Free Jasper Fforde_Thursday Next_05 by First Among Sequels Page A

themselves to any unshielded prose. Given the target, it has the potential for untold damage. A well-placed dirty bomb could scatter poorly described fornication all across drab theological debate or drop a wholly unwarranted scene of a sexually exploitative nature right into the middle of Mrs. Dalloway
    .”
    Even Thursday5 could see this was not a good thing. “Would he do that?”
    “He just might. Senator Muffler is as mad as a barrel of skunks, and the inclusion of Racy Novel in the Council of Genres’ definition of the ‘Axis of Unreadable’ along with Misery Memoirs and Pseudointellectual Drivel didn’t help matters a bit. It’ll be all over the BookWorld by nightfall, mark my words—the papers love this kind of combative, saber-rattling crap.”
    “Ms. Next!” came an annoying, high-pitched voice. I turned to find a small weasel of a man with pinched features, dressed in robes and with a goodly retinue of self-important assistants stacked up behind him.
    “Good morning, Senator,” I said, bowing as protocol demanded. “May I introduce my apprentice, Thursday5? Thursday5, this is Senator Jobsworth, director-general of the CofG and head of the Pan-Genre Treaty Organization.”
    “Sklub,” gulped Thursday5, trying to curtsy, bob and bow all at the same time. The senator nodded in her direction, then dismissed everyone before beckoning me to join him at the large picture window.
    “Ms. Next,” he said in a quiet voice, “how are things down at Jurisfiction?”
    “Underfunded as usual,” I replied, well used to Jobsworth’s manipulative ways.
    “It needn’t be so,” he replied. “If I can count on your support for policy direction in the near future, I am sure we can rectify the situation.”
    “You are too kind,” I replied, “but I will judge my decisions on what is best for the BookWorld as a whole, rather than the department I work in.”
    His eyes flashed angrily. Despite his being the head of the council, policy decisions still had to be made by consensus—and it annoyed the hell out of him.
    “With Outlander ReadRates almost in free fall,” continued Jobsworth with a snarl, “I’d have thought you’d be willing to compromise on those precious scruples of yours.”
    “I don’t compromise,” I told him resolutely, repeating, “I base my decisions on what is best for the BookWorld.”
    “Well,” said Jobsworth with an insincere smile, “let’s hope you don’t regret any of your decisions. Good day.”
    And he swept off with his entourage at his heels. His threats didn’t frighten me; he’d been making them—and I’d been ignoring them—for almost as long as we’d known each other.
    “I didn’t realize you were so close to Senator Jobsworth,” said Thursday5 as soon as she had rejoined me.
    “I have a seat at the upper-level policy-directive meetings as the official LBOCS. Since I’m an Outlander, I have powers of abstract and long-term thought that most fictioneers can only dream about. The thing is, I don’t generally toe the line, and Jobsworth doesn’t like that.”
    “Can I ask a question?” asked Thursday5 as we took the elevator back down into the heart of the Great Library.
    “Of course.”
    “I’m a little confused over how the whole imaginotransference technology works. I mean, how do books here get to be read out there ?”
    I sighed. Cadets were supposed to come to me for assessment when they already knew the basics. This one was as green as Brighton Rock . The elevator stopped on the third floor, and I pulled open the gates. We stepped out into one of the Great Library’s endless corridors, and I waved a hand in the direction of the bookshelves.
    “Okay: imaginotransference. Did any of your tutors tell you even vaguely how the reader-writer thing actually works ?”
    “I think I might have been having a colonic that morning.”
    I moved closer to the shelves and beckoned her to follow. As I came to within a yard of the books, I could feel their