by Becket
The only problem was that it was also completely closed and locked up as tight as a drum. It had been this way for years—for about as long as Meredith could remember.
She had faint memories of it being open, like the way she faintly remembered her mom and dad. She could just barely recall grand bookcases, impressive librarians, and countless rows of books after books after more and more books. She wished she could remember more.
From the outside, the Magic Library did not look very large, even though it was the largest and greatest library in the whole world. It had tall black gates covered in iron bats. They opened onto a long walkway that led to two tall double doors. Beside the doors were dark windows. In fact, the entire building looked like a spooky old castle.
Ever since it was locked and closed, the townsfolk had been moving away to have better views of the town, because no one wanted to look at a locked library. It was like looking at delicious chocolate that you were forbidden to eat. For many townsfolk, the sight of the Magic Library all locked up was pure torture. So in the end, they decided to move away to more attractive neighborhoods.
Meredith’s three friends lived on the other side of the street with her, Peter Butterpig in a smaller box on one side, and the two old robots in tin trash cans on the other side. Despite their poor living conditions, they had a front row view of this most magical of magic buildings. And it was all theirs to behold.
On some nights they would close their eyes and imagine how there must be a whole mountain range of magic dust inside, untouched, just sitting there, gathering more and more dust every minute of every starry night.
“If we had but a thimbleful of it,” Uncle Glitch said in his gravelly tone one chilly night, “we’d be as rich as princes!”
“Not quite, my old friend,” Sir Copperpot corrected with a more sophisticated attitude. “If we had a pouch of it a week, we’d be richer than kings.”
The two old robots would go on like this for hours, talking about how good life would be if they had some of the magic dust from inside the library.
And on other nights, when the wind was a little colder and the frost was biting a little harder at the joints, the sight of the Magic Library made those old rickety bots curious about their past. They had the idea that they had once worked as librarians of the Magic Library. But their failing memory banks had lost that data long ago.
Getting old like this made them very sad. Uncle Glitch would weep large tears of oil, full of sorrow and regret, and Sir Copperpot would get very quiet and not talk for a long time.
Whenever that happened, Peter Butterpig would try to cheer them up by flapping his bright butterfly wings, flying loops in the air, making silly piggy faces, and snorting a merry rendition of their favorite song, The Spoon and Scissors Circus.
It was enough to make even the most humorless robot smirk half an inch, and it never failed to eventually bring Uncle Glitch and Sir Copperpot into utter hysterics. They held their mechanical bellies and laughed until their batteries ran out and they powered down and slumped forward with a clunk.
CHAPTER SIX
Uncle Glitch & Sir Copperpot
A few nights before Halloween, on a night when it was so cold that snow had piled over Meredith’s head, she kept warm by bundling up in a jacket several sizes too big for her, a jacket she’d found earlier that day in a rubbish heap for clothes that had lost their magic.
Uncle Glitch and Sir Copperpot had gone out to look for magic dust, yet they came back, trudging through the thick snow, beaming with great news.
“Our memory banks are repairing!” Sir Copperpot shouted merrily.
“We’re starting to remember our past again!” Uncle Glitch rejoiced.
The two old robots had been programmed to run out of mechanical breath if they ran too long. And by the time they returned to their trash cans, they were panting so heavily that Meredith feared they might lose power at any moment.
They stood before her little box shuddering with excitement. It took another minute before their mechanical breathing slowed enough to speak, and when it finally did, Sir Copperpot’s eyes were glowing brightly.
“Tonight,” he began, “we met two young girls—”
“They were about your age,” interrupted Uncle Glitch.
Sir Copperpot’s circuits clicked crossly. “I was just about to say that,” he complained to the other old robot.
“Go on, old fellow. Go on,” Uncle Glitch said, giving him a little nudge. “I won’t interrupt again. Promise.”
“As I was saying,” Sir Copperpot resumed, “one girl was a vampire and the other girl was a goblin and—”
“And we had never seen them before,” Uncle Glitch interrupted again, forgetting his promise in his eagerness. “The vampire girl was named Key and the goblin girl was actually a queen named Good.”
“They were visiting our town to look for a friend of theirs who had disappeared inside the Magic Library many years ago,” Sir Copperpot said. “They told us their friend was an elderly gentleman, and a ghost.”
“They described him a little and that sparked an old memory in me,” Uncle Glitch explained. “I could just barely recall this ghost they were talking about, but I couldn’t remember much else than that. ‘If my memory banks were not falling apart the way they are,’ I told them, ‘perhaps I could remember more.’”
“I confessed the same to them,” Sir Copperpot admitted. “Yet despite our failing memories, these two young ladies did not turn away from us, the way most others do. Instead, they were so kind that they immediately opened our access panels and repaired our systems, giving us complete updates.”
Uncle Glitch was so excited he seemed to be getting younger by the second. “These two girls told us that because we were so old our systems would need a few days to repair, but by Halloween night, we should be as good as gold, and better.”
