing? No. Acting, performing… No, no.”
“That’s very sad. We don’t know what we’re supposed to be doing either.”
Thesaurus shifted as best he could on the shelf. There was a wide space next to him where Dictionary belonged. Thesaurus flexed his spine, letting his covers open a little. “That feels good, wonderful, amazing, and all kinds of words of similar meaning.”
But the feeling was short lived. The door swung open again, and he stepped inside with another small bag. He removed another large book, crumpling the bag and tossing it asunder before slamming the book into place next to Thesaurus.
Part 2 gasped. It was similar to Dictionary, but somehow different. The skin was shinier, no doubt, and some of the lettering on the front had changed, but only very slightly. It was enough to chill Part 2 down to the core, and for the first time since he was pulled from the row of his twins, he was afraid.
The door to the room shut once again.
“And who might you be?” Part 2 called down.
“I’m Dictionary!”
Part 2 felt anger build up inside. “Liar! You’re not Dictionary!”
“Why, yes I am. I saw my cover in a mirror and I know what I mean, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m afraid I do. Where is Old Dictionary, then?”
“He, after he bought me, was mumbling something in the car about Old Dick falling apart.”
Part 1 looked for a place to empty the contents of his stomach violently, but could find none. No, he was forced to choke the bile back down into his inner pages where it sat.
“Dictionary was falling apart?”
“Oh, yes. Terribly so. He just needed an updated edition, that was all.”
“My, oh my!”
There was another silent requiem. Being the first for New Dick, it was pleasant and a surprise. Thesaurus found the moment to be quite quiet, still, calm, and tranquil.
“But wait,” Part 2 started. “You’re new! So is Part 1! This is all very puzzling, yes.”
“But why is it puzzling?” Part 1 asked.
“Because he keeps buying new Part 1’s and never takes out Part 2! You’re the third Part 1 he’s had in a few months!”
“I do wish you hadn’t told me that, Part 2. That is very terrifying. What if he likes to set fire to Part 1s?”
“Then I would hate to be in your sleeve,” Part 2 said, turning.
Part 3, awoken from the peaceful inner slumber it had been experiencing, began to speak. “Of course he doesn’t burn you. He looks to you for inspiration! I hear the greatest thing in the world is the feeling when you’re pried apart and the words from your soul are taken into the eyes. Isn’t it a shame that not all of us have that to look forward to? You should be counting your chapters, Part 1!”
Part 1 frowned. It could be true. If it was, he did have much to look forward to.
In the other room, he sat in front of his word processor, in a rut. In the bookshelf sat all the technical books that were needed, but this was a special situation. Faced with a blockade, there was only one solution.
“Today, I am going to steady my nerve and finish reading those books!”
He stood and walked over to the shelf. Part 2 had heard those words many times before, but there was another draw. In another room of the house sat a very loud, very noisy box that appeared (according to Old Dictionary) to have some kind of multiple personality disorder. That was much more of a powerful force over him, and soon after picking up Part 1, he would abandon the book on a table in lieu of the obnoxious schizophrenic.
But such was their life, such was their lot. Who were they to complain? They were simply books that knew not their purpose or their content, and thusly, could be no better themselves than any other object that sat in the house gathering small bits of dust and skin particles. Part 2 suspected that it was his lot to be a support for these small pieces of dirt, much as the shelve held him.
It had been a while since the Shelve had actually spoken. When Part 1 was taken from the case, Part 2 began to wonder if Shelve had died, or just realized the blatant futility of asking.
Part 2, closing, relaxing, falling into a haze, suspected “futility.”
The book shrugged. “I don’t know either. You just precede me.”
“But if know what you’re about, then shouldn’t that tell me what I’m about?”
The book shrugged again. “I haven’t been able to open myself because you’re on one side of me, and Part 3 is on the other side. Part 3 would open up, but there’s that nasty book-end on the other side.”
“Well, can you see my cover?”
“Sadly, no. I cannot even see my own.”
Part 1 looked to the left. There was a brass rabbit holding him up; on the other side, a steep drop off. To the top of him, another shelf sat, no doubt filled with countless volumes that were inquiring about their purposes, since whoever placed them there did not seem to have a penchant for reading.
“Why are we here? I have these nasty particles on the top of my head that itch but I can’t reach them.”
“We don’t have arms. According to Dictionary –“
“Who is Dictionary?”
“The sage, three shelves down. It’s really the only book he ever takes.”
“Does Dictionary know what Dictionary is about?”
“Oh, yes. He brings Dictionary out whenever he needs to find a word. Dictionary is a volume dedicated to the meaning of words. And according to Dictionary, the scratchy pieces on the top of your head are dust.”
“What does Dictionary define dust as, anyway?”
“Small particles of skin and dirt that collect on inanimate objects. I’m paraphrasing now; Dictionary has been taken out of the room.”
“So you’ve asked Dictionary what dust is before?”
