Arcadio adjusted his trench coat and stepped into the damp alley behind the abandoned synthetic-yeast factory. He tapped the rusted steel door three times, paused, then tapped twice more. A slide panel screeched open, revealing a pair of suspicious eyes through a narrow slit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018The twenty-word passcode?\u2019 a raspy voice whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Let me concentrate for a second,\u2019 Arcadio said, sweat beading on his forehead. \u2018Last week you had six words.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018That was last week, sir,\u2019 the muffled voice replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Arcadio closed his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u2018One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, …\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Continue, please.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u2018… he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
There was a long silence. Then the lock clicked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The heavy door groaned open. Arcadio slipped inside and was instantly intoxicated by the glorious, forbidden aroma of aged paper, damp cardboard and faint leather. He breathed deeply. The scent of pure, uncut cellulose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u00a4<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the year 2126, under the strict rule of the Anti-Literacy Junta and universal marital law, spousal surveillance was legally mandated to eliminate independent thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Reading was the ultimate contraband.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Citizens were permitted only video feeds, unedited reality broadcasts and government-approved emoticons. Yet, in this subterranean cellar at 221A Baker Street, a dozen brave addicts sat in a circle on folding chairs, huddled around a single lit lantern.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For their own protection, the members adopted codenames taken from characters in novels by Nobel Prize-winning authors. That way, even if an informer had infiltrated the group, no real identities could be revealed. A***** was Arcadio, S***** answered to Sethe and their leader, S****, went by Santiago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u00a4<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Arcadio took an empty seat beside Sethe, a retired geography lecturer who was nervously twitching. Santiago, the meeting leader, cleared his throat and stood up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Welcome, everyone, to our meeting tonight. Let us begin by admitting our powerlessness over the printed word.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Hello, Santiago,\u2019 the room chanted in hushed unison.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I\u2019ll start,\u2019 the leader said, pulling a crumpled paper napkin from his pocket. \u2018It\u2019s been four days since my last relapse. But last night, while my wife was asleep, I… I succumbed. I sneaked into the bathroom, turned on the glow-lamp and read the back of a shampoo bottle.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A collective gasp echoed through the cellar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Sodium Lauryl Sulphate,\u2019 he continued, tears glistening in his eyes. \u2018Active ingredients, warnings, directions for application… I couldn\u2019t stop. I read the Polish version too.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Stay strong, brother,\u2019 Arcadio muttered, patting Santiago\u2019s shoulder while trying to ignore his own withdrawal tremors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sethe raised a trembling hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I did something worse. I found an old IKEA instruction manual behind the radiator. No text, just diagrams… but I spent twenty minutes assembling a bookcase in my mind.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Forgive yourself, Sethe,\u2019 Santiago said gently. \u2018Visualisation is a slippery slope.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Suddenly, Arcadio\u2019s knee twitched, causing his heavy coat to flare open. A dense, rectangular lump slipped from his inner pocket and hit the concrete floor with a thud that sounded like a thunderclap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The room went dead silent. Everyone stared at the floor. It was a pre-collapse paperback. The glossy cover showed a sweeping Scottish landscape, a dashing lord and an inappropriately passionate embrace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Is that…\u2019 Sethe whispered, her eyes wide with unholy lust. \u2018…a chapter book?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I can explain!\u2019 Arcadio stammered, scrambling to cover it. \u2018I found it buried in a skip! I was just keeping it safe!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Read it!\u2019 a man from the back hissed. \u2018Just one sentence! Just a noun and a transitive verb, mate!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018No, we can\u2019t!\u2019 Santiago yelled, though his eyes were glued to the cracked spine. \u2018If the Marital Enforcement Unit finds us with adjective-heavy fiction, we\u2019ll be sentenced to forty years of forced reality-television watching!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Please, Arcadio,\u2019 Sethe begged, sliding her chair closer. \u2018Give us a taste. A bit of rising action. Maybe a minor plot twist.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Arcadio looked at the desperate faces around him. He felt the familiar, dangerous pull of a well-placed semi-colon. With trembling fingers, he picked up the book, turned to page forty-two and began to whisper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u2018Lady Penelope gazed out across the misty moors, her heart pounding like a runaway locomotive…\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
The room shivered in ecstasy. Someone let out a ragged sigh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u2018He is a scoundrel,\u2019 she thought, \u2018yet his dark eyes hold a secret I am desperate to decipher.\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Oh, that\u2019s the good stuff,\u2019 some other addict groaned, slumping back in his chair. \u2018Direct speech and internal monologue. Brilliant.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Before Arcadio could reach the next paragraph, a heavy boot kicked the alley door off its hinges. Red emergency lights bathed the cellar as two officers from the Marital Enforcement Unit charged inside, brandishing high-powered torchlights and digital dampening rods.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Freeze!\u2019 the lead officer bellowed. \u2018This is an illegal gathering of unauthorised bibliophiles! Drop the prose and put your hands behind your heads!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018It\u2019s not mine!\u2019 Santiago shrieked immediately. \u2018I was just here for the free tea!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The second officer stepped forward, picking up the fallen romance novel with a pair of long metal tongs. He squinted at the page Arcadio had been reading, silently scanning the text. His posture stiffened. His jaw softened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Wait,\u2019 the second officer murmured, his eyes scanning down to the next paragraph. \u2018Does… does Lord Reginald actually return her affection in chapter five?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The lead officer glared at his partner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Officer Higgins! Step away from the narrative!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Look, sir,\u2019 Higgins said, pointing with a trembling finger. \u2018The character arc is surprisingly robust. There\u2019s a subplot involving a missing land deed.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The lead officer snapped the tongs out of Higgins\u2019 hands, looking at the page himself. Seconds ticked by in total silence. The tension in the cellar reached a fever pitch as the chief enforcement officer slowly lowered his baton, took a deep breath and pulled up an empty folding chair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Alright,\u2019 the officer sighed, adjusting his helmet. \u2018Start from chapter one. But if anyone tells my wife I was listening to a third-person limited narrator, I\u2019ll arrest the lot of you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
For their own protection, the members adopted codenames taken from characters in novels by Nobel Prize-winning authors. That way, even if an informer had infiltrated the group, no real identities could be revealed. A***** was Arcadio, S***** answered to Sethe and their leader, S****, went by Santiago.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":4286,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[64,113,13],"tags":[112,232,386],"class_list":["post-4285","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-experimental-prose","category-futurism","category-trails","tag-112","tag-books","tag-illegal-reading"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4285","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4285"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4285\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4287,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4285\/revisions\/4287"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4286"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4285"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4285"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4285"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}