“They promised to visit us again when our memories were totally repaired,” Sir Copperpot added, his robotic smile beaming brightly. “Then we’ll tell them all we can remember about their elderly ghost friend.”
In her joy, Meredith leaped out of her box.
“This is the best news I’ve ever heard!”
Peter Butterpig squealed with just as much glee.
The two old robots gazed at each other.
“Should you tell them or should I?” Uncle Glitch asked the other.
“Oh, you do it, old fellow,” Sir Copperpot replied. “You have better memory banks.”
So, in a tone of great triumph, Uncle Glitch announced, “We’re starting to remember that we once worked…”
His voice trailed off, as if he was forgetting all over again.
Peter Butterpig snorted, urging him to go on.
Sir Copperpot swiveled around toward the direction of the Magic Library and whispered in awe, “There…”
“The library?” Meredith enquired. “You worked in there?”
“We are starting to remember that we were once librarians,” Uncle Glitch went on in a tone of great wonderment.
“We can only recall a little of that work,” Sir Copperpot added. “We remember that we used to be top of the line models. No book was ever lost under our watch. And no borrowed book was ever left unreturned. I believe we used to be the best of the best.”
Peter Butterpig grunted.
Meredith agreed with him. “We would love to hear about what the library was like when you worked there.”
“All right,” said Uncle Glitch, “gather around and pay attention. This is really important…”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Old Librarians
Uncle Glitch and Sir Copperpot rarely agreed on anything because their hard drives were full of fragmented memories, so they were always bickering. But tonight they were in full agreement about everything.
“I think we were wonderful librarians,” said Sir Copperpot. “I believe we shelved more than a million books.”
“More than a million million books!” Uncle Glitc
h exclaimed enthusiastically.
“It was indeed quite a bit,” Sir Copperpot concurred with a robotic chuckle. “I also recall that the hardest books to shelve were the ones that were over our heads.”
Peter Butterpig grunted a question.
“Of course they weren’t difficult to understand,” Uncle Glitch answered snappishly.
“They were literally over our heads,” Sir Copperpot explained with much more patience.
“They were as big as buildings!” Uncle Glitch declared. “And I think I remember how it would take a team of us just to open the cover. You had to read it by walking across each page to read each line.”
“I do not believe I ever did that,” Sir Copperpot interrupted. “Too much exercise. If I recall correctly, which I think I do, I read the book from a distance, standing at the other end of the room. From that viewpoint, it looked like an ordinary book in the palm of my hands.”
Meredith had never seen either of these old robots so happy about anything. Their joy was now her joy too. And she hoped they would remember more.
“Are all the books in the Magic Library that large?” she asked them.
“Good heavens, no!” exclaimed Uncle Glitch, the lights of his eyes flashing with fond recollection. “Some books had the normal shape of a rectangle or square. They had the usual subjects of math and history and science. But compared to the others, they were the most boring books you might read.”
“They were not boring,” Sir Copperpot said with a huff. “They were educational. And for some of us, a good education is jolly good fun.”
Uncle Glitch ignored him. “I liked the book houses,” he remarked.
“Were the books as big as houses?” Meredith asked eagerly.
“They were all kinds of shapes and sizes,” Uncle Glitch declared giddily. “Large houses, dog houses, doll houses, mouse houses. Some you would carry in your hand and some you could live in. You would start reading it at the front door. And once you went in, you would read the floors, the walls, and the furniture to move the story along. Each room, and every single thing in each room, told a different part of the story. You could read the end of the book by going back out the front door, or the back door, or through the windows. You could read it over and over again in a different order too, and it would tell you different sides of the same story. To read it straight through you would go in through the front door and out the back. To read it in medias res—that means you begin the story ‘in the middle of action’ the way some books do—you would go in through a window, through the study, through the den, and into the sitting room. Or to read all of its narrative tangents—like when the author tells a smaller story in the larger story (like telling this small story of a book house in the Magic Library)—you would spend time in the living room, the kitchen, and one of the bedrooms.”
Sir Copperpot gave a robotic sigh. “But there were other books for the less adventurous. For instance, there were jigsaw puzzle books. You had to think about how you read them so that you could put the story together piece by piece. A good mystery would keep me up all night.”
“There were also the books shaped like colorful Easter eggs,” said Uncle Glitch. “Those were fun to crack open.”
“There were also the books shaped like a bouquet of flowers,” said Sir Copperpot. “They lasted only a few days before they wilted, so you had to read them quickly.”
The two old robots became more and more excited the more they remembered about working in the Magic Library.
Peter Butterpig grunted another question.
This made the two old robots become very sorrowful. The lights of their eyes dimmed, their faces turned down, and they slouched forward so far that Meredith wondered if they had lost power.
But then Sir Copperpot raised himself back up and with a melancholy voice, he said, “The library closed because it got infected with a WORM.”
Peter Butterpig squealed in fright.
