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'Next and Havisham,' he said. 'Something easy to begin with. Bloophole needs closing. It's in Great Expectations, Miss Havisham, so you can go straight home afterwards.'
'What do we do?'
'Page two,' explained the Bellman, consulting his clipboard. 'Abel Magwitch escapes – swims, one assumes – from a prison hulk with a "great iron" on his leg. He'd sink like a stone. No Magwitch, no escape, no career in Australia, no cash to give to Pip, no "expectations", no story. He's got to have the shackles still on him when he reaches the shore so Pip can fetch a file to release him, so you're going to have to footle with the back-story. Any questions?'
'No,' replied Miss Havisham. 'Thursday?'
'Er … no also,' I replied.
'Good,' said the Bellman, signing a docket and tearing it off. 'Take this to Wemmick in Stores.'
He left us and called to Foyle and the Red Queen about a missing person named Cass in Silas Marner.
'Did you understand any of that?' asked Miss Havisham kindly.
'Not much.'
'Good!' Miss Havisham smiled. 'Confused is exactly how all cadets to Jurisfiction should enter their first assignment!'
26
Assignment one: bloophole in Great Expectations
* * *
'Bloophole: Term used to describe a narrative hole by the author that renders his/her work seemingly impossible. An unguarded bloophole may not cause damage for millions of readings but then, quite suddenly and catastrophically, the book may unravel itself in a very dramatic fashion. Hence the Jurisfiction saying: "A switch in a line can save a lot of time".
Textmarker: An emergency device that outwardly resembles a flare pistol. Designed by the Jurisfiction Design & Technology department, the textmarker allows a trapped PRO to "mark" the text of the book they are within using a predesignated code of bold, italics, underlining, etc , unique to the agent. Another agent may then jump in at the right page to effect a rescue. Works well as long as the rescuer is looking for the signal.'
UA OF W CAT – The Jurisfiction Guide to the Great Library (glossary)
Miss Havisham told me to get some tea and meet her back at her table, so I walked across to the refreshments.
'Good evening, Miss Next,' said a well-dressed young man who had joined me. 'Vernham Deane, resident cad of The Squire of High Potternews, D. Farquitt, 1256 pages, softcover £3.99.'
I shook his hand.
'I know what you're thinking.' He smiled. 'No one much likes Daphne Farquitt but she sells a lot of books and she's always been pretty good to me – apart from the chapter where I ravish the serving girl at Potternews Hall and then callously deny it and have her fired. I didn't want to, believe me.'
'I've not read the book,' I told him.
'Ah!' he said with some relief, then added: 'You have a good teacher in Miss Havisham. Solid and dependable, but a stickler for rules. There are many short cuts here that the more mature members either frown upon or have no knowledge of; will you permit me to show you around some time?'
'Thank you, Mr Deane – I accept.'
'Vern,' he said, 'call me Vern. Listen, don't rely too heavily on the ISBN numbers. The Bellman's a bit of a technophile, and although the ISBN Positioning System might seem to have its attractions, I should keep one of Bradshaw's maps with you as a back-up at all times.'
'I'll bear that in mind.'
'And don't worry about old Harris. His bark is a lot worse than his bite. He looks down on me because I'm from a racy pot-boiler, but listen – I can hold my own against him any day!'
He poured some tea for us both before continuing.
'He was trained during the days when cadets were cast into The Pilgrim's Progress and told to make their own way out. He thinks all us young 'uns are soft as soap. Don't you, Tweed?'
Harris Tweed had approached with an empty coffee cup.
'What are you blathering about, Deane?' he asked, scowling like thunder.
