Page 67 of Lost in a Good Book (Thursday Next 2)

'Good morning, Miss Next!' he said in a friendly voice as he proffered his hand. 'Allow me to introduce myself – Akrid Snell.'

I stare

d at him in surprise and he laughed.

'We needed some time to talk and I've never been on one of these before. How does it work?'

'The Gravitube? It's a tunnel running through the centre of the earth. We freefall all the way to Sydney. But … but … how on earth did you find me?'

'Jurisfiction has eyes and ears everywhere, Miss Next.'

'Plain English, Snell – or I could turn out to be the most difficult client you've ever had.'

Snell looked at me with interest for a few moments as a stewardess gave a monotonous safety announcement, culminating with the warning that there were no toilet facilities until gravity returned to 40 per cent.

'You work in SpecOps, don't you?' asked Snell as soon as we were comfortable and all loose possessions had been placed in zippered bags.

I nodded.

'Jurisfiction is the service we run inside novels to maintain the integrity of popular fiction. The printed word might look solid to you, but where I come from movable type has a much deeper meaning.'

'The ending of Jane Eyre,' I murmured, suddenly realising what all the fuss was about. 'I changed it, didn't I?'

'I'm afraid so,' agreed Snell, 'but don't admit that to anyone but me. It was the biggest Fiction Infraction to a major work since someone futzed so badly with Thackeray's Giant Despair we had to delete it completely.'

'Drop is D minus two minutes,' said the announcer. 'Would all passengers please take their seats, check their straps and make sure all infants are secured.'

'So what's happening now?' asked Snell.

'Do you really not know anything about the Gravitube?'

Snell looked around and lowered his voice.

'All of your world is a bit strange to me, Next. I come from a land of trench coats and deep shadows, complex plot lines, frightened witnesses, underground bosses, gangsters' molls, seedy bars and startling six-page-from-the-end dénouements.'

I must have looked confused for he lowered his voice farther and hissed:

'I'm fictional, Miss Next. Co-lead in the Perkins & Snell series of crime books. I expect you've read me?'

'I'm afraid not,' I admitted.

'Limited print run.' Snell sighed. 'But we had a good review in Crime Books Digest. I was described as "a well-rounded and amusing character … with quite a few memorable lines". The Mole placed us on their Read of the Week list but The Toad were less enthusiastic – but listen, who takes any notice of the critics?'

'You're fictional? I said at last.

'Keep it to yourself, though, won't you?' he urged. 'Now, about the Gravitube?'

'Well,' I replied, gathering my thoughts, 'in a few minutes the shuttle will have entered the airlock and depressurisation will commence—'

'Depressurisation? Why?'

'For a frictionless drop. No air resistance – and we are kept from touching the sides by a powerful magnetic field. We then simply freefall the eight thousand miles to Sydney.'

'So all cities have a DeepDrop to every other city, then?'

'Only London and New York connecting to Sydney and Tokyo. If you wanted to get from Buenos Aires to Auckland you'd first take the Overmantle to Miami, then to New York, DeepDrop to Tokyo and finally another Overmantle to Auckland.'

'How fast does it go?' asked Snell, slightly nervously.

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