The Fake Hunt, Part 19

Wilson Paperclip put down the latest results. His little office was so quiet, the ticking of his wristwatch was clearly audible. He breathed deeply through his nose.

The Head Publisher might not like this. But then again, he just might. Paperclip didn’t like not being sure.

“Best let it sit for a while,” he said to himself, and pushed the sheaf of papers into his desk drawer. “Yes, let it sit. Wait and see what happens next. If it’s good, then we can let the big man know about it. Until then, do we have some … ah, yes. Here they are.”

He pulled a set of drafts from another drawer. The Un-Illustrated Guide to the World of Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time – another novel-length glossary that they had been planning on putting out in giant hardcover if the sales of Winter’s Heart didn’t help the Head Publisher with his yacht problems. This would see Paperclip through at least three board meetings, and by that stage, he would know for sure whether or not his boss would like the story. He just had to get rid of that one last, nagging element of plot-cohesion…

Paperclip, perhaps the real world’s most evil little man, smiled and began typing out an e-mail.

“Dear Satsujinki,” he murmured as he wrote. “Congratulations! You have been accepted…”



And men cried out to the Creator, saying, O Light of the Heavens, Light of the World, let the Promised One be born of the mountain, according to the Prophesies, as he was born in Ages past and will be in Ages to come. Let the Prince of the Morning sing to the land that green things will grow and the valleys give forth lambs. Let the arm of the Lord of the Dawn shelter us from the Dark, and the great sword of justice defend us. Let the Dragon ride again on the winds of time.

The End

of the Second Book of

The Steal of Time

About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy.
This entry was posted in Kussa mun hopoti?, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s