********************* Captain's Log, stardate 48637 PM: I have been captured and detained on an alien ship in which everybody seems to think I belong in the library for some reason. I am currently plotting my escape and the completion of my secret mission. ********************* Scene: Library. This is a large room with several tables and even more comfy chairs scattered about. On two walls stand shelves of precious paper books behind locked glass doors (The Head Librarian has the key, and is generous about lending them, but locking is star fleet policy). To the side of the entrance stands a rack of readers and a bin of returned books (to the 20th century eye they would look like disks). Several terminals are in use; one is in the process of dispensing a disk. The Head Librarian and the Music Coordinator are standing at a far table with several sheets of paper in front of them. At a table at the far end, Lite sits in a chair squeezed against the wall, with a book open on the table in front of him. Across the table, his huge bulk blocking any way out, Thokk sloowwwly scans through a copy of 'Elementary Food Machine Operation', looking up every once in a while at his prisoner. Lite very carefully rips a corner off of one of the pages in his book, making as little noise as possible and with his eyes on Thokk the entire time. He balls it up, and puts it in his mouth. Sound Effect: Ptoo! Thokk: (looking up from his book) What was that? Lite: Wasn't me! What, did something happen? Thokk rumbles annoyedly, and goes back to his manual. Lite begins to tear at another corner of his book. At the other side of the room, the Head Librarian Guillaume and Music Coordinator Stoops are arguing about the filing of new music. Bits of the conversation drift over, and Lite pricks up his ears trying to listen to it. Guillaume: This piece by Renee Serendipity goes nicely with his previous works. We can file them under Modern Dissonance: Renee Serendipity: Opus 13. Stoops: Are you out of your mind? This is a complete departure from anything he's done before. Just feel the tonality underlying the discord. It's even got a hummmmmmable tune. (She demonstrates). I think we should file it under Subter-fugue, with a link to his previous works. Guillaume: Do you know how much maintenance needs to be done on those annoying links? Minutes of computer time every single day! Lite, on hearing "Subter-fugue" perks up. He fires another spitball, which sticks to Thokk's face just under his left eye. Thokk: What? What was that? (picks it off his face) Lite: Nothing! Wasn't me! There's something dripping down from the ceiling! Thokk: This looks like an irregularly shaped piece of flat cellulose, which has been crumpled up and dipped in some sort of liquid. (looks suspiciously at Lite, then suddenly shoots a burly arm across the table and clamps a hand around his throat, pulling him out of the chair a few inches) This isn't a spitball, is it? Lite:Thokk: Good. Don't do it again. (Lets go. Lite slides down into his chair and feels his neck carefully) On the other side of the room: Stoops: Look, you asked for my help in classifying these things. If you don't want it, just tell me and I'll take my expertise and information elsewhere. Guillaume: No, no. I do want your help. We'll do the link. It's fine. But what do I do about this bugs stuff? Stoops: Bugs? Guillaume: Apparently these were popular songs 400 years ago, but got lost during the Eugenics wars. The Eugenics leaders thought the songs corrupted youth from self-improvement. Stoops: Oh, Beatles. (she laughs) On "Eugenics wars" Lite carefully resumes his ripping, checking extra carefully before shooting another spitball at the barbarian. Thokk: What! What's going on here! I saw you that time, little shrimp! You really what your head ripped off or not? Lite: Really! I didn't do it! It was somebody else! (looks around, but there isn't even anybody else at their end of the library.) Don't hit me! I won't do it again. Guillaume: Hey! Tho-okk! Quiet in the library! Thokk: Sorry. Won't happen again. Thokk glowers over the kid for about a minute, then slowly sits down staring at Lite for another two minutes. Guillaume: Beatles, Bugs, whatever... this is some kind of old recording, from some vinyl disc recording media which they discovered recently. Something about "the original listening experience" or some fool nonsense, and now we get to file it. It doesn't go under show tunes. It is not at all dissonant. It's not current popular music. I suppose I could file it under historical music, but then I have to specify non-classical. Stoops: Trust me, file it under popular songs, singable. It's good stuff... Thokk finally glances down. Lite's fingers creep towards the pages of the book. He starts to rip. Thokk: (Lunging over the table for Lite in a blind rage) AAAARRRGGGGHHHH! Lite: IIIIEEEE! (Ducks under the table, scrambling out from underneath on the other side. Thokk's legs wave over the edge of the table, but he is now wedged, head first, between it and the wall, and unfortunately it is bolted down.) Guillaume: (looking up) Hey, what's happening over there?! Quiet!...? It's too late. Lite is charging over from the other side of the room, and manages to impact both people with a crash and a flurry of papers. Lite grabs the remaining pages of sheet music from the counter and shoots out the door with a whoop. Guillaume and Stoops slowly get up from under the table. Guillaume: What was that? ********
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