“Of course! I have those itchy, nasty pieces on my head too!”
Part 1 looked over at Part 2, but could not see his face or his spine. “How I wish to be a hammer.”
“What a silly wish,” Part 2 said, scooting closer to Part 3. “Then your face would be hit about a board all day and you could complain. I know Hammer does.”
“But at least I would be used!”
“This is true.”
Part 1, 2 and 3 sat, staring at the door for a few seconds, the silent requiem taken in but offering little solace. Silent requiems were a pastime for these Parts, all intrinsic and special meaning removed after the fourth.
The door to the room swung open slowly as he moved forward, placing a bag on the table. Part 1 clammed up and watched him remove a thick book from the brown bag, crumpling the paper and tossing it aside. One shelf down, he slid the thick book into place. He moved away, closing the door quietly behind him.
“Well, look at this!” Part 2 yelled. “Who are you?”
The volume down below looked up at the shelf.
“I’ll only answer if you tell me who you are!”
“I’m Part 2!”
“Part 2 of what?”
“I’m not quite sure. Part 2 of 3, perhaps?”
Part 2 could hear the volume down below sigh. “I’m Thesaurus.”
“What a pleasure to have company here,” Part 1 offered.
“Company, a guest, a visitor, yes yes…”
“Do you know what you’re supposed to be doing?”
“Doing? No. Acting, performing… No, no.”
“That’s very sad. We don’t know what we’re supposed to be doing either.”
Thesaurus shifted as best he could on the shelf. There was a wide space next to him where Dictionary belonged. Thesaurus flexed his spine, letting his covers open a little. “That feels good, wonderful, amazing, and all kinds of words of similar meaning.”
But the feeling was short lived. The door swung open again, and he stepped inside with another small bag. He removed another large book, crumpling the bag and tossing it asunder before slamming the book into place next to Thesaurus.
Part 2 gasped. It was similar to Dictionary, but somehow different. The skin was shinier, no doubt, and some of the lettering on the front had changed, but only very slightly. It was enough to chill Part 2 down to the core, and for the first time since he was pulled from the row of his twins, he was afraid.
The door to the room shut once again.
“And who might you be?” Part 2 called down.
“I’m Dictionary!”
Part 2 felt anger build up inside. “Liar! You’re not Dictionary!”
“Why, yes I am. I saw my cover in a mirror and I know what I mean, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m afraid I do. Where is Old Dictionary, then?”
“He, after he bought me, was mumbling something in the car about Old Dick falling apart.”
Part 1 looked for a place to empty the contents of his stomach violently, but could find none. No, he was forced to choke the bile back down into his inner pages where it sat.
“Dictionary was falling apart?”
“Oh, yes. Terribly so. He just needed an updated edition, that was all.”
“My, oh my!”
There was another silent requiem. Being the first for New Dick, it was pleasant and a surprise. Thesaurus found the moment to be quite quiet, still, calm, and tranquil.
“But wait,” Part 2 started. “You’re new! So is Part 1! This is all very puzzling, yes.”
“But why is it puzzling?” Part 1 asked.
“Because he keeps buying new Part 1’s and never takes out Part 2! You’re the third Part 1 he’s had in a few months!”
“I do wish you hadn’t told me that, Part 2. That is very terrifying. What if he likes to set fire to Part 1s?”
“Then I would hate to be in your sleeve,” Part 2 said, turning.
Part 3, awoken from the peaceful inner slumber it had been experiencing, began to speak. “Of course he doesn’t burn you. He looks to you for inspiration! I hear the greatest thing in the world is the feeling when you’re pried apart and the words from your soul are taken into the eyes. Isn’t it a shame that not all of us have that to look forward to? You should be counting your chapters, Part 1!”
Part 1 frowned. It could be true. If it was, he did have much to look forward to.
In the other room, he sat in front of his word processor, in a rut. In the bookshelf sat all the technical books that were needed, but this was a special situation. Faced with a blockade, there was only one solution.
“Today, I am going to steady my nerve and finish reading those books!”
He stood and walked over to the shelf. Part 2 had heard those words many times before, but there was another draw. In another room of the house sat a very loud, very noisy box that appeared (according to Old Dictionary) to have some kind of multiple personality disorder. That was much more of a powerful force over him, and soon after picking up Part 1, he would abandon the book on a table in lieu of the obnoxious schizophrenic.
But such was their life, such was their lot. Who were they to complain? They were simply books that knew not their purpose or their content, and thusly, could be no better themselves than any other object that sat in the house gathering small bits of dust and skin particles. Part 2 suspected that it was his lot to be a support for these small pieces of dirt, much as the shelve held him.
It had been a while since the Shelve had actually spoken. When Part 1 was taken from the case, Part 2 began to wonder if Shelve had died, or just realized the blatant futility of asking.
Part 2, closing, relaxing, falling into a haze, suspected “futility.”
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