“No, not that kind of worm,” snapped Uncle Glitch. “Not the kind that lives in the ground.
“Not an earthworm,” explained Sir Copperpot. “I believe this WORM was a computer virus that tried to infect the library’s operating system.”
“We robotic librarians had to flee for our lives,” said Uncle Glitch. “Or else we would have gotten infected too.”
Sir Copperpot wiggled. “I fear that there might be a little WORM in me still.”
“What did this WORM do to you?” Meredith asked them.
Uncle Glitch crossed his arms and humphed, “I don’t think I would like to talk about this anymore.”
Sir Copperpot took off his top hat and brushed snow off the rim. He straightened his coat and wiped a smudge of grease from his copper cheeks.
At last he said, “It was the WORM who locked the library. It was his fault that it is now closed. It was his fault that we lost our jobs.”
Peter Butterpig snorted and grunted.
“Because he hates us,” Uncle Glitch answered him. “He hates everything!”
Sir Copperpot gave another long sigh. “That is partly true,” he said softly. “Listen carefully. This is what happened…”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Wormwood Operation’s Rotten Malware
It was getting dark, the snow was falling heavily, and the temperature was dropping quickly.
Uncle Glitch built a small fire for little Meredith Pocket and Peter Butterpig. They all sat around it, warming their hands and watching it flicker.
“If memory serves,” Sir Copperpot began to explain after a few moments of silence, “the Magic Library has an important computer—”
“No, no, it is an important computer,” Uncle Glitch interrupted. But after having second thoughts he added, “At least I think it might be.”
“Nevertheless,” Sir Copperpot resumed, “the virus that infected the library was called the WORM, which, if I recall correctly, stood for Wormwood Operation’s Rotten Malware.”
“I think you’re right,” Uncle Glitch chimed in. “The WORM was called a he. And his infection spread throughout the library’s operating system.”
“The virus infection began with one of the newer robotic librarians,” Sir Copperpot said forlornly. “The young ones were always inviting in new programs. They lacked the firewalls that old age naturally builds up.”
“From that one young bot, the WORM spread, infecting one robot after another, beginning with the young and then moving through the older models.”
“Finally the WORM managed to infect the library’s operating system.”
“What’s that operating system called again?” asked Uncle Glitch. “It’s on the tip of my tin tongue.”
“I can’t recall it either,” said Sir Copperpot, “although I should know it. It was one of the most important operating systems that has ever been.”
“I think it still is,” said Uncle Glitch.
“As I was saying,” continued Sir Copperpot, “the Magic Library’s operating system was very old and very powerful. The WORM could not infect it directly, but it did get into some of the minor programs.”
“He got into the hubs and busses,” Uncle Glitch added. “They were the senders and gateways of all messages.”
“Through the hubs and busses, the WORM sent false messages to the doors, locking them against the operating system’s desire or design.”
“We just barely made it out…” Uncle Glitch started to say, but he got lost in recollection. “Hello,” he said a second later, blinking brightly with a sudden thought. “On our way out of the library, right before the doors locked behind us, I think we were carrying something.”
“Books most likely,” said Sir Copperpot. “What else would we save from the library?”
“You’re probably right,” Uncle Glitch agreed, but there was a tone of reluctance in his voice, as if he did not quite believe it.
Sir Copperpot wiped a stream of oil from his mechanical eye. “I think we have said enough for tonight. Maybe we could continue this
at another time. All these new memories are activating a program that is giving me a heartache. And you know how I get when that happens. Oh, dear me.”
Uncle Glitch leaned a little closer to Meredith and Peter Butterpig.
“Have you noticed how very little there is?” he whispered intensely with wide eyes.
“How very little what?” cried Meredith.
“And have you noticed how very few there are?”
“Very few what?” she repeated.
“Why, books and dust, of course.”
Peter Butterpig snorted doubtfully.
“I mean,” said Uncle Glitch, “ever since the WORM closed the library, magic books and magic dust are scarce. And the scarcer something is, the more valuable it gets.”
It did seem as if there were fewer magic books in the world.
“What about the dust?” Meredith enquired. “Why is there so little of it?”
“Because the WORM tries to keep it all,” Uncle Glitch hissed. “He works hard to hoard it, never letting any of it out.”
“Does he want it for himself?”
“Not a bit of it. In fact he hates it. He just doesn’t want anyone else to have it either.”
Peter Butterpig grunted.
Sir Copperpot answered him by asking, “Have you ever shaken a bottle of soda? The bubbles gather and gather until they are ready to burst. Magic dust is the same. It has been gathering and gathering on the magic books for so long that the Magic Library is bursting in the nooks and crannies to let it out.”
“Much of what we gather from the streets comes from the little bit that somehow gets out of the library,” Uncle Glitch added.
“So why does the WORM dislike magic dust so much?” asked Meredith.
Sir Copperpot stood up and said, “Come on. Let’s have a closer look at the Magic Library.”
CHAPTER NINE
The Little Miracle