The Great Game 🎲 Kollarum
The Librarian’s Tale
Distracted to pieces by the beauty of Dactalla, the host turned to the two Lactari guests and asked if either of them had a story to share.
Being a librarian, Qualini wondered what type of fiction they would like to hear. There were approximately 7,000 basic types. She was also excruciatingly shy. She was more comfortable transmitting yottabytes of data to customers than to saying a single word that hadn’t already been scripted. She could collate thousands of stories, mix them, sort them, rework them in a million ways, yet when it came to making a story of her own she was at a loss.
Zadar on the other hand had approximately 7,000 different stories to tell. Almost every story, however, was a variant of some story that had already been written somewhere in the Kraslika. In absolute cosmic terms, there was therefore no difference whatsoever between the remixings of Qualini and the original creations of Zadar.
Zadar and Qualini looked enquiringly at the host.
“Whatever type of story you like. It can be a real-life experience, a mix of reality and fiction, or completely fictional.”
The host steadied himself against the table. Dactalla was running some sort of electricity through her claws and into his brain. It was like she was discovering what was there, either to make love to it or tear it to pieces, he couldn’t say which. He reminded himself that if he wanted safety, he could go to a hotel bar and pretend to live in the fast lane.
Zadar plugged a tentacle into what looked like Qualini’s left ear, and suggested to her that she merely tell the story of her life. “Pretend that we’re just sitting in the hotel room, and that the Swarm is sleeping quietly in a corner. Imagine that it’s just the two of us. Or, if you prefer, I’ll go first.”
Qualini wanted to break out of her shell. She wanted to tell Zadar, in the most complex and meaningful terms possible, how thankful she was that he took her under his wing. “Thanks, Zadi, but I’ll give it a try.”
“There was once a shy girl from the planet of Lactar27, where the mist danced and the moons swayed over the langar trees.” Qualini thought this was an appropriate way to start a story, without confusing her readers by in media res surprises, long drawn-out comments on the nature of narrative, or overlapping narratives about aliens sitting in cafes about to disclose extrasensory perceptions that readers wouldn’t understand till much later. So she kept it simple.
“This girl lived with her parents. Her mother was an old sorceress who ruled the roost with insults and slaps in the face. Her father was an old warlock who could no longer control his wife, so he registered his emotion through sullen looks of disappointment whenever his daughter dared to speak.”
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Table of Contents - Chart of Contents - Characters - Glossary - Maps - Story Lines